haven || shells

[COBWEB]

bitternpaw
" i will not bow , i will not break "

Most of Bitternapw’s clan mates were huddled in their designated dens. Their wets pelts pushed up against one another vying for each other’s warmth. Kittens, unafraid by the diseases that were sired by the cold and the rain, dashed about in the mud. Moss balls went flying and protesting squeaks were heard in the heart of camp. Rain fell from the grey, crackled sky and small streams of light sparkled upon the muddles of water. A storm was approaching but it was taking its time. A massive Bengal tom shouldered his way out of the apprentice den. No one protested, in fact they all seemed to shrink away from his presence. He was quite pleased with their reaction even though his face remained expressionless. Bitternpaw wasn’t considered a friendly cat but then again not a lot of felines within Shadowclan were too friendly.

Once out of camp he trotted toward the Little River. The scent of moss and rainfall comforted him and reminded him why he was born here. He couldn’t imagine living in any other territory especially Windclan’s where there was no place to hide. The constant shadows gave the large tom solace and although he was muscular he prided himself on his stealth. He would never be as quick or agile as those in Windclan and Riverclan but he made up for his lacking qualities. With each paw step his muscles rippled beneath his beautiful striped pelt. Every inch of the tom screamed Shadowclan except for his eyes. They were a soft hue, like the ocean. That was the only trait that could have suggested Thunderclan and it was because of his eyes that she-cats tended to be drawn to him. Of course, the tom would have nothing to do with she-cats. He found them to be weak and irritating. He held respect for those that earned it, the ones that could hold their own in both battle and in a debate. But unfortunately most she-cats were petty and squawked around like love sick doves—it was something he could go without.

He trekked further into his shadowy domain. The grass beneath his paws were soggy and soaked into the pads of his paws but the small canopy of trees overhead managed to fend off most of the rain. Only snippets of the remaining sunlight could trickle down onto the ground. The tom would never admit it to anyone but he loved this territory and the beauty it possessed. Flowers colored both red and yellow sprouted from the lax soil and ferns and brambles hovered along the bases of the handful of trees that were placed upon Shadowclan's territory. This place was his home, the only place he would ever belong.

[/justify]

[ word count ; 441 ]
[ tagged ; shells, jagged ]
[ notes ; i am stoked!][/size]

[Shells]

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[atrb=background,http://img513.imageshack.us/img513/4407/jagmid2.png] Pacing back in forth in his den, Jaggedtooth’s mind buzzed with thoughts. ThunderClan had recently been driven from their camp, but they had still taken refuge in ShadowClan territory. It was bad enough that ShadowClan had been forced to play host to one of their enemy Clans, but they were faced with running into ThunderClan cats everyday. How could he run his Clan seriously if he wasn’t allowed to kick out any ThunderClan cats that he spotted in ShadowClan territory? It didn’t seem natural, and Jaggedtooth had always grown up with the four separate Clans in their four separate territories. Why had StarClan punished ShadowClan by forcing them to live in peace with ThunderClan? Well, he would allow ThunderClan to reside in ShadowClan’s territory, but it wouldn’t be in peace. Continuing to pace throughout his den, Jaggedtooth slammed his head into the wall of his den and hissed in frustration. The den was way too small for a cat of his size. He could hardly fit his entire body in the den, let alone fit another cat in there whenever he needed to speak to them. Pushing his way out of his den and into ShadowClan camp, Jaggedtooth continued to muse over ShadowClan’s current situation. Now that Cedarstar was dead, he was the new leader of ShadowClan, and he needed to head to Moonstone as soon as possible so that he could receive his nine lives. He had been extremely busy with the whole ThunderClan problem, but now that it was resolved for the moment, he could make the journey to Moonstone. He had thought long and hard about which cats he would take with him on his journey to Moonstone, as the journey would be long and difficult. They might even cross paths with ThunderClan on the way, and he wanted to make sure that he had the right cats with him if they did. He knew that he wanted to take Birchshadow with him. After all, he was the medicine cat, and he knew more about Jaggedtooth than any other cat in the Clan. Maybe too much, he thought to himself. It was essential that he took a medicine cat with him because not even ThunderClan would attack a medicine cat, and especially on a journey to Moonstone. The journey also seemed like a good chance for an apprentice to prove himself or herself. But which apprentice? One stood out in Jaggedtooth’s mind, but he did not have his mind set. He needed to be sure that he was making the right decision; this journey was one of the most important ones he would ever make in his lifetime. Slinking out of ShadowClan camp and into the marshland, Jaggedtooth felt his hackles relaxing. This was his territory—his sanctuary. His large brown paws splashed through the moist land, bringing his thoughts back to the flood and all of the destruction it had caused; not only to ThunderClan and RiverClan, but also to the Clans that had been forced to shelter them. There was just no way that two territories could feed four Clans. This was something that would definitely be brought up at the next Gathering. As he neared the Little River, Jaggedtooth noticed Bitternpaw, one of ShadowClan’s apprentices, padding toward the river. Something about this apprentice interested Jaggedtooth. He reminded him of a younger version of himself—fierce, strong, battle-hungry; ShadowClan needed more apprentices like him. The large Abyssinian tom watched the apprentice from a distance for a while, and then strode powerfully toward the young tom, his muscles rolling beneath his shiny pelt. His fur was well-groomed and glossy in the moonlight, and was only interrupted by the shiny, blood-red scar that ran across his face where Brightstar had struck him. It didn’t bother him; battle scars were something that proved a cat’s worth. Descending the slope and approaching Bitternpaw in one swift movement, Jaggedtooth sat down next to the apprentice and stared straight ahead at the river observantly. “I love ShadowClan territory as well. It possesses a sort of wonder that could only be shaped by StarClan itself.”

