The Blush of Dawn [open]

[Kin]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i907.photobucket.com/albums/ac277/Myrrdyn/Grousefoottable_zps6c2e503b.png); width: 490px; height: 600px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px;margin-bottom:-15px;] Beautiful, pastel colors stretched across the sky, blending together to create a gorgeous sunrise. A blushing orange hung on the treetops, its palest portion visible above the branches, as it paled and reached for the salmon-pink above it. The rich pink faded into teal, which bled into a deep blue that dominated greenleaf skies, and quietly transitioned into the dark blue of night, where the brightest stars of Silverpelt still shone weakly against the morning light. Dawn turned the sky into a palette of colors, and had always seemed so tranquil to Grousefoot. She stood for a moment at the edge of the open area and just gazed upward, amber eyes drinking in the sight. It left a sense of quiet peace in her bones that not even a good night's sleep could manage, and allowed the she-cat to believe that these tense times could, eventually, be left behind. That day would not be any time soon, however, and so she did not make wishes or hang her hopes on them. Instead, Grousefoot made sure that the fresh-kill pile never ran too low, and passed areas with a clear view of the border or areas that were downwind, quickly checking that all seemed quiet. They were never official patrols, and could never really be called such. Her mentor Cloudeyes had just instilled the habit in her, and it was one the lithe tabby had never bothered to suppress. Around her, the occasional tenacious leaf lost its battle with gravity and fell silently to the earth, swaying and twisting in the light breeze. It trailed light, cold claws through her fur, running teasingly along her spine and eliciting a shiver. The she-cat shifted her weight, raising her paws as little as possible to perform the action. However, they still brushed against dead leaves, causing faint rustling sounds. They seemed loud to the tabby's ears, which flicked briefly in the direction of the noise before returning to an upright, alert position. She padded forward slowly and quietly, four senses stretched out to detect prey. Her jaws were parted, allowing air to flow over and through her muzzle, to better reach her scent glands. Grousefoot's nose kept up a steady huff of inhaling scent, directing the used air out of her mouth, whiskers twitching and monitoring the direction of the wind. Atop her head, her ears swiveled at every little sound, attempting to take in everything at once. Amber eyes raked through the grass, searching carefully for signs of travel or movement. Finding prey would grow more likely as she moved closer to the abandoned twolegcamp. It had been one of her favorite places to hunt for a long time, and Grousefoot had fond memories of her mentor Cloudeyes grumbling and watching over her as she scaled the various oddly-shaped boughs that littered the structure, claws and love of tree-climbing serving her well. She'd always been a better paw than average at hunting in the place, her odd skills serving only to give her a greater variety of angles of attack and eliminating several escape routes prey could use with other warriors. Inside of the ramshackle twolegplace, the air was even cooler than outside, where a thin veneer of frost clung to everything, making it shine softly in the light. Traces of frost had wormed their way into the wooden structure as well, lending the area a false brightness and cold feeling that had nothing to do with the snow-worthy temperature. Her pink paw pads pressed against the bare wood, allowing it to leech the warmth from the exposed skin. She continued in, frowning lightly. No matter how thick her coat was, it seemed that her paw pads would always be a point of weakness. A light scratching sound drifted from the far corner of the 'place, registering with Grousefoot's conscious mind only after her body had automatically dropped into a hunter's crouch and begun to slink forward. Her steps were light, whisper-soft in the cool, dark space. She stalked forward slowly, maneuvering her body under and over toppled square boughs, carefully honing in on the sound. It moved away from her at a leisurely, unconcerned pace, and the tabby noted that she was gaining on it with a flitting sense of satisfaction. Alas, a hunt could never be counted a success until the prey dangled limply from her jaw, and so Grousefoot shoved the emotion aside and continued. She moved around a large, square trunk that stopped abruptly a couple of cat lengths above the ground, and spotted the mouse. Unfortunately, as it was facing her, the mouse spotted her too. It squeaked in alarm and turned, bolting. Grousefoot hissed and bounded after it, her longer legs and powerful stride eating up the ground between herself and her quarry. The mouse scrambled toward a gap between one of the fallen boughs and the wooden ground too small for a cat, and she increased her stride in response. Just before the creature reached the gap, she pounced, barely catching it by its tail as it dove for cover. Squeaking indignantly and twisting to gnaw at her paw, the mouse glared balefully. After a second of staring amusedly at its ineffective attempts to escape, Grousefoot ducked her head and delivered the killing blow. She padded to the entrance of the twoleg nest and laid the mouse there, intent on adding more to her little pile before she returned to camp and partook of the fresh-kill pile. While she was entitled to the larger pieces of prey, the elders, queens, and kits needed time to eat their fill. Her stomach growled a protest, which she ignored. While the brown tabby had no belief of StarClan in a cat's daily life, she saw good sense in the warrior code, and endeavored to follow it at all times. 962 words -- no notes -- no tags [/style]

