Post by Blackie on Jan 10, 2009 9:45:11 GMT -5
The wind rushed onto the plain, making the dry snow skitter across it's own frozen surface. A cloud of white lifted with the breeze and danced around the snowy plain up a rise were a young cat stood. He watched the tallest grass strands shiver in their places where they poked through the ice. His blue eyes pierced the scene. At first glance, the gray and white cat appeared angry. His scowl was enough to scare the WinClan kits back into their den, but Flurrypaw was just thinking. Thinking very hard.
The black starburst above his right eye looked like a nasty bruise with his dark expression. Flurrypaw was often chased into this sort of attitude, but this time it was because of a strange desire. He didn't know why, but he longed for wetness. He wanted to know what chilly water felt like against his fur; what it was like to have mud squelch beneath your paws. What sort of sound did the reeds make when the wind came through? Was it like the dry sound of grass, or was it musical like Flurrypaw imagined? This was what was frustrating the apprentice. This insane want.
He wanted to be by the river.
It was disloyal to want the river like this, wasn't it? But he wanted it so bad that sometimes he started to think about it unconsciously. But why should he long for it? WindClan was his home, RiverClan had nothing for him. He was a born WindClan cat, a warrior of the plains. Yes, he was a bit thicker limbed than most of his Clanmates, but that didn't keep him from being a natural runner! He could run as fast as any one of them, much faster than a silly RiverClan cat who spent there time swimming in pond scum. But still . . .
He wanted the river, and he wanted it so bad that it hurt. He had tried to keep away from it in an attempt to quench the wanting, but it was no use. Something was calling him from there and he longed to answer. But he wouldn't. He never would.
He turned to leave, planning to head back to camp. He needed to do something to distract him. But as he padded away, an urgent whisper made him jump and whip around. There was nothing there. Just the longing of the river. Baring his teeth, Flurrypaw snarled at the whispers.
"Leave me alone!" he yowled, but the wind carried his voice away. The whispers stayed. Hissing in anger, Flurrypaw whipped around again. He was ready to leave. Ready to leave the river-wanting. He never wanted to see the river. Never.
But what a great lie that was.
The black starburst above his right eye looked like a nasty bruise with his dark expression. Flurrypaw was often chased into this sort of attitude, but this time it was because of a strange desire. He didn't know why, but he longed for wetness. He wanted to know what chilly water felt like against his fur; what it was like to have mud squelch beneath your paws. What sort of sound did the reeds make when the wind came through? Was it like the dry sound of grass, or was it musical like Flurrypaw imagined? This was what was frustrating the apprentice. This insane want.
He wanted to be by the river.
It was disloyal to want the river like this, wasn't it? But he wanted it so bad that sometimes he started to think about it unconsciously. But why should he long for it? WindClan was his home, RiverClan had nothing for him. He was a born WindClan cat, a warrior of the plains. Yes, he was a bit thicker limbed than most of his Clanmates, but that didn't keep him from being a natural runner! He could run as fast as any one of them, much faster than a silly RiverClan cat who spent there time swimming in pond scum. But still . . .
He wanted the river, and he wanted it so bad that it hurt. He had tried to keep away from it in an attempt to quench the wanting, but it was no use. Something was calling him from there and he longed to answer. But he wouldn't. He never would.
He turned to leave, planning to head back to camp. He needed to do something to distract him. But as he padded away, an urgent whisper made him jump and whip around. There was nothing there. Just the longing of the river. Baring his teeth, Flurrypaw snarled at the whispers.
"Leave me alone!" he yowled, but the wind carried his voice away. The whispers stayed. Hissing in anger, Flurrypaw whipped around again. He was ready to leave. Ready to leave the river-wanting. He never wanted to see the river. Never.
But what a great lie that was.
