Post by The Everlasting SUNNEH. on Jun 10, 2006 11:53:30 GMT -5
Soft feet padded the hard earth, easily walking on the marshy ground. Above, the Night sky was clear, giving a wonderful view of the stars and heavens above. The cat on the earth though, gave no notice to the gleaming finale of the heavens, as he pondered, focusing down on the kill. Only one word rang through his head, as he strolled through Shadowclan Territory. Marley.
Bloodpelt had been walking for a long time now, treading through the terra silently. Marley was a loner heart, and had been attacked by Two-legs, the dreaded and feared hunters of the land. Some were thick, plain stupid, and would jeer and chant awful and odd phrases in an unknown code. They walked on two-legs, instead of four, and wore coats that were removable. These beasts were beyond this earth. Their stupidity cost many a feline life, and Bloodpelt knew that this was a victim of Two-legs that he had to kill.
Marley was wounded, and had only the slightest chance of living. Had that love-struck medicine spit not been there, this job would have been done for him. But no. Marley had to die, before any other cat of Nightclan or Shadowclan found out Marley’s secret. What was Marley’s secret you ask?
Marley had seen. Marley knew.
Why do you think he was being attacked by the Two-leg? He hadn’t been quiet enough, and the odds worked against him. Marley was overhearing Bloodpelt murmuring about the plans Nightclan had to overrule the forest. He then backed up, and cracked a few twigs. Marley was lucky enough that the Two-leg found him, instead of Bloodpelt. Nightclan cats had no pity.
The clouds were gathering in the sky, and the dull gray color foamed the moon over. There was no lightning, to Bloodpelt’s gratitude, but the rain poured down, making his pelt heavy and flat with water. Bloodpelt smirked at first. He could put the kill off, but then he remembered that news may spread. What would Bloodpelt do then? He would be taunted, and he would be killed probably.
“Hmph. Who would be afraid of Bloodpelt? I need something that is more threatening. Something deadly and dangerous.” Bloodpelt mumered, turning back.
“From this moment on, I am Miirah. Miirah of the Night. Miirah of Nightclan. No longer is Thunder my enemy. I fear nothing. Fear me. I am Miirah.” He yowled to the skies. This world may be against him, and no cat is perfect, but he had a chance. Miirah was one now. He was whole.
Bloodpelt had been walking for a long time now, treading through the terra silently. Marley was a loner heart, and had been attacked by Two-legs, the dreaded and feared hunters of the land. Some were thick, plain stupid, and would jeer and chant awful and odd phrases in an unknown code. They walked on two-legs, instead of four, and wore coats that were removable. These beasts were beyond this earth. Their stupidity cost many a feline life, and Bloodpelt knew that this was a victim of Two-legs that he had to kill.
Marley was wounded, and had only the slightest chance of living. Had that love-struck medicine spit not been there, this job would have been done for him. But no. Marley had to die, before any other cat of Nightclan or Shadowclan found out Marley’s secret. What was Marley’s secret you ask?
Marley had seen. Marley knew.
Why do you think he was being attacked by the Two-leg? He hadn’t been quiet enough, and the odds worked against him. Marley was overhearing Bloodpelt murmuring about the plans Nightclan had to overrule the forest. He then backed up, and cracked a few twigs. Marley was lucky enough that the Two-leg found him, instead of Bloodpelt. Nightclan cats had no pity.
The clouds were gathering in the sky, and the dull gray color foamed the moon over. There was no lightning, to Bloodpelt’s gratitude, but the rain poured down, making his pelt heavy and flat with water. Bloodpelt smirked at first. He could put the kill off, but then he remembered that news may spread. What would Bloodpelt do then? He would be taunted, and he would be killed probably.
“Hmph. Who would be afraid of Bloodpelt? I need something that is more threatening. Something deadly and dangerous.” Bloodpelt mumered, turning back.
“From this moment on, I am Miirah. Miirah of the Night. Miirah of Nightclan. No longer is Thunder my enemy. I fear nothing. Fear me. I am Miirah.” He yowled to the skies. This world may be against him, and no cat is perfect, but he had a chance. Miirah was one now. He was whole.
