Quote:
Originally Posted by Clover
Skipper awoke to noise above her, where cats were beginning to stir. She could hear them out of the safety of her burrow in the snow, and she held no desire to leave. But obligation drove her far enough, and so she began to move, shaking off layers of fatigue, crawling around in a circle until she was near the entrance. Slowly, she crawled out, her shoulders brushing the top, the fur being wetted by the bits of snow that clung and melted. Finally, she emerged, eyes pursed to a slit to filter out the blindingly bright light. Slowly, they adjusted, and she could see the whole of the clearing, quiet and peaceful in the early morning, a rarity for the turbulent existence of the syndicate. She let out a slight sigh of relief, the scarce amount of cats a weak comfort. She gave her fur a quick shake, icy crystals falling to the ground. She gave the glade a quick scan, and spotted a molly pacing back and forth, restlessly. A bit of curiosity igniting witching her, Skipper trotted towards the she-cat, red ears held erect. "Are you alright?" she asked, tail twitching slightly as she awaited an answer.
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Seeing the she-cat approach, Talon was tempted to snarl at Skipper to make her leave. The fighter needed to find peace with herself before she could answer any of Skipper's questions. Talon kept her features steady as she looked over the newcomer. "Come to join my pacing party?" the fighter quieried Skipper, her eyes in somewhat of a haze.
As the she-cat asked Talon her question, her ears folded back defensively, but soon returned to their normal appearance. "It's odd how cats who live in the Syndicate don't realize that it is a stressful life," Talon remarked coldly, not quite regretting her decision of her attitude toward the cat. The fighter let out a long sigh, tears boiling in her amber eyes; exasperated.