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Post by Jaystar ♫ on Aug 9, 2008 5:43:50 GMT -5
The sound of birds was too noisy.
Clan life disgusted the rogue tom, as much as it did to other rogues. Letting out a hiss of distaste, Flare reminded himself what he was really here for. Swiping his tongue around his lips, he spotted the fresh-kill pile, towered high with caught prey.
And not crowfood... Flare thought with pleasure, smiling evily.
Flare was hiding behind some long, grass, his pelt battered by the wind. Luckily he was downwind to the camp, so the cats of WindClan wouldn't smell his approach. The ginger tom's golden eyes searched the clearing. It was sunhigh - as the clans called it - the hottest time of day. Only a few lazy clanners spread out and cleaned eachother on the outskirts of camp. Spotting his chance, Flare leapt out of the grass and pelted to the fresh-kill pile. |
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