Ashwhisper The Soft-Spoken Yet Hardy She-Warrior Of Shadowclan
Ever since the snowstorm two years ago, Ashwhisper often had issues with dull pains in her lower back. She had been injured due to the entrance of the Warriors Den collapsing on her as she took shelter from the sudden blizzard that had descended mercilessly upon Shadowclan. Despite this, the five-year-old she-cat who was still very much in her prime, did not allow the pain to deter her from her Warrior duties. It was tolerable, and at least she still had her life, and if she had to deal with a flare up of agony here and there- then so be it.
As the silver-gray molly trotted along refreshing border markings and keeping her mint-green eyes on the lookout for prey, she silently thanked Starclan for her life. The fact that she could still stalk through the emerald blades of grass, feel the warm kiss of the sun’s golden rays upon her pelt that soothed her aches, and listen for the beautiful symphony of the forest’s sounds... it was enough for her to know that her survival was worth it after all.
The soft babble of the stream soothed any misgivings she had, and out of the corner of her eyes she spotted a fog, and with one swift pounce and swipe of the paw she knocked it against a rock and descended upon it to deliver a killing blow.
Though the taste of the mucus that covered the frog left much to be desired, Ashwhisper knew it would feed her clan well.
She would leave it for the other warriors, and figure out her own meal later. She looked around and found a log and stuffed the frog into it to return to it later. She wanted to at least catch two or three more pieces of prey to take back to Shadowclan.
With that, she shoved leaves over the frog to hide it, and then trotted onwards. A rare smile stretched itself across her maw as she stumbled across a patch of flowers, she stopped for a moment to crane her head down and took a long whiff of the pretty pink petals.
The scent was mild, but delightful all the same. She looked around, her eyes scanning the forest, and once she was satisfied no one would see her she dug up one of the blossoms and plucked it from the earth.
She slipped the stem around her ear, to keep the blossom in place and then made her way to the stream to stare at her reflection.
She purred, admiring the way the pink blossom matched so perfectly with her eyes. Though she would inevitably hide her blossom away before returning to camp, she would appreciate it while she could.
Scorchfire would have sworn cats couldn't fly, until he witnessed it. The she cat fumbled around before turning ti glare at him and address him.
Scorchfire frowned, flicking an ear. "Why would I care enough to remember at all?" He grumbled, scowling. The tom shrugged, flicking to his own paws which were scratched by thorns and brambles.
Turning his emerald gaze to the sky, he shrugged uncomfortably with embarrassment. "I am sorry I startled you." He murmured.
Sunlight left slivers of warm rays resting across the forest floor. The breaking and snapping of twigs seemed to echo as a handsome ginger tom stomped through the Forest.
Schorchfire stepped on a twig, hissing in annoyance. Shaking his paw to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling he kept going, tail twitching with frustration.
Padding between some ferns, he stopped, spotting the other feline. The she cat seemed to be enjoying herself, spending some time away from camp.
He frowned, musing. Scorchfire had no wish to interrupt but somehow he felt sitting and watching was just as bad. Stepping out of his sheltered spot, he cleared his throat, trying to be nonchalant.