Post by Night on Jan 27, 2008 20:37:23 GMT -5
"Do you believe in destiny Owlkit?" the small ginger tabby she looked up at her larger brother with dazzling golden yellow eyes. Her head was tilted to the side as she looked upon her tabby brother. He was her hero and she'd follow him to the end of the world and back. They'd promised to always be there for each other and she knew he wouldn't break that promise. Petalkit believed that her brother was going to be the best warrior in the whole clan. He was kind and loyal and calm in all situations. In her eyes he was the perfect cat in all aspects. Now the larger tabby looked down at her with a smile, his amber eyes twinkling before he said,"Of course silly. Its our destinies to be the best and most fierce warriors that Boneclan and the rest of the clans have ever seen. That's why we're going to go out tomorrow."The smaller shekit grinned at her brother before she said,"Great!! I'm excited and I know that you'll be the best warrior ever!"
That memory haunted Owlpaw more than anything else. It was that memory that brought his paws here, to Foggy Cliff. He sat with his fluffy tail curled over his large paws. Amber eyes were dull and no longer sparkled as he looked out into the mist that now distorted his large and bulky form. No he wasn't just all fur, that wasn't even half of what made up his bulk. With broad shoulders and a deep chest he had all the making of an excellent fighter. His claws curled in a deadly way and his face was always set in a grim frown. No, he wasn't always like this. Once the brown tabby was a kind and smiling tom. That is until his mother and sister died and his father tried to kill him. None of the warriors had wanted to mentor him. In fact he'd jumped around from a few different mentors. Odd thing to happen in any clan. He was looking for a mentor, no... no he wasn't. He didn't want anyone.
He rolled his great shoulders and sent the huge silvery scars on his shoulders glittering in the faint light. Looking at him it looked like he had two wings spread wide against his shoulders. They even looked feathered! Upon closer inspection though one would find that they were just two very gruesome scars. Apprentices at the gatherings had asked him where he'd gotten them from and he'd growled at them and stalked away. Soon a younger.. or older, warrior would tell them that they were from his own father. A deadly warrior of Boneclan who had been sent into rogue exile because he'd tried to kill his only son Owlpaw. Owlpaw hated being asked and he hated others answering for him. In fact right now Owlpaw just plain hated everything and it shown on his face. He was just waiting to be made a warrior and than die. His temper made him very dangerous in any and all battles and so did his stubbourness. No mentor had been able to get a firm paw on him, and he'd sent more than one to the medicine cat's den with gashes and slashes. Now looking out into the mist he wished that it was him who'd died... not Petalkit. Nothing would ever be the same. Everything was wrong. Everything would be wrong. He wanted to be proved wrong. He wanted to see that there was good left in the world... but so far.. nothing had proved that to him. Would it?
That memory haunted Owlpaw more than anything else. It was that memory that brought his paws here, to Foggy Cliff. He sat with his fluffy tail curled over his large paws. Amber eyes were dull and no longer sparkled as he looked out into the mist that now distorted his large and bulky form. No he wasn't just all fur, that wasn't even half of what made up his bulk. With broad shoulders and a deep chest he had all the making of an excellent fighter. His claws curled in a deadly way and his face was always set in a grim frown. No, he wasn't always like this. Once the brown tabby was a kind and smiling tom. That is until his mother and sister died and his father tried to kill him. None of the warriors had wanted to mentor him. In fact he'd jumped around from a few different mentors. Odd thing to happen in any clan. He was looking for a mentor, no... no he wasn't. He didn't want anyone.
He rolled his great shoulders and sent the huge silvery scars on his shoulders glittering in the faint light. Looking at him it looked like he had two wings spread wide against his shoulders. They even looked feathered! Upon closer inspection though one would find that they were just two very gruesome scars. Apprentices at the gatherings had asked him where he'd gotten them from and he'd growled at them and stalked away. Soon a younger.. or older, warrior would tell them that they were from his own father. A deadly warrior of Boneclan who had been sent into rogue exile because he'd tried to kill his only son Owlpaw. Owlpaw hated being asked and he hated others answering for him. In fact right now Owlpaw just plain hated everything and it shown on his face. He was just waiting to be made a warrior and than die. His temper made him very dangerous in any and all battles and so did his stubbourness. No mentor had been able to get a firm paw on him, and he'd sent more than one to the medicine cat's den with gashes and slashes. Now looking out into the mist he wished that it was him who'd died... not Petalkit. Nothing would ever be the same. Everything was wrong. Everything would be wrong. He wanted to be proved wrong. He wanted to see that there was good left in the world... but so far.. nothing had proved that to him. Would it?
