[Estelle]

There was nothing she loved more than running. Being down in the tunnels was nice – a skill she could develop, use, to rise above the rest and prove her worth. A skill she was good at, in a manner of speaking, and though it dirtied her pristinely clean pelt, she enjoyed it. Still, it would never deter her from running. The wind in her fur, the sun on her back, the open plains. It was a joy in life and all she could do to clear her mind. Even as it strained one leg and pulled on the healing tissues of the other – foolishly – Silverrose couldn’t care less. All she wanted was to run. To escape these thoughts.

It was in this moment that she caught sight of a bird just at her head, flying away from her large strides. This only served as a motivator, picking up her speed in a whirlwind blur as she began to chase the little bird, using a nearing ledge to jump off and clap her paws around it, plucking the thing right out of the air. The bird squirmed, and Silverrose was quick to end its life with a bite but. She paused. A lapwing; the first little bird she caught under her first mentor’s guidance. A sliver of disdain filled her eyes, a cold chill passing around her.

Leaning down, she was quick to bury the little bird – quick, deep. Not because of the minks, not to hide it, but out of an unwillingness to see it any longer. She would retrieve it later. Or not. But that thought cut short, her ears flicking when sound of another came to be. Her head swivelled around with speed, eyes readjusting when she noticed him.
“Hawkfur.”
Her voice sounded, a second of anger flaring in her chest;
“What --”
She began, but cut herself off. Her head momentarily dipped low – she couldn’t let this get the better of her – before a polite expression formed.
“I apologise. Did you require something?”


[ @Mica ]