[daliery]

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a sheer cloak of gray muffled the dawn sky. muted orange and pink hues were visible through the covering, offering a bit of color to the otherwise drab landscape. the trees that dotted riverclan's marshy territory were bleak and bare from being stripped of the lush canopy of leaves that adorned their branches during leaf-fall. fawnstep thought the forest looked simply stunning during leaf-bare, but the icy season brought nothing but bad times for her clan. riverclan's main source of food would freeze over, and the cats would be forced to hunt for their food on land.

mice were the easiest to catch, and an abundance lived in the abandoned twolegplace. the abandoned twolegplace was an old structure, and no wonder it was abandoned, for it was caved in and broken in several places. although, it served as a dry shelter for when a flood happened, which was a rare occasion. outside of it was perhaps one of the dryest spots of Riverclan's territory, an ideal place to train and roam about.

fawnstep's slender legs moved at a brisk pace, she wanted to catch a few mice before joining a patrol later in the day. she was an active clan cat, always hunting and joining patrols whenever possible. yes, she was a former kittypet too, which gave her more reason to try harder in providing for the clan so that her clanmates respected her. many didn't care of her heritage, nonetheless the ones that did acknowledged her bitterly.

her pink paw pads felt as cold as ice, but she continued on, the small shape of the twolegplace growing larger and larger each second. she placed her paws carefully, so as not to get a splinter in her pads from the crumbling wood and broken boughs that littered the interior. once safely inside, she scanned the room and was surprised to find she was not alone. grousefoot sat in the corner of the house, a small brown mouse lying lifelessly by her paws. "hey grousefoot! nice catch. i came here to hunt too, since the river is just about covered completely in ice." she meowed.

her ears perked and she swiveled her head when she heard the unmistakable noise of a rodent scampering over the floor. she dropped into a hunter's crouch, belly fur brushing the ground, weight shifted to her haunches. sliding one paw forward, one after the other, she advanced slowly on the mouse.

a leaf, that had no doubt fallen in through the crumbling roof, went unnoticed by the she-cat. the leaf made a loud crackle as it was trod on, frightening the mouse back into its hole. fawnstep bounded after it, scrabbling at the entrance to where the mouse had escaped. "frog-dung!" she hissed, tail lashing.

(if it's too short just pm me, i can make it longer haha)
EDIT: changed fox-dung to frog-dung because she's in riverclan

