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Post by Becca on Dec 13, 2009 17:39:30 GMT
A glossy tuxedo cat poked his head out of his den and looked around, blinking sleep from his yellow-and-lime eyes. It was not like Milkstar to be the first one up, and as he hopped out into the humid air he wonders what was that had woken him. It wasn’t the dawn chorus; that sounded every morning and he usually slept right through it. It wasn’t the gentle patter of the shower that had only just passed; no cat of DignityClan would be disturbed by that sound. No, it was something else, something... unusual, that had woken the proud leader, and he didn’t know what it was.
He gave himself a quick bath to remove the dirt that had clung to his pelt over night, then took a small dead snake, from the freshkill pile and began to eat. He felt a little uneasy, for reasons he didn’t understand, but the taste of the soft, pale flesh made him calm down. He reasoned that it was probably just a bad dream that had made him so jumpy, a dream that had faded from his memory the moment he opened his eyes. It wasn’t that unusual, not really.
He finished his breakfast and pushed the many thin, spiky bones aside to be buried later. He didn’t know what to do with himself now. The rest of the clan were sleeping so he had no-one to talk to, and he didn’t want to leave on a hunting trip without telling someone where he was going. He was just going to have wait until someone woke up, however long it took. |
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Post by Veryxes on Dec 14, 2009 22:02:37 GMT
It was unlike the Deputy to sleep in late. In fact, it went right against her very core beliefs. She was always the first to rise and the last to sleep, she was a protector and a soldier. So it was that when she finally awoke and realized the time of day, she leapt to her large paws and to rigid attention. A quick scan of the clan revealed that everything was in order and her leader was already awake, but she berated herself in anger. What if something had happened? She would not have been alert and awake to stop it and do her duty to the clan. She would have shamed her father and dishonoured the family name.
With a soft hiss of self-wrath, the she-cat proceeded to thoroughly clean herself, to the standards of a military inspection. Not one inch of her ample body was left unturned as she finished off, bright amber eyes seeking out the silhoette of her leader. Silently, she stalked to his right side and sat, looking out as he did. "I apologize for my lateness, sir. What punishment shall I be given?" She was used to punishment and felt that it was a neccessary part of life and discipline. Indeed, she felt lost without it.
Turning those bright amber eyes to the leader, she waited patiently for his answer, silver form graceful despite her obviously impressive size. As a Maine Coon cross, she was no small beast, perfectly able to take care of herself. Battle scars were evident on her stocky form and it was obvious from the way she looked at the leader that she was blind in her left eye. Despite her ragged appearance, she had a look in her eye that told of a calm, collected and loyal warrior, a protector and a guardian. |
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Post by Becca on Dec 15, 2009 6:14:32 GMT
Milkstar turned his head to meet his deputy’s gaze, a slight smile on his face, and found himself looking slightly upwards. It hadn’t been long since Ghostwood had come to his clan, and it had been even less time since he had made her deputy, but already he was beginning to pride himself on his choice. Some cats had been unhappy that a cat not born in the clan was being given such a high position, but Milkstar knew her courage, intelligence and leadership skills made her perfect for the job. Still, her disciplined attitude was not one Milkstar shared.
“You’re punishment will be this:” He said, his voice bubbling from a suppressed chuckle, “You’re not allowed to call me ‘Sir’ for the rest of the day.” He smile broke into a wide, happy grin. He knew Ghostwood behaved in the way she did out of respect for him, and he appreciated it, but as a general rule he preferred to treat his subordinates as friends and for them to do the same to him in return.
Growing a little more serious he continued, “Besides, you’re not late; all the other cats are asleep, and so am I, usually, at this time.” He yawned and stretched as if to emphasise his point, then lay down in an untidy yet comfortable sprawl. He knew damp earth would cling to his pelt now, but it would come off later. He waited to see if she would protest at his ‘punishment’ or his reasoning for it. He knew she wouldn’t usually disobey an order, but, Milkstar suddenly realised, to ask her to relax her strange, formal attitude even a little bit was asking a lot. |
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Post by Veryxes on Dec 15, 2009 11:52:11 GMT
Despite her size and strength, years of training had drummed into Ghostwood the fact that size was not everything. She knew that a cat had to be both intelligent and well-disciplined as well. Smaller cats could outrun her and were more agile. But though she struggled each day with a new life, without running into battle at each opportunity, the she-cat couldn't forget her past. Couldn't forget the numerous comrades she had lost, the numerous faces of the cats she had destroyed. They haunted her dreams, and often, each waking moment as well. She'd hoped that this migration to a new clan would dampen these images in her mind, help her to forget them. If it was, then it was going to be a long, long process.
