Rabbits trembled at their hocks and bounded away, songbirds fled as fast as their frantically flapping wings could bring them. All looked on the scene with wide eyes that followed the white, ghostly figure that strolled casually through the woods.
It had been moons now since Crowfeathers introduction, mere weeks from her most recent teachings. Shed told him to harden his heart, armoring it for the worst. And, over time, hed done just that. He was reclusive to most, but outright violent with those that dared to insult him. One could tell from his well-practiced gait to preserve his talons, which clicked on the pebbly dirt and screeched on the granite; his dignified carriage, and the cold glare from his red eyes that he meant business. Those unfortunate few that had sneered at him never showed their faces around these parts again. He owned this place. This was his territory now.
A smug grin barely visible under his darkened, thoughtful expression, he perched on a boulder, and began to preen his smooth, nacreous feathers.
How is my first student doing? called a familiar, silken smooth and sickeningly sweet voice. As always, it was Crowfeather, with that same mysterious way of appearing just around the corner, seemingly out of nowhere. By how she referred to him as her first student, it was apparent her teachings were being preached elsewhere now. She was recycling outcast warriors and constructing a bloodthirsty, merciless legion made in the image of her.
Fine, he replied flatly, betraying a tone that almost seemed longing. Quickly brightening, he smiled. how about yourself? She leaned against the trunk of the gnarled old Oak, Better than ever. she grinned. He chuckled, intently gazing at her with his now calico eyes; one fogged over with white with a jagged scar drawn over it, and the other the same rose color.
It had been moons now since Crowfeathers introduction, mere weeks from her most recent teachings. Shed told him to harden his heart, armoring it for the worst. And, over time, hed done just that. He was reclusive to most, but outright violent with those that dared to insult him. One could tell from his well-practiced gait to preserve his talons, which clicked on the pebbly dirt and screeched on the granite; his dignified carriage, and the cold glare from his red eyes that he meant business. Those unfortunate few that had sneered at him never showed their faces around these parts again. He owned this place. This was his territory now.
A smug grin barely visible under his darkened, thoughtful expression, he perched on a boulder, and began to preen his smooth, nacreous feathers.
How is my first student doing? called a familiar, silken smooth and sickeningly sweet voice. As always, it was Crowfeather, with that same mysterious way of appearing just around the corner, seemingly out of nowhere. By how she referred to him as her first student, it was apparent her teachings were being preached elsewhere now. She was recycling outcast warriors and constructing a bloodthirsty, merciless legion made in the image of her.
Fine, he replied flatly, betraying a tone that almost seemed longing. Quickly brightening, he smiled. how about yourself? She leaned against the trunk of the gnarled old Oak, Better than ever. she grinned. He chuckled, intently gazing at her with his now calico eyes; one fogged over with white with a jagged scar drawn over it, and the other the same rose color.
