Post by spike on Jan 23, 2010 2:41:25 GMT -6
"Oh, Creamfoot, you beat me by almost thirty moons and you're still up before me," the tom grumbled as he hobbled his way from the elder's den. His pelt was hued a strange copper color, quite the opposite to his many sons and daughter. Thick black stripes glowed from a fresh grooming and he never would've seemed like an elder if it hadn't been for the slight accent to his middle. It was, easy to say, plump from rest.
The silvery whiskers were twitching with amusement until they fell on the other warrior. "Oh, good morning, Grouseclaw," the elder greeted. "It's a fine morning, hm?" The warrior just looked away without really acknowledging the father. Grasswhisker hated that most of all. Grouseclaw was once his only son. Then Grasswhisker had an urge to father more kits and it was since Mistfur's birth that he began to despise the very cat that fathered him.
"Alright, don't talk," Grasswhisker chuckled. "Creamfoot, I see Smallpaw running off. Good to see him on his paws, hm?"
What an old fool! Grouseclaw might've been a more nervous cat but he knew anger. He knew it well. The golden eyes, ones he inheritated from an unknown place, were trying to concentrate on a nearby pebble. Grasswhisker was young to be an elder. At seventy-seven moons, he should've been a warrior. But the tom claimed he had enough when it came to fighting and hunting. His limbs didn't agree to it anymore, he claimed, and there was more than enough cats to spare one tom some extra moons of rest. It was quite strange that the leader actually agreed to it.
Grouseclaw and Grasswhisker never got along. Their separation as father and son only increased as the line continued on. Mistfur, Cinderclaw, Stormpelt, and, lastly, Sagepaw. Everybody adored Sagepaw and Grouseclaw had to admit, she was adorable. But he never could bring himself to be as clos eas the other brothers were. Sagepaw was as much part of Grasswhisker's random obsession as the others.
"I'm going hunting, or something," Grouseclaw finally murmured before rising to his paws. "Good day, Creamfoot." As the long-limbed tom wandered into the camp, he kept thinking back to his father. Sweet, sweet Grasswhisker would never understand.
The silvery whiskers were twitching with amusement until they fell on the other warrior. "Oh, good morning, Grouseclaw," the elder greeted. "It's a fine morning, hm?" The warrior just looked away without really acknowledging the father. Grasswhisker hated that most of all. Grouseclaw was once his only son. Then Grasswhisker had an urge to father more kits and it was since Mistfur's birth that he began to despise the very cat that fathered him.
"Alright, don't talk," Grasswhisker chuckled. "Creamfoot, I see Smallpaw running off. Good to see him on his paws, hm?"
What an old fool! Grouseclaw might've been a more nervous cat but he knew anger. He knew it well. The golden eyes, ones he inheritated from an unknown place, were trying to concentrate on a nearby pebble. Grasswhisker was young to be an elder. At seventy-seven moons, he should've been a warrior. But the tom claimed he had enough when it came to fighting and hunting. His limbs didn't agree to it anymore, he claimed, and there was more than enough cats to spare one tom some extra moons of rest. It was quite strange that the leader actually agreed to it.
Grouseclaw and Grasswhisker never got along. Their separation as father and son only increased as the line continued on. Mistfur, Cinderclaw, Stormpelt, and, lastly, Sagepaw. Everybody adored Sagepaw and Grouseclaw had to admit, she was adorable. But he never could bring himself to be as clos eas the other brothers were. Sagepaw was as much part of Grasswhisker's random obsession as the others.
"I'm going hunting, or something," Grouseclaw finally murmured before rising to his paws. "Good day, Creamfoot." As the long-limbed tom wandered into the camp, he kept thinking back to his father. Sweet, sweet Grasswhisker would never understand.