Post by ℛåîŋ on Oct 25, 2017 18:23:05 GMT -5
Wren and her den
Wren is a rouge living in a sandstone clearing next to a flowing river. She blends in with the area around her, giving her an interesting tactic on hunting. Her den is open to the air with a sandy, yet stony floor. She prides herself on climbing and hunting, but no so much on fighting as she never had siblings. Wren is a reserved cat, but isn't afraid to boast about her catches. Her past lineages make her small, as her grandfather and mother had been black-footed cats, however she was a bit larger as her father was a full grown tabby.
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Bright blue eyes flashed up at the edge of the river, a brown tail twitching. A cat stood beside sandy bank with water dripping from her wet maw and a hungry look in her eye. This creamy brown cat was named after the small little birds that flit around in the trees day after day; hence, the name Wren. With a swift movement, the female was to her paws, on a mission to reach her den before the heat of the day tore down her cool walls. Wren, slipping among the green hedges and keeping herself low to the ground, proceeded to crawl her way up to her open den.
Once she was up, she settled down on the soft pile of feathers and sand, watching the flies buzz on an old carcass of a dead crow. It had been waterlogged in the river for a couple of days, and Wren didn't dare to touch it. It smelled of disease.
The small female's head lowered down to her paws with a swishing tail.
(anyone?)
