A lazy sun rose slowly above the horizon, chasing the velvety shadows back into oblivion with it's garish light. Troutspots drifted aimlessly between the reeds and stones, her pale paws drumming a quiet beat on her uncharted path. It was another beautiful morning, full of life and light. So then why did she feel so... hollow? The air was rich with the sickly-sweet scents of flowers and moss as the summer's breeze tumbled along the rocky shores of the Fishing Stones. Rustling branches and babbling waves played gentle melodies over sullen droning of bees. The clan was well fed, the repairs to the camp were nearly complete, and aside from Spottedfish's passing, there has been no further cause for dispair. Trout was normally so vivacious. A reckless heart filled with the unbrindled pride and stubbourness that could only spring from the ignorance of youth. There was absolutely no reason why the fiery warrior should find herself in such an apathetic mood.
Yet there she was. A tall russet shadow standing on the cold stone's edge. Her empty, amber eyes watching the river lap gently over her toes as the languid rays of light drifted over her spotted pelt in a warm embrace. "What to do?" She murmured in voice that was just barely softer than the coo of a dove. Trout could do a little independant hunting, the way she prefered to. Perhaps she might even be proactive and gather fresh moss and branches to aid in the rebuilding of the dens. But... no. Not right now at least. The dappled sunlight was caught in a mesmerizing dance with the shadows over the water and rocks. Each movement predictable and elegant until the next brush of wind called for the tempo to change. Her mind was blank and gaze was fixated on those distant ripples.