The Fallen Tree's

[Slug]

Setting: There is a clearing in a forest where a pile of fallen of tree's lay, criss-crossing over eachother in different angles; creating brown brides that go high into the sky, through standing tree's branches, or down low on the ground where they create little huts of shade for resting cats.

Plot: There is no plot-- just to RP your characters, practice them and their personalities; get out the kinds and show their quirks, eh? ;D

You may talk in OOC: if you wish; just remember to use BIC:, please. ^^

[striped]

Striking pelt consisting of all sorts of colors made it's way through the undergrowth. Paws struck the ground rapidly. She was running away, but not because of anything. She was running away from her past. Her scars. She needed peace. She wanted peace and quiet so she could forget Forget everything that had happened to her. She wanted the peace and quiet so she could go back to her friends with a smile across her face. Like nothing was wrong. She wanted everything to be right, but it wasn't.

Smallfoot wanted to be a nice cat, she wanted to be friendly and outgoing. What cat wanted to be skittish. She sure didn't. If only she hadn't been made fun of in her family so much when she was younger. What a shame. She came to a few low hanging trees. It was a chilly day outside, but not biting cold, a sign that leafbare was nearly over. Nearly. That was a word she liked to use when talking about herself. She nearly had forgotten about her past. She was so close to becoming a nice cat, but she just hadn't gotten there.

Lowering herself below one of the low hanging branches, the she-cat tucked her paws underneath her. Smallfoot. She supposed she did have small paws. But it wasn't her fault. The way she acted wasn't her fault. Everything she blamed on her past. She wished she was talkative and outgoing, but it didn't seem like it would be happening. Every time a cat approached her, she jumped in surprise. That wasn't normal, was it? It didn't seem normal. She hoped it was, but she knew it was.

The sun was high in the sky and there were a few clouds aligning with the sun in the sky. It was beautiful, and she hoped it could stay like that forever. Hope. A word she also used a lot. The she-cat used hope so much, for she could only hope, only dream. It was as if the she-cat was too scared to pursue her dreams, to try and stop being so nervous. She always blamed it on something other than herself. The she-cat smiled and closed her eyes. Finally she was along. Peace at last, although she was fairly sure it wasn't going to last that way.

[Rolo]

Frostpaw wandered aimlessly into a large clearing, her steps light as the pine snow crunched beneath her paw. Her off-white coat shone in the sun, her figure almost invisable against the fresh snow that had laid over night.

A giggle echoed in her throat as a sharp breeze whispered through the trees, the chill barely reaching her under her thick coat.

Leaf-bare.

She always marvelled at it. She loved how it made the world so pretty, making everything sparkly and white. Yet, what really struck her when she looked at it was how it looked so pretty but was so deadly. How could anything so innocent-looking be so dangerous?

She smiled, staring up at the sky. Above her she could see the odd patterns the tree made against the sky. This place was quite peaceful, it was nice to find somewhere to think before she had to go off and perform the dull task of hunting.

She sat down for a moment, pondering the view.

[pteriforever]

Smoketail sat silently at the edge of the clearing, her deep eyes staring out into the great forest. She enjoyed nature immensely, but this time there was something wrong in the air. Apart from the cats behind her, it was silent. The forest was silent. Not a single pawstep of any creature could be heard. The forest seemed to be waiting.

Suddenly, the silence was broken as a grop of cats dashed through the undergrowth. She knew what was about to happen could not be good news. She preferred to be out here where nobody could disturb her. he slowly walked of into the forest, leaving the clearing behind her.

[Whiskers]

A swift step brought forth Mistystream, her long legs folded on themselves as she crouched in her careful, balanced stalk. She wasn't hunting anything, no, at least not prey to eat. She was listening, watching and being quite... reserved. She saw the cats enter and she had smelled them moments before; but it was her instinct to hold back and to wait. To observe first, for a moment, before charging in to introduce herself.

It was only the smart thing to do. Though her grandmother would scoff and chastise her for being too careful and hesitant. She should grab life as it comes, Aniela would tell her.

"Oh when will I ever rid myself of my grandmother's voice?" Mistystream whispered to herself, yet she secretly loved it and hoped she would always hear the elder she-cat's rough words in her ear. She just didn't want to admit it out loud-- to depend on another cat? Mistystream? Never! So, just to defy the cat who was not there, she held back longer than she should and watched with attentive eyes and wide nostrils.

She smelled him come in and she moved to hide herself as he passed.(Though she felt ridiculous doing so.) She had smelled another like him; only older and bossier and hardly obscured by... by an herbal fragrance? Mistystream lifted her eyes and gazed upon the young, intelligent face of a ginger tom.
----

Finchpaw couldn't believe his luck.

He was outside. Breathing fresh-air. Feeling the wind on his fur-- yes it made the day seem colder which contradicted the sunlight that bounced heavily from the trees to the ground. But he didn't care. Why in the world would he care for a little chill when he was out of the den, all alone?

Scratch the last one-- there were cats. He stopped abruptly when he saw a fellow apprentice. To be more specific, it was his father's apprentice. Frostpaw.

