Post by hollowstep on Sept 9, 2011 15:29:58 GMT -5
stomp your feet to the screams
Bleed for all eternity
Bleed for all eternity
Screaming. It filled his ears, vibrated in his being, and shook the world around him. With a breathless gasp for air as if he had just broke the surface of dark black water, he opened his green-yellow eyes to look around. The night sky stretched far above him, flecks of cold white stars appearing as ice floating on a colorless lake. The vague sensation of having been resting awkwardly on his shoulder recently crawled over him, but he was far from the familiar pine forest of ShadowClan territory. He sat on what the Clanners called "Twoleg nests," the cold, smooth surface of its top hard as any stone. As he uncomfortably shuffled around on its uneven sloping surface, it made a strange and hollow sound beneath him, unlike anything you could hear in the forest. Soon the unusual silence stole over him and he lifted his head, eyes observantly flicking around the scenery of his surroundings. Until the screaming started up again. It began as a low, groaning sound but slowly rose to the incredible yowl of a cat. Soon other voices joined in, beginning as practically inaudible sounds but growing into unbearable noise. He noticed the many cats sitting around him, mouths parted open as their voices caught the cold night air. A few sat with him on the Twoleg nest, while others sat on another Twoleg nest quite similiar to his across a great gap. Instinctively, his claws unsheathed to try and stabilize himself on the sheet of peculiar rock, but it was far too smooth. His claws would only drag helplessly across the strange object and which resulted in a terrible screeching noise. Giving up on this and sheathing his claws, he nervously leaned over to peer down into the gap that separated the two Twoleg nests. For some reason, he knew the word for what he was looking at. Alleyway. There more cats strewn about in the alley as well, all joining in on the racket. Now that he thought about it, there were lots of cats, some sitting on more Twoleg nests beyond his own and scattered about on the ground and in alleyways. Surprisingly, he felt the urge to join in with the off-key chorus of crying cats. It felt right, in some way. So he opened his mouth, drew out a breath deep from within his lungs, and let out a caterwaul.
With a start, the brown-and-black tabby tom awoke from his slumber, wincing at the throbbing pain in his shoulder. He'd fallen asleep against an old log, successfully getting himself into such a strange position that his shoulder had been crushed underneath all his weight while he slept. Bringing himself to his paws, he recalled his late-night hunt earlier. He'd been so exhausted but truly unwilling to return to camp where he'd have to sleep beside all those other cats, so he'd finally worked himself to the point where he'd collapsed on the spot and fallen asleep. Or something like that. Stretching his forepaws before him with his rump in the air, he enjoyed a long, relieving stretch. A large yawn filled his lungs with air and he was ready to tackle the day again. By the looks of it, it seemed about early morning. With a twitch of his tail, he investigated his store of prey he had accumulated over the night, sniffing at it curiously. Well, it wasn't fresh kill by any means, but just being a day old didn't necessarily make it crowfood. Come leaf-bare the Clan would be grateful for such a bountiful catch; no reason they couldn't store up fat on this and be as happy as well-fed RiverClan cats come leaf-bare. He snickered at the thought, scraping pine needles over the two skinny squirrels, decent sized mouse, and young sparrow. He eyed the bird hungrily, having acquired quite the fondness of their taste since his time spent here with ShadowClan. His appetite was nearly forgotten over refering to the Clan that way. They all called him Hollowstep and seemed to think they'd known him since he was a kit. But despite it being assumed of just temporary memory loss, which Hollowstep knew had a part in it, he was slightly convinced that this was not his life. Not meaning as in not being the kind of life he was meant for, but he was certainly not Hollowstep. Shaking away these troubling thoughts, Hollowstep allowed himself to plunge back into his warrior duties. Although outwardly anti-social and quiet, Hollowstep was observant and intelligent. He was relieved at the ability that his duties had to keep him occupied and free from boredom momentarily. Otherwise the day would be as interesting as staring at a tree for hours on end. The everyday routine of patrolling and hunting could get bothersome real quick, but that left him with options that required actually interacting with his Clanmates.
It wasn't that Hollowstep hated them, but he heard that the other Clans saw ShadowClan as cold, fierce, and power-hungry disgraces. It was, in fact, quite the opposite. In Hollowstep's opinion, most ShadowClan cats were soft. Or maybe it's just because he saw ShadowClan from the inside, not as an outsider. Still, he doubted who could see Peachblossom or Cricketleap as intimidating. Hollowstep's otherwise emotionless face experienced something rare: a subtle smile. He tried to imagine the sweet Peachblossom as a fierce, bloodthirsty warrior, but stopped himself before he might actually grin. Licking his paw pads that were sore from hunting all night long, he lightly padded along the soft ground, on the lookout for anything that might satisfy his search for anything that might successfully hold his interest for a bit. Each step was soundless, as if Hollowstep was weightless and barely touched the ground when he walked. It would definitely seem that way, for it did suit his name. Although he'd apparently been named because his "mother" had given birth in a hollow log, the beginning of his name worked wonderfully with the last part, truly being reflective of his skill. At least his fine ability to stalk silently made him fit into ShadowClan, all the more so since he was probably better at it than some of the cats. With eyes void of any hint of emotion, he considered trotting down toward the lake to stare out across its sparkling surface. Then again, that prey he had yet to deliver to ShadowClan's camp wasn't going to stay edible forever. Shrugging off the little bit of exploring he wanted to do, he returned to stare at his little pile of prey, sighing irritably at the thought of how he was going to carry it all back. Although he could probably carry both the mouse and sparrow in his mouth by their feet or tails, that still left the squirrels to deal with. He wasn't particularly fond of squirrels, especially their furry little bodies. He had trouble munching down through all that fur (yuck!) which tried to keep him away from having them in his mouth at any time. Of course, other cats might enjoy them so he had to catch them. Carrying them, though, would prove a hassle. He guessed he would have to make a total of three trips; one for the mouse and sparrow, one for one of the squirrels, and then one more for the last one. Their extremely fluffy tails kept him from carrying more than one at a time, and besides, one would be enough to deal with. