Post by Falconstone on Aug 30, 2016 15:20:02 GMT -6
DON'T DREAM IT'S OVER
A little ways away from the main Riverclan camp, a small stream flowed shallowly over a rocky bed, pebbles and stones washed smooth and shiny by the babbling current. Along the near bank was a little cove where the water flowed in to form a pool in which minnows darted back and forth, their silver bellies flashing in the sunlight. On the pebbly bank sat a large fluffy cat, leaning back as he smoothed his tongue and forepaws purposefully over the ruff of fur about his chest and neck in short, brisk strokes, grooming away the errant burrs that had lodged themselves there.
This fairly secluded area was Falconstone's favourite place to come in the mid-mornings right after the early patrol, when the sun had started to warm up the stones on the banks. The little pool was good for getting his daily fishing quota filled, and the stream that flowed into and out of it was always convenient for the occasional bigger fish, if the clan was in need of more. He had caught a few river trout the past moon, and once even a long, slippery eel. However, though he was often eager to slip into the refreshing waters, today Falconstone lingered on the bank, for there was something on his mind.
It had been long enough since the Great March that the clans were definitely on the upswing again. And with greenleaf upon them, prey was abundant, which definitely made their efforts to rebuild easier. But as he worked hard to assist Riverclan's revival in every way he could, Falconstone couldn't help but wonder where the exiled cats had marched to - or perhaps more importantly, where his mother's bones lay. In their tragic states even as they had tottered and struggled to leave the camp the exiles couldn't have gotten so far, and yet on the patrols and excursions in the moons that came after, he had not come across any sign of where they had made their final resting places.
He wondered, not for the first time, if his mother had been welcomed into Starclan to be finally reunited with his father, the one she had loved so mightily. She had not died a warrior's death, and though Falconstone knew his mother had been an exemplary apprentice and warrior in her youth, she had been weak for so long that he worried she might not have done enough to be considered worthy. Now that she was gone, there was nothing left for Falconstone to do but hope she had made it, and perhaps look out for her shape in the stars at night.
But enough of that. The sun was rising higher in the sky, and Falconstone had fish to catch. Shaking his ruff out to cast such melancholy thoughts from his mind, Falconstone slipped into the pool with surprising grace for one so lumbering and large, as if the water was granting him some of the agility of the fish that lived within it. His large paws flaring like paddles, he pushed strongly toward the silver flash of a minnow, surfacing moments later with a fish in his jaws. At least fishing always soothed his worries.
This fairly secluded area was Falconstone's favourite place to come in the mid-mornings right after the early patrol, when the sun had started to warm up the stones on the banks. The little pool was good for getting his daily fishing quota filled, and the stream that flowed into and out of it was always convenient for the occasional bigger fish, if the clan was in need of more. He had caught a few river trout the past moon, and once even a long, slippery eel. However, though he was often eager to slip into the refreshing waters, today Falconstone lingered on the bank, for there was something on his mind.
It had been long enough since the Great March that the clans were definitely on the upswing again. And with greenleaf upon them, prey was abundant, which definitely made their efforts to rebuild easier. But as he worked hard to assist Riverclan's revival in every way he could, Falconstone couldn't help but wonder where the exiled cats had marched to - or perhaps more importantly, where his mother's bones lay. In their tragic states even as they had tottered and struggled to leave the camp the exiles couldn't have gotten so far, and yet on the patrols and excursions in the moons that came after, he had not come across any sign of where they had made their final resting places.
He wondered, not for the first time, if his mother had been welcomed into Starclan to be finally reunited with his father, the one she had loved so mightily. She had not died a warrior's death, and though Falconstone knew his mother had been an exemplary apprentice and warrior in her youth, she had been weak for so long that he worried she might not have done enough to be considered worthy. Now that she was gone, there was nothing left for Falconstone to do but hope she had made it, and perhaps look out for her shape in the stars at night.
But enough of that. The sun was rising higher in the sky, and Falconstone had fish to catch. Shaking his ruff out to cast such melancholy thoughts from his mind, Falconstone slipped into the pool with surprising grace for one so lumbering and large, as if the water was granting him some of the agility of the fish that lived within it. His large paws flaring like paddles, he pushed strongly toward the silver flash of a minnow, surfacing moments later with a fish in his jaws. At least fishing always soothed his worries.
531 | @open! | Wow Falconstone isn't supposed to be this mopey idk where this came from, sorry LOL
ulla
