Post by Willowishness on Aug 4, 2008 20:50:14 GMT -5
MottledBug's brown-green eyes stared desolately at horizion where the blood red sky and the heavily shadowed bog territory met. Her body posture was one of defeat; her shoulders were slumped, her tail dragged in the murky pools she waded through.
The sun was setting, and still MottledBug hadnt managed to catch any prey. Not a single stupid mouse lived in this place. Every bit of prey was evolved and smart, with many generations of practice in avoiding the many predators in the swamp, cats included.
Yet the young she-cat continued to trudge through the mud, murk, and rotting sludge. She uncomfortably ignored the fact that the reason why the ground rotted in some places was that the "ground" must have been alive once but had decayed beyond recognition.
While padding slowly through a still pool that reached up to her shoulders, she tripped on a branch, going completely under water and coming face-to-face with an old cat skull, half buried in the mud. Surprised, she inhaled a mouthful of water before staggering back to her paws, breaking the surface of the water, spluttering and coughing.
She scrambled up the thick mud to higher ground, where she crouched, shivering. Her face displayed extreem annoyance.
This swamp had to be cursed. There was no other logical reason as to why a whole clan's worth of cats only came home with one or two pieces of prey a day.
The dappled she-cat watched one of the numberous swamp toads hop by; she trembled once with cold fury. Then she slammed a pawful of unsheathed claws onto the tiny lumpy creature and smiled darkly as it twitched and died under her paw.
She cleaned the black blood off her claws and watched the moon rise.
"Why dont you eat it? You're being wasteful just leaving it there."
MottledBug started when someone spoke to her. She glanced around her, trying to recover her dignity. But all sense and dignity was lost when the premonition of evil swept over her; it was like being in Malice's presence again, though Malice was dead.
MottledBug's fur bristled as she prepared to fight whatever it was that had startled her and was causing these suffocating feelings of wickedness.
She turned, eyes searching for the form of a cat.
She nearly turned and ran as she saw, standing in front of her as if it had muscles and tendons to hold it together, a skeleton. No... THE skeleton. Or rather, the skull she'd seen in the water and it's white picked-clean body.
MottledBug closed her eyes tight; this was not happening. It was a figment of her food-starved imagination. She was hungry and halucinating.
The entity in front of her cackled wildly.
The dappled she-cat opened her eyes, shocked to see that the skeleton was still there.
MottledBug racked her mind for how this could be possible.
Maybe she had died and went to the Abyss, for some reason.
"What do you want?" She spoke, surprised by the boldness in her own voice.
"I want what you want. I'm here to help you and the new Clan." It cackled again.
MottledBug hissed softly. And next she blinked, it was gone. MottledBug's fur crawled. Had she just had a vision? But only medicine cats and the unique groups of each clan -star gazers, light scripters, alchemists, and fire seers- had visions.
Feeling thoroughly spooked, MottledBug looked around her. The still pool she had fallen in earlier and everything around it seemed a lot more sinister now. The leafless trees looked like claws against the indigo-black sky and the scenery had a surreal sharpness to it.
She turned to run back to camp, but felt her paws stumble over something. She looked down, then broke into a panicked sprint for home.
She had stumbled over a bone. . .
=Back At Camp=
She entered the Fifth Clan's makeshift camp on a barren dry bit of ground, eyes on the ground, trying not to look too spooked.
The reason her new clan had chosen this place to make camp was because it was dry and had some ferns and brambles for shelter. She sat down in the swath of ferns that had become the warrior's den to ponder what had happened. The toads... could you eat them, as the spector had suggested? The idea repulsed her, but she resolved to try it later. Tomorrow morning, when there was sun to chase away unexplained shadows. But even when the sun shone, the land her clan had chosen to live on was dark and chilling.
She shifted uneasily when another cat sat down beside her in the warrior's den.
The other cat's fur was just as mud-plastered and messy as MottledBug's... ((anyone?))
The sun was setting, and still MottledBug hadnt managed to catch any prey. Not a single stupid mouse lived in this place. Every bit of prey was evolved and smart, with many generations of practice in avoiding the many predators in the swamp, cats included.
Yet the young she-cat continued to trudge through the mud, murk, and rotting sludge. She uncomfortably ignored the fact that the reason why the ground rotted in some places was that the "ground" must have been alive once but had decayed beyond recognition.
While padding slowly through a still pool that reached up to her shoulders, she tripped on a branch, going completely under water and coming face-to-face with an old cat skull, half buried in the mud. Surprised, she inhaled a mouthful of water before staggering back to her paws, breaking the surface of the water, spluttering and coughing.
She scrambled up the thick mud to higher ground, where she crouched, shivering. Her face displayed extreem annoyance.
This swamp had to be cursed. There was no other logical reason as to why a whole clan's worth of cats only came home with one or two pieces of prey a day.
The dappled she-cat watched one of the numberous swamp toads hop by; she trembled once with cold fury. Then she slammed a pawful of unsheathed claws onto the tiny lumpy creature and smiled darkly as it twitched and died under her paw.
She cleaned the black blood off her claws and watched the moon rise.
"Why dont you eat it? You're being wasteful just leaving it there."
MottledBug started when someone spoke to her. She glanced around her, trying to recover her dignity. But all sense and dignity was lost when the premonition of evil swept over her; it was like being in Malice's presence again, though Malice was dead.
MottledBug's fur bristled as she prepared to fight whatever it was that had startled her and was causing these suffocating feelings of wickedness.
She turned, eyes searching for the form of a cat.
She nearly turned and ran as she saw, standing in front of her as if it had muscles and tendons to hold it together, a skeleton. No... THE skeleton. Or rather, the skull she'd seen in the water and it's white picked-clean body.
MottledBug closed her eyes tight; this was not happening. It was a figment of her food-starved imagination. She was hungry and halucinating.
The entity in front of her cackled wildly.
The dappled she-cat opened her eyes, shocked to see that the skeleton was still there.
MottledBug racked her mind for how this could be possible.
Maybe she had died and went to the Abyss, for some reason.
"What do you want?" She spoke, surprised by the boldness in her own voice.
"I want what you want. I'm here to help you and the new Clan." It cackled again.
MottledBug hissed softly. And next she blinked, it was gone. MottledBug's fur crawled. Had she just had a vision? But only medicine cats and the unique groups of each clan -star gazers, light scripters, alchemists, and fire seers- had visions.
Feeling thoroughly spooked, MottledBug looked around her. The still pool she had fallen in earlier and everything around it seemed a lot more sinister now. The leafless trees looked like claws against the indigo-black sky and the scenery had a surreal sharpness to it.
She turned to run back to camp, but felt her paws stumble over something. She looked down, then broke into a panicked sprint for home.
She had stumbled over a bone. . .
=Back At Camp=
She entered the Fifth Clan's makeshift camp on a barren dry bit of ground, eyes on the ground, trying not to look too spooked.
The reason her new clan had chosen this place to make camp was because it was dry and had some ferns and brambles for shelter. She sat down in the swath of ferns that had become the warrior's den to ponder what had happened. The toads... could you eat them, as the spector had suggested? The idea repulsed her, but she resolved to try it later. Tomorrow morning, when there was sun to chase away unexplained shadows. But even when the sun shone, the land her clan had chosen to live on was dark and chilling.
She shifted uneasily when another cat sat down beside her in the warrior's den.
The other cat's fur was just as mud-plastered and messy as MottledBug's... ((anyone?))
