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Post by Deleted on Nov 18, 2015 5:18:00 GMT -6
It was dark and silent in the den when Cinnamonpaw woke with a start. His pelt was half-fluffed and he was clearly upset about something, despite the dream already fading from his memory. He frowned, trying to remember what sort of nightmare would've spooked him like that, but it was impossible. The young apprentice sighed and sat up to groom his fur flat.
After a moment, he looked up abruptly, having gotten the feeling that someone was watching him. "Anyone awake?" he murmured quietly to the den.
(this is mostly for Cedarkit/Whitepaw/other friends of cinnamon, but message me if you want to join otherwise! thread title basically inspired by this song since I keep replaying it.) |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 18, 2015 16:19:13 GMT -6
The young apprentice awoke suddenly, worried eyes flickering open and scanning the shadowy den. She swore she sensed movement, and even a hint of panic. It was just too dark too see. Remaining curled in her nest, the feeling peered over her tail, willing herself to focus. Something wasn't quite right. A gentle yet familiar voice called out into the silence and the young one smiled. Pulling herself out of her nest, the she-cat walked toward her den mate and sat down near him, her features soft and warming. "Just me," she purred gently, before narrowing her eyes and frowning slightly, remembering the slight panic from moments before. "Are you alright?" Concern was etched into the apprentice's features as she gazed upon her friend.
She assumed it was a nightmare, usually being the main source of panic or fear when one awakes. And then the self scolding and reassurance that often followed. She didn't remember when she last had a nightmare. In fact, when had she last dreamt anything? Well of course she would dream, everyone had dreams, but she could never remember any of them, and so it appeared as though there were none. She now wore a comforting yet slightly puzzled expression. To pass time, the young feline cast a glance out into the shadowy night. Last she had a proper conversation with Cinnamon was in the nursery, playing in the snow within the glow of moonlight. Yet already she viewed the Tom as a good friend of hers. Only friend maybe? She wasn't sure, she would often view everyone as her friends unless she had reason not to.
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