when it's burning low { ♥ } open

[Dotpaw]

A silver licked the edges of shadows, moonlight whitening the tips of fur. The figure whom the silver pelt belonged to paused, narrowing her eyes. Orange-gold eyes locked on that of a rabbit's. The creature froze, it's long, brown ears perked. It hadn't expected predators to be out at night. After a brief moment, it turned to run, but the female feline was on it in a second, her muscles taught and rippling beneath her long-furred, pale, medium-length gray–silver pelt.

It wasn't long before the limp creature was locked firmly between Petræ's jaws. She trotted gracefully back to the barn, her head held high. Movement distracted her, and she narrowed her orange eyes once more. The figure revealed itself as another tribe member. She rolled her eyes, careful to make sure the other feline wouldn't see. " Yes? "

[Thusula]

Thusula was busy tending to his garden of herbs, giving silent remedies to his beloved plants so that they would grow and flourish properly. Winter was approaching, moons away, and as a Shaman of the Winter, he had to be prepared. Winter was the season of death, and the bitter cold, and many of the Tribe would have to seek his aid at such a time.

"One day, one day my children. You will be big and strong, and able to feed the Tribe." he mumbled to a clove of thyme. He was about to water the herbs by patting his wet moss onto the dirt, only to hear the call of another.

Turning his head around, the Scottish Fold hardly looked around to see who it was. His eyes were failing, so there was really nothing he could detect at the moment. A cat had to be prepared for anything though. What if it was some rogue who wanted to destroy his garden?

"Whoever you are, show yourself."