Post by chesshire -- ♥ on Nov 10, 2010 6:49:14 GMT -5
Sparkpaw had not expected the weather to be so nice. It was strange, actually. So many mornings he had 'woken up' to the howling wind, snow, or the occasional blizzard. Or rain. He hated the rain. Cold, and relentless. Sparkpaw opened one eye at a time, looking fairly dazed for a few moments. It was early. Very early. But this did not bother Sparkpaw, no no. He hardly ever slept. He just made everyone think he was asleep. Not that difficult, seeing as though Sparkpaw wasn't as chatty as the others. Usually, he only spoke when spoken to. But he watched. And listened. He knew almost everything about them, for someone who hardly talked to them.
Copperpaw could be quite amusing in his actions. Always so polite. Nightpaw stayed away from everyone else, like himself. And Honeypaw. There was just, something about her. He couldn't put his paw on it, not yet, at least. She seemed happy, and most of her clan mates though her annoying. True, she could yap on all night, but couldn't she did have a different side? Didn't everybody? Sparkpaw himself could be cheerful, some days. So didn't that mean Honeypaw could be quiet, and wise one day, to? Maybe. Maybe not.
Shaking his thoughts, Sparkpaw rose. His dusty, light brown tabby pelt was ruffled from his nest, but he carefully pricked his way around everyone, nearly missing Crowpaw's tail in an attempt to weasel around Russetpaw. Sparkpaw let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and pushed his way out of the den. It was still dark outside. The moon was descending, and the sun had not even begun to rise. Sparkpaw glanced around, the camp was shadowy, and dark. Forbidding, in some way. Sparkpaw sat himself down, a few steps away from the den. He looked up. The sky really was amazing. Stars twinkled dimly, as if saying goodnight in their own little way. Was that Starclan, up there?
Sparkpaw found he didn't have an answer to that question. He was not clan-born, like most others. He came from somewhere, very far south. He could member huge trees made of a shiny stone, and cold rock under his feet. He could also remember the crow-food. Disgusting. He couldn't believe he actually ate that stuff. Sparkpaw allowed himself a shudder. But, after his father died, Sparkpaw was take by his sister, mangy flea-bag, north. She was scary at that time. Blank. No feelings if he came to her with a cut down his throat. That's why Sparkpaw ran away from her. And he found his home. Here.
Sparkpaw stiffened suddenly. Something crossed his mind. He wasn't all that talkative, but surly someone would've made friends with him by now. Is it the fact that I'm not clan born?
Or do they not trust me?
Copperpaw could be quite amusing in his actions. Always so polite. Nightpaw stayed away from everyone else, like himself. And Honeypaw. There was just, something about her. He couldn't put his paw on it, not yet, at least. She seemed happy, and most of her clan mates though her annoying. True, she could yap on all night, but couldn't she did have a different side? Didn't everybody? Sparkpaw himself could be cheerful, some days. So didn't that mean Honeypaw could be quiet, and wise one day, to? Maybe. Maybe not.
Shaking his thoughts, Sparkpaw rose. His dusty, light brown tabby pelt was ruffled from his nest, but he carefully pricked his way around everyone, nearly missing Crowpaw's tail in an attempt to weasel around Russetpaw. Sparkpaw let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and pushed his way out of the den. It was still dark outside. The moon was descending, and the sun had not even begun to rise. Sparkpaw glanced around, the camp was shadowy, and dark. Forbidding, in some way. Sparkpaw sat himself down, a few steps away from the den. He looked up. The sky really was amazing. Stars twinkled dimly, as if saying goodnight in their own little way. Was that Starclan, up there?
Sparkpaw found he didn't have an answer to that question. He was not clan-born, like most others. He came from somewhere, very far south. He could member huge trees made of a shiny stone, and cold rock under his feet. He could also remember the crow-food. Disgusting. He couldn't believe he actually ate that stuff. Sparkpaw allowed himself a shudder. But, after his father died, Sparkpaw was take by his sister, mangy flea-bag, north. She was scary at that time. Blank. No feelings if he came to her with a cut down his throat. That's why Sparkpaw ran away from her. And he found his home. Here.
Sparkpaw stiffened suddenly. Something crossed his mind. He wasn't all that talkative, but surly someone would've made friends with him by now. Is it the fact that I'm not clan born?
Or do they not trust me?