Post by slack on Mar 6, 2011 20:31:15 GMT -6
Inhaling, Oakheart’s lungs thrilled at the crisp purity in the air. Early green-leaf mornings were exceptionally high on the tom’s list of favorite things. He stretched his slender neck high and pushed his broad nose into the slight breeze, his bat-like ears drawing back and his slanted jade eyes narrowing against the cool wind. His sides expanded with the large breath he inhaled and his lips curved into a smile of bliss. For a brief notch in time, the dark tom’s heart thrummed within his slim chest in pure gratification. He inhaled deeply once more, reveling in the idyllic atmosphere before he was forced back into reality. WindClan's freshkill pile was fairly stocked, but it would be low after breakfast and Oakheart wasn’t about to waste the gorgeous morning sleeping in. He lowered his elegant head and glanced back into the dim warrior’s den, briefly wondering which heaps of fur would join him that morning.
The heavens were on fire overhead. His wide, olive-colored eyes studied the brilliant splashes of colors, transfixed by the different hues of fuchsia and scarlet. The dappled periwinkle clouds floated languidly across the picturesque dawn sky, drawing his attention away from thoughts of hunting and the drama of Clan-life. Sometimes, not often, Oakheart enjoyed letting his attention drift. It kept him occupied while he waited. He wasn’t even entirely certain if he’d have volunteers to join him, but Oakheart was optimistic. The morning’s vitality had put the young tom in a particularly jaunty mood. So, wait he did. He wouldn’t linger much longer, though. His paws were itching to feel the moor beneath them.
The heavens were on fire overhead. His wide, olive-colored eyes studied the brilliant splashes of colors, transfixed by the different hues of fuchsia and scarlet. The dappled periwinkle clouds floated languidly across the picturesque dawn sky, drawing his attention away from thoughts of hunting and the drama of Clan-life. Sometimes, not often, Oakheart enjoyed letting his attention drift. It kept him occupied while he waited. He wasn’t even entirely certain if he’d have volunteers to join him, but Oakheart was optimistic. The morning’s vitality had put the young tom in a particularly jaunty mood. So, wait he did. He wouldn’t linger much longer, though. His paws were itching to feel the moor beneath them.