The Elders Den {Lynx&Cougar}

[hayy]

Lynxstorm sat stock still in a dominant, dignified, and imposing position-which was, as is usually the case with things which posses the above merits, rather uncomfortable, but the fluffy grey-brown tom didn't seem to notice. If he did, he would have most likely shifted enough to not appear like a foolish kit, but still be comfortable. Formalities and the like annoyed the painfully young warrior, who avoided mentioning his age at nearly all costs. Though all the cats that had made the journey from ForestClan doubtless remembered the outgoing, loud, and yet still inexplicably contemplative, bright, and withdrawn kit who walked amongst them, still only a few weeks old, and the beginning of the journey, and eventually received an informal, but complete, education in the later months, many cats either forgot or never knew of his youth. Lynxstorm was rarely dismissed for his age any longer, as not only was there a massive influx of cats far more naive to clan ways than the street-wise, brilliant tom, but, even without speaking to the warrior, there was something about his eyes and his face, in all their glowering, intense splendor, that made him seem like a cat who had been everywhere and seen most things, and his long, well-groomed, but disobedient, coat added to the stormy dignity that was Lynxstorm. He exuded precociousness, and was happy to live up to the expectation.
Lynxstorm had many levels of consciousness, ranging from nearly immovable and deep in thought, to utterly immersed in experience and hyper-alert. He maintained feverishly that he saw no reason why thinking would be superior to living, but he did demand that cats live with a good measure of both. Lynxstorm was almost never without thought, however. He spent large portions of time only thinking, but the majority of the rest of his life was spent either performing mundane tasks, during which he thought with almost the same efficiency as when he was focused slowly on thinking, or experiencing, living, and arguing-during which he learned and processed information simultaneously.
Lynxstorm, currently, was not in a particularly deep trance, and was keeping an ear open and twitching about for any snippet of a conversation that pertained to something he felt particularly strongly about, or was exceedingly stupid: most things his fellow cats said fell into the category of stupid to the smirking, infuriating warrior. The occurrence of either of the aforementioned had a decent chance of bringing the warrior to his overlarge paws and striding huffily over to declare purposely insulting or attacking statements in an unnecessarily loud voice.