Quote:
i have a feeling that that wasn't a typo.... >.>
Nope, it was on purpose
I don't think you were there when the original 'payroll' typo was made. Quinn's Iphone(?) substituted the word 'patrol' for 'payroll' when she was typing.
Quote:
i have a feeling that that wasn't a typo.... >.>
Nope, it was on purpose
I don't think you were there when the original 'payroll' typo was made. Quinn's Iphone(?) substituted the word 'patrol' for 'payroll' when she was typing.
i know, i usually lurk everywhere, and re-read whatever i miss.
Quote:
i have a feeling that that wasn't a typo.... >.>
Nope, it was on purpose
I don't think you were there when the original 'payroll' typo was made. Quinn's Iphone(?) substituted the word 'patrol' for 'payroll' when she was typing.
I don't think you were there when the original 'payroll' typo was made. Quinn's Iphone(?) substituted the word 'patrol' for 'payroll' when she was typing.
wait a sec..... i thought it was an Ipad?
Maybe it was, I don't remember. That's why I placed a question mark next to the 'Iphone' part; I wasn't sure.
(Oh, I remember that. It was the first time I learned that the warriors of Wingclan actually got a salary
)
(Okay, I thought I'd inject a little bit of excitement into this thread. *laughs evily*)
They were coming for her.
Darkness edged the forest, blanketing the ground with a night-like silence. Shadows danced about the trees, grinning broadly at the young pullet pelting through the undergrowth, not caring if the brambles and briers struck her full in the face. Something far worse lurked behind, ready, and waiting to deal her far more than a little scratch.
A crack in the darkness made the little pullet jump, her yellow eyes wide and terrified. Wings opened, battering uselessly at the air as she heard the noises getting louder, approaching at a startling pace. It seemed as if the very forest was against her, beating her unmercifully with branches, sharp twigs, and thorns. Little beads of blood trickled down the pullets crown, mingling with the cold sweat that drizzled onto the ground. Yet she couldnt stop. If she did, she would die.
Lungs ready to burst and legs throbbing, the pullet stumbled over a tree root snaking out of the ground, tumbling head over heels into a feathered heap on the forest floor. For a moment she lay there, huddled, eyes shut tight and breathing raspy as she waited, hoping with all her might that her pursuers had stopped, that they had given up and gone away.
The pullet didnt know how long she lay there, legs drawn up to her chest and beak tucked under wing. It seemed like an eternity, a season, a whole moon. At last, she realized that all she could hear was the sharp chirping of birds in some far-off oak. All else was silence. Even the leaves seemed to have stopped rattling.
Trembling, the little pullet opened her eyes. She blinked.
The shadow looming over her smiled. Leaving so soon?
She screamed.
At Iceberry's shout and the unearthly scream of distress, Silvermist flapped down from the tree in which she had been preening. "What happened?" she asked Iceberry, running to keep up, eyes alert and attentive.