Cold Morning

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[atrb=border,0,true][bg=black] Coldstripe purred as he dreamed. He was in the highest trees in ThunderClan, jumping from branch to branch. The prey below had no idea he was there. At any moment, he could jump right down and squash a mouse. He didn't need to hunt though. In his mind, the clan was fed and borders clear of any threat. It was a cool greenleaf night. Another glance down to the forest floor revealed that the rest of the clan was running in the same direction he was- toward Fourtrees. He wanted to get down and run with them, but he was suddenly unable to do as he pleased. Another force was driving him now, taken control of his pawsteps. Soon, Coldstripe found him in the branches of the great oaks. He noticed the old WindClan tree was vibrant and full of life- very strange. With a jolt, Coldstripe realized that his limbs had stopped moving and were gathering beneath him, preparing to leap. As he soared through the air, the dark tom had to trust in StarClan that he would land safely- and he did. He soon felt a cold, hard surface under his pads. He gasped in horror, his orange eyes as round as the full moon above him. He was standing on the Great Rock! Coldstripe jerked awake, his nerves no longer able to cope with the ominous vision. When he realized he was safe in the warriors' den, he purred, amused with himself. Only a dream, nothing more than a story told by his unfocused thoughts. He twitched his whiskers before jumping out into the frozen air. Leaf-bare had decided to go out with one last warning, promising to return. Once his eyes got used to the bright snow, the warrior yawned and stretched out his front legs, arching his tail over his back. With one eye, he looked over toward the freshkill pile. He hadn't eaten yet and nothing was better than frozen thrush. He twitched his tail in anticipation. No one would want these cold scraps and he needed to keep his energy up if he was going to go hunting at sunhigh. He stood up and padded over to the scattered group of carcasses, eyes sparkling as he caught a glimpse of feathers in their midst. Word Count: 381 Audience: Any! Comments: None

[{Otter}]

A wonderful season, leafbare was. Thick muscles allowed for good insulation from the cold, and the cold meant more tension. Tension meant more arguments. Arguments led to border scraps. And border scraps? They were what he lived for.

Even so, it was difficult to awaken on a cold, leafbare day. The massive black and white warrior rose stiffly from the center of the warrior's den, reluctantly leaving the warm bodies of his fellow warriors and comrades, and made his way slowly out into the bitterly cold leafbare air. A sigh left his lips as he gazed at the frozen world around him. Leafbare was supposed to be leaving by now, and yet here it was...cold, snowy, and terribly hard on one's joints. Whatever. Leafbare is as leafbare does, he thought dismissively, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped out across the frozen grass. It took no time at all for his amber gaze to seek out the black form of his one and only son, Coldstripe, and a purr rumbled from his throat as if on instinct.

Now Coldstripe was a warrior. A true warrior. In his day, Blacktail had been an unstoppable force of nature, but either by fatherly pride or simple truth, he always had pictured his son as better. Coldstripe had survived a leafbare he never should have survived. Perhaps it was that treacherous Stonetooth's training that had made him strong. Whatever it was, Blacktail knew that, if true peace came and there were no more battles to look forward to, Coldstripe would be the only one keeping him from joining StarClan. Why Coldstripe was not deputy instead of the scrawny little Vixenfang, he had never been able to comprehend.

"Coldstripe," he purred, moving his huge bulk into a trot as he headed towards his son and the freshkill pile. A small bird appeared clearly from the pile, and Blacktail's belly rumbled hungrily, but he held himself back. He hadn't hunted in days, so why did he have any right to eat from the freshkill pile?

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[atrb=border,0,true][bg=black] A cool wind battered Coldstripe's pelt as he leaned his head down to pick up the starling. He fluffed up his fur against the cold and turned toward his favorite eating place- a sheltered area near the nursery. He loved the warm milk scents the rose into his nostrils along with the aroma of food. One could say it was a little patch of StarClan, that hidden area. "Coldstripe," came a familiar purr. The warrior returned it and let his eyes drift to the direction it had come from. Blacktail. Senior warrior. Father. He smiled as best he could around the bird in his mouth and let his eyes do the rest. They sparkled with the soft tones of a leafbare morning as he made his way toward the black-and-white tom. This is how it went almost every day. If it wasn't Blacktail, it was Redbird. Sometimes even all three of them would stalk off together in the morning and share a meal, share tongues, and offer to go out on a patrol. They were an unstoppable trio and their bond was as thick as blood itself. Coldstripe purred once more and rubbed his head along his father's flank, silently inviting him to share his meal. They would go hunting later unless Elkstar decided to break them up, which didn't often happen unless someone had to stay behind to guard the camp. And StarClan forbid one of them ever got stuck with another apprentice! Their whole day would be scrambled trying to find time to share words between barking off demands at the youngest member of the group. Until then, however, all was quiet. They'd gotten up early enough that Coldstripe was certain they'd have plenty of time to eat before the other cats woke up. With a flick of his tail, he motioned Blacktail to follow him to their favorite eating place, being careful not to wake the kits and queens. Word Count: 322 Audience: Blacktail/Any! Comments: None