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[Kin]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i907.photobucket.com/albums/ac277/Myrrdyn/Grousefoottable_zps6c2e503b.png); width: 490px; height: 600px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px;margin-bottom:-15px;] "Hey Grousefoot! Nice catch. I came here to hunt too, since the river is just about covered completely in ice." Looking up from the mouse at her paws, Grousefoot blinked at the cat who'd spoken. Pale brown fur and green eyes lent as much of a clue to her identity as the she-cat's voice. Fawnstep, who'd been born a kittypet. She'd taken to the life well enough, and flourished in it. Grousefoot made no distinction between the Clanborn of her fellows and the outsider-born of them. Some nights their nests wound up near each others' and some nights they wound up on opposite ends of the den. It was simply something that happened, and she was not the sort to grumble about the blood of the Clan, unlike certain of the Clan. What mattered to the brown tabby was the spirit inside. If a cat couldn't devote themselves to the wellbeing and defense of their Clan, they weren't a true warrior, no matter their blood. Cats like Fawnstep and Cloudeyes were true warriors, dedicated to their Clan and Clanmates, willing to fight and defend. Grousefoot took very seriously the duties of a warrior, volunteering for the patrols with the fewest cats or that needed a pair of sharp eyes and hunting whenever she wasn't tending to Pebblepaw's training. She appreciated those who took a similar approach to life, and especially those who were in the habit of starting with or before the dawn. As the light spilling into the dilapidated twolegcamp was warm and blushing with the warmth of dawn, it would seem that Fawnstep was of like habits. A rustling sounded, and Grousefoot turned. The sound was unmistakable-- the sound of a rodent emerging from its hiding place. Immediately, the lithe she-cat twisted around and loped on quiet paws to one of the toppled square-boughs and clawed her way up it, attempting to pinpoint the sound by sight as well as hearing. Fawnstep did not seem to need the aerial view, as she dropped straight into a hunter's crouch and prowled forward. Amber eyes watched as the other she-cat crept forward, paw by paw. Brown flashed past her face, and Grousefoot jerked back. Innocently, a dried leaf, browned by the season, fluttered to the ground between Fawnstep and the mouse. It crackled underpaw the moment she stepped on it, having approached too quickly for her to call a warning. The mouse froze at the sound, remaining rigid for a beat before darting back into its hole. Fawnstep chased it to its hole, paws scrabbling at the hole's entrance. She hissed, and Grousefoot's ears pinned back for a moment in sympathy. Such a small thing, so easy to overlook and so quickly able to ruin a catch. "Bad luck," Grousefoot called down. "Fox-dung!" Grimacing, Grousefoot climbed down from the bough and stood near Fawnstep. Her ears canted forward and her nose twitched, both senses reaching out for the next sign of prey. She padded away from the other she-cat, knowing that there was only so long they could stay in the place without scaring all the prey away. After all, there was no wind here to carry away their scents, and so the scent would linger wherever they'd stepped. Judging between the level of light when she'd arrived and the the level of light currently filtering through the openings, they'd have until the blush of dawn retreated to the brightness of day before the area was saturated in their scent. She shook her head to clear it of those thoughts and scented the air. All she could smell at the moment was the faint, omnipresent tinge of rodent-prey, and the brine-limned scent of Fawnstep. Whatever prey remained in the place was hiding from the two predators for the moment, likely frightened back into their holes by the sounds they'd made. 615 words -- like i said, i'm happy to roleplay no matter the level. tad short on muse myself. -- tagged! fawnstep [/style]

[daliery]

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fawnstep sniffed disdainfully at the mousehole. "bad luck," the brown she-cat called down to her. "yeah, just some bad luck." she mewed, crestfallen. nose twitching slightly, the she-cat scanned the room for any lingering scent of prey. there was the unmistakable scent of rodent, but most, if not all of them, had been scared away into their shelters because of the racket fawnstep had made. it would be a while before the rodents were feeling bold enough to stray from their shelters. she knew they couldn't stay there all day, for the two she-cat's scents would linger and there would be absolutely no chance of them catching any more prey, and dragging a single, scraggly mouse back to camp after spending a whole moonrise in the forest would be quite embarrassing.

light as a feather, the brown tabby leapt to the floor next to fawnstep. grousefoot padded away, her ears angled forward, enough evidence to make apparent that she was also searching for signs of prey. nimbly, fawnstep leapt on to a bough, glancing over the edges and watching for signs of movement.

a cold draft entered through the crumbling ceiling, chilling the she-cat beneath her fur. she puffed out her fur, continuing along the coarse bark. out of the corner of her eye, she saw a brown something moving around in the snow outside. normally, if the twoleg house had been completely intact, she wouldn't have been able to see outside, but the holey structure made it possible.

fawnstep slunk slowly down the bough, waiting a beat before each pawstep as extra caution not to repeat what she had done to scare away her prey before. she stepped lightly on to the ground of the twoleg house and over the jagged pieces of door still standing. she was thankful of her light-colored pelt, but not of the snow, which sent shivers through her body as she pressed her belly to the ground. sparing a heartbeat to glance up at the sky, she could see that the blush of dawn was beginning to wave a silent goodbye while the brightness of day came to greet the forest.

the mouse, although busy scavenging around for food not far from a small tunnel leading deep into the earth, was being smartly cautious, unfortunately for the she-cat. fawnstep pressed on, a fox-length away from it, then a tail-length, then a pawstep. then she pounced, a fleeting glimpse of horror in the mouse's beady eyes and then nothing.

she cheered silently in her head and buried the mouse under a thin layer of snow to preserve its freshness. in the snow, fawnstep felt as if the scent of everything around her was slightly muted by the snow and she couldn't sense things as well. . . that's it! "grousefoot, come and roll in the snow out here, i think it might hide our scent a little better from the mice." she mewed optimistically. she thought it was a pretty good idea, but immediately after she had pitched it, she felt hot under her pelt. fawnstep was only a recently-made warrior, and she was asking the deputy to do something.

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