Post by blade on Jun 7, 2008 0:32:07 GMT -5
Oatwhisker was a elder. All he ever wanted was a guaranteed piece of fresh-kill, sunshine, and a palace to warm his thin tabby pelt. He sighed longingly, hoping a young apprentice had caught an early rabbit for his breakfast. “Good morning Oatwhisker!'”, a glamorous silver tabby mewed. “Morn'in Twirl!”, he grunted, being a feline of few words. “couldn't sleep?”, she meowed sympathetically. “It was nothing”, he mewed airily , avoiding her penetrating azure orbs. Of course, he was lying through his teeth, something he never before believed he would ever do. He shivered involuntarily, vividly remembering the icy touch of the spectral mist. Twirl was watching him closely, too closely. “perhaps you should go hunting?”, she suggested. Oatwhisker readily agreed. “Okay”, he meowed, not really wanting to hunt, but just to escape the almost hungry look in her crystalline orbs, as if she waned to gut him and feed on his entrails. Feeling uncomfortable, he fled, padding away into the surrounding moors. The tall, golden grasses brushed his pelt. Miniature dewdrops, like sparkling crystals, studded his white whiskers. With a flick of his head, he displaced them, watching as they dropped to the thirsty ground beneath his paws. Contentedness washed over him, sweet as honey, cooling as a drizzle.
Oakwhisker was completely off-guard when a cloud of black dust enveloped him. He tried to flee, but couldn't, his paws firmly rooted to the ground. Closer and closer it came, a funnel cloud of despair, picking up anything that stood in it's way. It could have been Oatwhisker's imagination, but two glowing gray orbs peered in the heart of the cloud. "StarClan help me!", he yowled in terror. Dust, everywhere, in his mouth, eyelids, between his claws and thinning pelt. He tried to breathe, but sucked in more choking dust. By now, he was lost from view to the outside world. He watched in horror as his pelt thickened, feeble muscles thickening, his pelt slowly changing color. Then, he was gone, dust cloud and all, into thin air. The cat that was once Oatwhisker was gone forever.
Oakwhisker was completely off-guard when a cloud of black dust enveloped him. He tried to flee, but couldn't, his paws firmly rooted to the ground. Closer and closer it came, a funnel cloud of despair, picking up anything that stood in it's way. It could have been Oatwhisker's imagination, but two glowing gray orbs peered in the heart of the cloud. "StarClan help me!", he yowled in terror. Dust, everywhere, in his mouth, eyelids, between his claws and thinning pelt. He tried to breathe, but sucked in more choking dust. By now, he was lost from view to the outside world. He watched in horror as his pelt thickened, feeble muscles thickening, his pelt slowly changing color. Then, he was gone, dust cloud and all, into thin air. The cat that was once Oatwhisker was gone forever.