"Frostpaw?" The name slipped from his tongue quickly and only after did he realize what he just brought upon himself! He rarely, if ever, talked to her, but he heard a lot about her-- actually, he heard her personally all the time. She was quite loud, very vocal about her opinions-- from his father and so he knew about her stubbornness and her... rudeness.

Well who was he to judge on a bit of gossip...right? She could be pleasant...right?

[/size]

[Slug]

Crowclaw sat there on his haunches, staring out from the darkness of the shadows; eyes glowing like hot, white coals under the fallen tree trunks. Tail curling this way and that behind him-- ears swiveling side to side like rotars-- Crowclaw eyed the space around him like it was his worst enemy, bareing his fangs at the sun's light; gleaming like sharpend lilac colored stones.

His black pelt prickled at the feel of cold snow beneath him, yellow eyes closing in unabashed leisure; his belly fur soaking up the melting ice like a midnight spondge.

So close was New-Leaf...

Crowclaw's gleaming gold eyes snapped open. "I can taste it." Came the purr, smooth as roughend up silk. The black tom shuddered in delight. "My patience is thinning," He murmured, eyes half-lidded. "Like a blade of grass-- but I won't have to wait long, will I: Sootclaw?"

The puddle forming beneath him mearly shimmered; his reflection saying nothing.

[Rolo]

Frostpaw jolted as the voice shattered the silence. Instantly, her brow furrowed into a scowl. Firstly she was annoyed that she hadn't realised that any cats were around, secondly she was annoyed to find that there were.

The grey she-cat tasted the air and sighed when she realised that there was more then one cat. Way more than one cat. And from what her nose and hearing was telling her, Rowanheart's fate-meddling son was here. Joy of joys. One second where she thought she could rest and now she was surrounded by idiotic, loud cats and a medicine cat.

She sighed, turning around to the small apprentice. Her scowl was gone but her gaze was cold, "Yes?"

The voice was abrupt and patronising, though she hadn't made any effort to sound so. She stood up instantly, turning to face the apprentice.

[Crowzerplorodon]

Soft paw steps could be heard as paws broke through the thin layer of ice that sheltered the snow, making their way to who knows where. It was one of the better days this Leaf-Bare, the sun shining warmly down onto the forest and the snow not as heavy as it normally was. And in an area like this -- one with many fallen and standing trees -- there was even less snow than in the open expanses of the meadow not to far, where this cat resided.

The cat's long, silvery-gray fur kept him even warmed than the day's sun did, a little two warm. He wished now more than ever he shared his parent's short, silky fur. But sadly he had inherited some long dormant trait in his family's genes. Green eyes blinked slowly, wondering if that was a cat's voice he had just heard up ahead.

Trying not to seem eager, the young cat slipped through the trees a little quicker, it proving difficult due to his bulk. This tom wasn't the most agile cat in the territories -- that was for sure.

Suddenly the ground dropped out from under him, sending him crashing into the snow. "Mousedung!" He cursed, scrambling to his paws and sending looks of hatred toward the fallen tree he had just launched off from. Hopefully no other cats saw that, he thought bitterly. "What a joke, they'd say." Jaypaw recited. "Clumsy oaf, they'd mocked."

[Poizuun]

With a mind constantly going eight hundred miles an hour, always filled with Clan duties and what she needed to do next, it was nice to get away once in a while. Even though her paws were still itching to be hunting or just running anywhere. Instead, the technicolor she-cat was lazing about in the "upper" branches of a tree, though it was fallen and not even very high off the ground. Out of her reach in a vertical jump, but not a fall that would kill her, if she stopped paying attention and rolled over the side.

Her dull claws, that were oh-so normal in MeadowClan territory, dragged along the grooves of the bark, peeling off large chunks of the dead and/or dying tree. Mothtail had no idea how long it had been felled, or how long a tree could live without being attached to its roots. Would it die instantly, like a head being lopped off, or slowly, like a deep wound into the belly, painstakingly growing weaker until finally succumbing?

Stirring in the area below alerted her to other presences that weren't any form of prey to be interested in. No, in fact, they were other Clan cats. Not really of her Clan, judging by the numerous scents that mixed together, though she could maybe pick out one or two. Picking herself up to her long legs, she set off down the trunk, tail twisting in the air, whiskers thrust forward and ears perked. Her pale blue eyes were large and focused while her paws moved, one in front of the other with the precision as if a line had been drawn for her to walk along.

[Kiddo [le pwnsome]]

Ashfang padded through the trees, avoiding the tree roots. He didn't need a twisted paw on top of all the other troubles of leaf-bare. He looked up at the feeble sun.

Shine he thought, Shine brighter please.

Nothing happened.

He huffed out a sparkling cloud of breath that dissipated in the winds. He blew out again, watching the mist-like breath vanish. He smiled a little at that.

Then he suddenly felt childish. He was amused by his own breathing! What next?

He forced himself to focus. He was supposed to be hunting. Wearily, he started off again, paws scraping against the icy ground with small rasping sounds.