eden's gate || open

[cobweb]

bitternpaw
" i will not bow , i will not break "

Most of Bitternapw’s clan mates were huddled in their designated dens. Their wets pelts pushed up against one another vying for each other’s warmth. Kittens, unafraid by the diseases that were sired by the cold and the rain, dashed about in the mud. Moss balls went flying and protesting squeaks were heard in the heart of camp. Rain fell from the grey, crackled sky and small streams of light sparkled upon the muddles of water. A storm was approaching but it was taking its time. A massive Bengal tom shouldered his way out of the apprentice den. No one protested, in fact they all seemed to shrink away from his presence. He was quite pleased with their reaction even though his face remained expressionless. Bitternpaw wasn’t considered a friendly cat but then again not a lot of felines within Shadowclan were too friendly.

Once out of camp he trotted toward the Pine Forest. The scent of pine needles and rainfall comforted him and reminded him why he was born here. He couldn’t imagine living in any other territory especially Windclan’s where there was no place to hide. The constant shadows gave the large tom solace and although he was muscular he prided himself on his stealth. He would never be as quick or agile as those in Windclan and Riverclan but he made up for his lacking qualities. With each paw step his muscles rippled beneath his beautiful striped pelt. Every inch of the tom screamed Shadowclan except for his eyes. They were a soft hue, like the ocean. That was the only trait that could have suggested Thunderclan and it was because of his eyes that she-cats tended to be drawn to him. Of course, the tom would have nothing to do with she-cats. He found them to be weak and irritating. He held respect for those that earned it, the ones that could hold their own in both battle and in a debate. Most she-cats were petty and squawked around like love sick doves—it was something he could go without.

He trekked further into the shadowy forest. The dead needles beneath his paws were soggy and soaked into the pads of his paws. But the canopy overhead fended off most of the rain. Only snippets of the remaining sunlight could trickle down to the forest floor. The tom would never admit it to anyone but he loved his forest and the beauty it possessed. Flowers colored both red and yellow sprouted from the lax soil and ferns and brambles hovered along the base of the trees. This place was his home, the only place he would ever belong.

[ word count ; 441 ]
[ tagged ; open ]
[ notes ; none ]