[{Otter}]

Though laden with clouds of leafbare, the sky lit up dimly with the golden hue of the rising sun, and Blacktail raised his face to watch it for a brief moment. It had been a long time since they'd seen the sky...something that made him sad every leafbare. Desirable as leafbare and the arguments that went with it was, Blacktail couldn't deny that he would be glad to see the end to all these clouds. What cat didn't want to be able to see Silverpelt at night, or watch the sunrise and sunset, the true, full sunrise and sunset, with his son? Only a crazy cat, he decided.

A purr rumbled loudly from the old warrior's throat as he followed his son to the edge of camp, near to the Nursery so that, were the kits awake, one could hear the little mewls and pattering of tiny paws as the young kits play-fought and, all in all, drove their mothers crazy. Blacktail's tail curled with pleasure as his gaze fell upon the Nursery, and memories flooded his mind.

Memories of his mate, Cloudpelt, and her brilliant smile and way with words. Ever since the first time they met, Cloudpelt and challenged Blacktail's arrogant personality and begun his change. Then again, his true c hange had come about when Coldkit was born. Shifting his amber gaze to his son, Blacktail couldn't now understand how he could have been so worried for the black warrior's survival, but he could never forget the fear and worry that had wracked his body all through that leafbare, hoping, praying to StarClan that his son would survive.

And, by StarClan's will, here Coldstripe stood. A cold blast of wind knocked Blacktail from his reverie, and he shook his head roughly and flicked his tail over Coldstripe's black ears. Where ever did this sentimental old tomcat come from? he thought of himself, shaking his head in a musement. Oh, Cloudpelt...what would you say if you could see me now? I bet you wouldn't even be able to recognize the cat I once was.

Blacktail lowered himself to a crouching position beside Coldstripe, waiting for the warrior to take the first bite. A small feeling of guilt wracked the senior warrior's body, and he glanced away from the thrush. He'd never been gifted with hunting, and never would he deny that he would often not hunt at all for the Clan before eating. Partly from true handicap, and partly from being lazy.

To take his mind from the topic, Blacktail leaned over and began to brush his rough tongue over Coldstripe's ear, tail flicking happily as he did so. For a cat who loved to fight as much as he, it sure didn't make sense for Blacktail to enjoy something so much, but, well..he didn't much care about what "made sense". "I'm sure as heck ready for leafbare to be over," he commented between licks. "You know how much I love all the fights that come with leafbare, but...there have been none! Virtually none, anyway. It's disappointing, really."

Word Count;; 505
Muse;; decent
Notes;; sorry, not such a great post.

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[atrb=border,0,true][bg=black] Coldstripe purred as his ear was being groomed. The rough rhythm was almost enough to put him back to sleep. If only his father could shut his jaw. "I'm sure as heck ready for leafbare to be over. You know how much I love all the fights that come with leafbare, but...there have been none! Virtually none, anyway. It's disappointing, really." "Perhaps they've finally figured out that more fighting only leads to hungrier bellies," the younger tom suggested when he raised his mouth away from the bird. He took a few more bites before nosing the freshkill toward Blacktail. He only needed enough to keep his energy up while on patrol. When he got back, the pile would have hopefully more than doubled thanks to the warriors' efforts. "And you're just mad because you don't get to show off your skills," he teased. The younger warrior began grooming his father's shoulder, tracing a few old scars as he listened to either Blacktail's voice or the sound of crunching bones. Most likely his voice. Blacktail hardly ever let anyone best him at teasing. "I can't wait until they throw you into the elders' den," he growled playfully, "I'd love watching you swatting apprentices as they're checking you for ticks." He cringed at any retort or cuff that his father might give him. That was quite a brutal comment that he'd given him and he knew Blacktail wouldn't let anyone talk about his age. Coldstripe could almost bet that the thought of being exiled from further battled would be pure torture to the fighter. Word Count: 262 Audience: Blacktail/Any! Comments: None

[{Otter}]

"Perhaps they've finally figured out that more fighting only leads to hungrier bellies."