Returning to the present in time to catch Milkstar's words, Ghostwood blinked blankly and was silent for a moment. That was not a punishment that she would have given herself, but the leader's word was law and she was a loyal cat. Regaining her composure, she listened to the rest of his words and watched as he sprawled himself out on the floor. She found his lack of discipline and composure strange, but it didn't worry her as much as she would have thought it would. She was no fool and saw that the dark cat was not a leader for nothing. He could handle himself in any given situation and fight as well as she did. He simply behaved in a way that was foreign to her cultural background.
"If that is what you wish, Milkstar, then so shall it be." The sentence felt odd on her tongue and she struggled not to add sir or captain onto the end. It would be a hard habit to break, even for a day, but she was disciplined enough to do it, and do it well. Keeping her rigid sitting position as the leader lay down, she watched him for a moment, before returning her gaze to the lands outside the camp. The morning sun was rising and the warmth was a welcome to her aching scars, but, as she felt hunger creep into her stomach, her gaze returned to Milkstar. "May I be dismissed for a moment?" |
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Post by Becca on Dec 15, 2009 18:12:32 GMT
Milkstar twisted his head so that he was looking at Ghostwood from his comfy lying position, a smile of amusement playing at his features. He didn’t mind her unusual behaviour in the least, but he didn’t understand why any cat would act in the way she did. Maybe it had some sort of benefit where she came from; or maybe it was just an odd little quirk of hers. Why ever she did it, he hoped she wouldn’t stop any time soon; it was nice to have someone a little different around.
“Of course.” He mewed, still smiling, “Go and get some breakfast.” He was only guessing that that was what she really wanted, but even if it wasn’t she ought to eat something; it wasn’t like there was any shortage in the rainforest. “I’m afraid I ate the last snake, but there’s plenty of lizards, or rats, if you fancy something a little less fiddly.”
Milksatr wasn’t greedy, a fact that could be seen in his trim, muscular figure, but he did enjoy his food. He was an expert on the different pros and cons of each type of prey available to him, but still his tastes changed on a daily basis. He was just lucky that his beloved island provided him with so much choice and variation in his diet; he would be a much less cheerful cat if it was any other way.
He lay his head on his paws and waited for Ghostwood to fetch her food, wondering if she’d remember not to call him some sort of honorific all day. He wouldn’t angry, or even the slightest bit annoyed, if she didn’t, but he did wonder how well she’d manage.
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Post by Veryxes on Dec 18, 2009 22:41:16 GMT
Ghostwood nodded solemly at the words of the leader, rising her powerful body to a standing position. "I am partial to a little of the feathered variety, si-Milk." She gave a small smile, tail flicking slightly as she turned to pad softly over to the fresh kill pile. She sorted through it with a clawed paw, seeking her favourite and, luckily, finding it. A tasty bird, freshly killed. Eating swiftly, but with good, disciplined manners. She wasted nothing of the animal, taught that every meal could be her last.
Finished, the Deputy began to clean herself thoroughly, leaving no hair unturned. She tilted her head awkwardly, having to do so because of the loss of sight in her left eye. Despite this, she was quick to finish cleaning, a paw licking and clean of the whiskers the last thing needed. Her hunger slightly satisfied and the warmth of the sun on her silver coat, Ghostwood smiled contentedly. This clan was alot more relaxed than her old one, and though she found it strange, she found she actually enjoyed it.
It was time, however, to get back to her duties. Rising once again, the she cat padded softly towards the edge of the clan camp, slipping between trees like a smokey ghost. Her namesake. Her single good eye missed very little, her sensitive ears catching each small sound as it was made. She wasn't as light as a smaller cat, her heavy paws making more sound than smaller paws would, but she was well-practised and careful. Life experience had taught her well. But military practice had taught her a great deal more. Patrolling the land, she was in her element.
[ Sorry it was a lil' slow, had a buuusy couple of days. ] |
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