[COBWEB]

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[atrb=background,http://img7.imageshack.us/img7/9073/bitternmid.png] The large tom was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice his leader approaching. Bitternpaw wasn’t the type to lay around and ponder the wonders of the universe. On an average day he would be hunting, training, practicing the moves his mentor taught him the day before. The large apprentice was determined, proud, and above all ambitious. He used his time wisely and made it bend to his will. Sitting around just didn’t cut it for him. He wanted to be both powerful and skilled—he wanted to be a leader like Jaggedstar. Only… he wasn’t necessary a leader without his nine lives from Starclan. He flicked one of his ears. It only occurred to him now that there was a possibility that Starclan could turn their backs on Jaggedtooth, they could refuse to bless him and give him nine lives. Wasn’t that possible? His frown deepened. “I love ShadowClan territory as well. It possesses a sort of wonder that could only be shaped by StarClan itself.” Bitternpaw sunk his claws into the ground and gripped the soil so he wouldn’t appear startled. His leader was someone he looked up to, someone he wanted to strive to be and more, and if he had known that he hadn’t heard him coming, that would be disastrous. So Bitternpaw remained still and proud, his eyes burning holes into the riverbed. It was always an honor when a leader addressed someone of poor ranking but the Bengal tom knew the tom wasn’t one for small talk. He must have come to him for a reason, a reason he had yet to figure out. I love Shadowclan territory as well. It possesses a sort of wonder that could only be shaped by Starclan itself. His leader’s words echoed in his head. He almost wrinkled his nose when Jaggedtooth mentioned Starclan. The large apprentice didn’t hold them in high regard as he should but he did believe in his ancestors. It was the only way the clan leaders could be granted nine lives. He had seen leaders lose their lives only to be revived in a matter of minutes (sometimes more depending on the injury). So he did believe in them but he did not reverie them especially after all the destruction and turmoil they had put the clans through. They always seemed silent when the biggest threats were stalking them. It was infuriating. The apprentice blinked and rolled his shoulders backward. He turned to his leader, dipping his head to acknowledge his respect, and replied with a nod. “Indeed. It’s a shame that we have to share our piece of land with those obnoxious tree huggers.” Bitternpaw didn’t bother hiding the scorn that laced his words. Thunderclan had always been their biggest opponent and it certainly wasn’t going to change just because they were sharing their land. Cedarstar had been gracious but now with Jaggedtooth as leader and Cedarstar murdered, things were likely to change. In the back of his mind he hoped a fight would break out, just so he could feel his enemies flesh under his claws. [ words : 517 ] [ notes : eh, not my best ]