A snort came forth from Blacktail's nose. Glancing down at his bulky muscles, he mewed, "The day that happens is the day I catch a rabbit." Coldstripe nudged the thrush towards him, but Blacktail pointedly ignored it. Good StarClan, was his son trying to make him admit that he hadn't hunted in awhile? Well then, Coldstripe could push all he wanted, but Blacktail wasn't going to eat until he caught something for the Clan.

Instead, the senior warrior closed his eyes as a rough tongue rasped over his shoulders. To Coldstripe's words he snorted, "You should have seen me in my day." Opening one eye, he glanced at his black-pelted son and added, "I coulda whupped four of you. Easy." Possibly the truth, but not really a serious comment. What father enjoyed the thought of any cat, even the father himself, being able to beat them? Not Blacktail.

"I can't wait until they throw you into the elders' den. I'd love watching you swatting apprentices as they're checking you for ticks."

In reality, Blacktail wasn't sure whether he should claw his son's ears off or let it go. Did he want to become an elder? Well, no, not particularly. He enjoyed fighting too much...enjoyed the rush of battle rage and the feeling of life and power. But neither did he fear becoming an elder. There would come a time, his down-to-earth mind knew, when he would not be able to hold his own in a battle. When that time came, well...he'd go to the elder's den and speak of his great battle deeds to the kits and young apprentices.

"You better watch those words, or you'll need to start watching your ears," he grumbled finally in response, stretching his forepaws out before him and resting his head on them. His voice betrayed neither eagerness nor sorrow. Just...understanding. Cold facts. "Every cat goes to the elder den sometime...unless they die before. Take it from me, Coldstripe--fight each of your battles as if they were your last. At least then you'll have stories to tell to the kits." He realized then that he'd gotten a bit morbid, and Blacktail forced himself to sit up and turn to groom Coldstripe's back. "Eat the rest of your thrush. We're going patrolling soon," he mewed between licks, tail curling at the thought. It sure was great to be a senior warrior...much better than being a younger warrior. Senior warriors got to make rules, order younger cats about. It was almost as good as being a deputy.

Word Count;; 417
Muse;; decent
Audience;; Coldstripe/anyone
Notes;; is this supposed to be before Vixenfang has left the Clan? If it isn't, if it's after the Gathering, then maybe Stormheart could pop in sometime to let Coldstripe know that he's the new leader and all.

[Deleted]

[atrb=border,0,true][bg=black] "The day that happens is the day I catch a rabbit." Coldstripe grinned. There was no way his dad would ever catch a hare. The only possible way was if the rabbit was sick or gravely injured. The younger warrior shook his head. Poor old geezer. He was too good on the battlefield and not good enough in the hunt. Still, he served his clan well. "You should have seen me in my day. I coulda whupped four of you. Easy." "Four of me?" Coldstripe looked up, bewildered, "StarClan forbid! The clan would go crazy!" He lowered his head as a chorus of tiny mewls sounded from the nursery. He'd woken the kits. The whole clan would be up any moment now. "You better watch those words, or you'll need to start watching your ears." The warrior folded his ears, not for protection, but from the tone of his father's voice. The playfulness had vanished. He hadn't meant to drive the old tom into a depressed state. He would rather he'd cuffed him on the ears. Seeing his father brood was not something he enjoyed watching. "Every cat goes to the elder den sometime...unless they die before. Take it from me, Coldstripe--fight each of your battles as if they were your last. At least then you'll have stories to tell to the kits." Coldstripe nodded, not really wanting to reply to such a statement. He'd rather live in the moment. Besides, if he fought his battles as if he wouldn't survive them, how many lives would be in jeopardy? A good warrior doesn't need to kill to win a battle. "Eat the rest of your thrush. We're going patrolling soon." "Yes, Blacktail..." Word Count: 283 Audience: Blacktail/Any! Comments: Nah- I just figured that Coldstripe ought to have a little thread before he becomes leader. I'll make a new thread for Stormheart's vision and have everyone going about the day waiting for Coldstripe to name a deputy and go to Highstones. I don't want to start it until I know what happened to Elkheart. After all, wasn't it because Brokenstar was still alive that Nightstar never got his nine lives? Notes: Actually, I think that's a good thread stopper, unless you'd like to continue?