A Bouncing Beginning | Harepaw Intro.

Although it hadn't been raining recently, there was something in the air, an almost distant scent of petrichor that pervaded late leaf-fall, a misty dew floated in the air, the trees hung one last veil of wrinkled walnut leaf over the camp before the land began to solidify and the trees would stand bare, cold and tall, naked in a vast and solid shade of umber, and blanket itself in a pure white, leaf-fall weaves its colour through the trees to an end, draping all in a silent and draining cold that could be considered beautiful.

The feline padded out of the apprentice's den, briefly glancing around he took in what he could of any arrangement going on inside camp, then he lowered his head and stalked over towards a gap between the camp and the woodland. Bird songs floated down from the treetops and mingled with the soft hum of breeze and the whispering of rattled foliage. Flurries of leaf swept over the earth in the light breeze of air. The apprentice took in a long and slow breath, and then he gazed up over towards the gap that windowed towards the woodland, just from here the scent of distant, scurrying, watching, fearing prey brushed Wyvernpaws senses. it would be a good time to go hunting, but instead, Wyvernpaw stood, unmoving, the wind brushed gently at the strands from the tip of his thick tortoishell fur, and he watched. His eyes seemed to reach so far into the forest, he gazed into the vastness, watching. Every leaf that touched the air, every open empty space of nothingness, every scurry or flight of his prey. And then he stopped, and he turned, and strolled off once again.

Wyvernpaw's paws pressed onto the beaten ground. Beneath pink pads were the footsteps of countless over-cats of the camp. So many had walked here that it left its mark in the earth below, that where veiled in a blanket of crisp dried leaf. The tomcat strolled at a steady, even, slow movement, unthinking, un-anything. He was not doing anything at all really. He moved with long strides, his eyes steady upon the ground, his head dipped. He moved as though he was deep in thought, planning and mapping of his mind, terraining and calculating. but in fact, he wasn't doing anything.

If you did not know this cat, where he came from, who he was, his rank in the clan. It would be a complete shock for him to ever be taken as an apprentice, although he was, he had lost the spark for it so many moons ago. Nobody knew him anymore, nobody remembers him as he was; bold, outgoing and admired. As a matter of fact, many of his den-mates never really knew him at all. Wyvernpaw wandered his own world, disturbed and shaken and isolated by his own loneliness. Nobody wanted to know him.

Suddenly, as the few words hit Wyvernpaw in his mind, a sudden presence ahead of him blinked him back into reality, he paced a paw-step further and paused, the clan-cats paws hovered over his gaze on the ground. He took a few pawsteps back fron the tom and slowly gazed up, he gazed blankly, Harepaw.
Harepaw was a younger apprentice, Wyvernpaw had hit his 16th moon, and was awaiting warrior ceremony, Wyvernpaw's gaze softened for a moment, Gentlesprout. The tom quickly juddered the thought away from his mind, his eyes glazed over again, and he glanced downwards. Wyvern shook away the feeling of heaviness and numbly lifted a forepaw, he manoeuvred his body to the side and was beginning to make his way around Harepaw.