Post by ♥-Ko- on May 31, 2009 13:23:47 GMT -5
Cold, bright blue. Blue was the colour of everything today; pale frost glistened on the grass and the tree limbs, deep blue was the colour of the rushing stream that passed him by.
As GhostPelt padded softly through the undergrowth in IceClan's camp, he hummed quietly to himself. He was thinking; and when he did so, a tell-tale sign was always the strange, tuneless melodies that escaped his silver - encompassed maw. Even for a frozen, cold place, it was beautiful. Frozen droplets of water, dead in their struggle to fall to earth, covered the bushes and moss. Mist, so like smoke in the early morning harshness, rose from GhostPelt's muzzle, and his blue eyes closed in contentment. Everything was blanketed under the light cover of snow, and the silvery tom left small pawprints in it. He'd never seen so much of the powdery white stuff; sure, he was used to some, but this much? He laughed out loud, and his laugh was young, and almost rueful. The sun was covered by the mist today; and he liked it. He felt safe under the cover of the fog; like one of his mighty leopard ancestors. It was so great - he felt regal, like a king. He could hear mise, hedgehogs, ferrets, all scurrying around him; probably looking for food to feed their young. It saddened GhostPelt slightly that he no longer had any need for food; but not that much. He could do without the constant worry to provide; he remembered the clan's old struggles for food - for the kits, the warriors, the elders. Now, there was none of that to worry about, and for that, he was glad.
Shivering slightly (but this was in anticipation, not in coldness), GhostPelt stopped by the frozen lake, and closed his eyes.
As GhostPelt padded softly through the undergrowth in IceClan's camp, he hummed quietly to himself. He was thinking; and when he did so, a tell-tale sign was always the strange, tuneless melodies that escaped his silver - encompassed maw. Even for a frozen, cold place, it was beautiful. Frozen droplets of water, dead in their struggle to fall to earth, covered the bushes and moss. Mist, so like smoke in the early morning harshness, rose from GhostPelt's muzzle, and his blue eyes closed in contentment. Everything was blanketed under the light cover of snow, and the silvery tom left small pawprints in it. He'd never seen so much of the powdery white stuff; sure, he was used to some, but this much? He laughed out loud, and his laugh was young, and almost rueful. The sun was covered by the mist today; and he liked it. He felt safe under the cover of the fog; like one of his mighty leopard ancestors. It was so great - he felt regal, like a king. He could hear mise, hedgehogs, ferrets, all scurrying around him; probably looking for food to feed their young. It saddened GhostPelt slightly that he no longer had any need for food; but not that much. He could do without the constant worry to provide; he remembered the clan's old struggles for food - for the kits, the warriors, the elders. Now, there was none of that to worry about, and for that, he was glad.
Shivering slightly (but this was in anticipation, not in coldness), GhostPelt stopped by the frozen lake, and closed his eyes.
