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Post by mourningdove on Apr 17, 2023 22:49:36 GMT
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| Scorch | Bio Seven Moons | He/Him | Solitary fire moon ~ day 14 ~ early morning |
| The dew had not melted off the grass. It would, though. Quickly, fleeting as a rabbit. It seemed as though every day that passed grew hotter, burning him up as the sun’s path grew higher and higher in the sky and the days grew longer and longer. If he were to wander anytime past early morning, he found the dark patches of his fur became hot like stones or the shining rock-like things he’d find near the old barn, grooved and sharp and hot as flame. He imagined them to be the scales of some unimaginable beast. He stood outside in the little patch of flattened grass made by his coming and going, dreading treading through the wetness that awaited in the taller foliage. With a deep breath, he cast a glance back at Ember. Her chest rose and fell, her breath rasping slightly in her throat. Then he left. As he sulked through the yellowing grass, he could already feel the heat sinking into the air around him, the shafts of early light slowly growing sharper and brighter, bringing the waves of warmth with them. He had discovered, from his own stumbling experiences, that prey was more plentiful in the earliest parts of the day. They, too, feared the heat, he supposed. Scorch had a routine he followed very strictly. Every morning, before the sun had even risen, he would leave the little hollow under the brambles and set out into a forest of dewy grass. He would hunt as he went along, catching what he came across. When he was lucky, he caught a mouse, or a few frogs moist with dew, or one of the little green snakes that slithered about hunting like he was. After that, he’d forage, usually around the same areas. And then, as darkness began to fall, and the sky lit up in bright reds and oranges, he’d make the trek back to the old barn where he would find Ember waiting for him. They would talk and he would tell her everything he saw and did that day. After that, he’d give her the herbs he had collected, and they would stargaze for a while, and finally, the two of them would curl up and fall asleep. Unfortunately, the heat had come on too quickly. The prey had already sought shelter, and Scorch found nothing to satiate his hunger. What he did find, though, was a sweet scent that coiled over the moors and settled on his fur. He paused, placing it with excitement. The lush, tempting scent of catnip had just graced his nostrils. It was a scent he had only really experienced as a kit, and then, it was stale and dried and useless. He remembered, vaguely, his mother mentioning that it was good for coughs. Or maybe it was restlessness? Nervousness? Settling stomachs? He didn’t really remember, but he remembered it was helpful, and his chest swelled with delight. He started to bound in that direction when another scent drifted past his nose. This, he realized with a start, was the smell of other cats. He froze, pressing himself against the ground and sniffing the air, determining whether or not the scent was fresh, or whether it was the residual odor of cats who had long since passed through.
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Post by Kaeldra on Jun 17, 2023 5:18:17 GMT
Clementine || she/her || 29 moons Greenleaf was well and truly here.
The days were long and hot, and Clementine had taken to venturing out into the moors at night, when the temperatures dropped and it was easier to stay out of the punishing rays of the sun. She enjoyed a good sunbathing session as much as any cat, but after a certain point she began to worry about melting into a puddle, never to move again.
Unfortunately, with the sunlight hours so long, it left little nighttime for her to skulk about. She tried to return to the barn before the sun had fully risen, holding on to the coolness of the shade as long as she could in order to fall asleep before the heat really took hold. But sometimes the moors and surrounding area just proved too interesting; now that Roots had gone back to their family, she found herself straying further and further, sometimes even going as far as the forest and the marshes and spending a few days out that way while she explored.
Today had been one such day. She had gone and lurked off and on by the river for a few days, watching with amusement as various groups of cats adhering to some rigid schedule came about like clockwork. They seemed more stressed than any cat really had any reason to be; the silver tabby queen who appeared to be their leader reminded Clementine particularly strongly of her own parents, always caught up in problems of their own making.
Eventually Clementine had decided to return to the barn, not keen for her entertainment to notice her presence. Now she was nearly there, and as she approached she thought she could make out a shape crouched off to the side of the barn, closer to the nest where the housefolk stayed.
Now what are they up to? I don’t think I’ve seen them around here before.
Despite the fatigue beginning to drag at her paws -- she’d been up since just after sunhigh the previous day, the heat having woken her -- she found herself padding over quietly. She took care to place her paws gently, almost soundlessly, though it was clear the stranger had caught her scent, frozen in place and trying to pinpoint her position.
Once she was a few tail lengths away, she spoke.
“Hello, there.”
ulla
mourningdove
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Post by mourningdove on Jul 22, 2023 17:46:04 GMT
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| Scorch | Bio Seven Moons | He/Him | Solitary fire moon ~ day 14 ~ early morning |
| Scorch was well versed in the smells of plants and herbs, but the scent of outsiders wasn't something he had much experience with. By the time Scorch had caught a good whiff of the scent, its source was upon him with remarkable stealth. "Hello there." He startled, his pelt bristling as he spun around to look at the much larger she-cat. She was older, more experienced- he couldn't help the first thought that ran through his head: if they got into a fight, she'd come out on top. It took Scorch a few moments to see the signs. Her intentions were peaceful, at least for now. Her long fur lay still and flat, lifted only by the breeze, and her expression was placid and relaxed, if not a bit curious. Scorch still pressed into himself. She was an outsider, and from his experience, rogues and loners would pick on cats who couldn't fend for themselves. "What do you want?" He cringed at his own words. That wasn't what he wanted to say. "I, I mean, I'm sorry. I meant, hello." As he spoke his eyes darted back towards the scent he had been tracking - his real goal. As far as he was concerned, he wanted to get out of this situation as fast as possible.
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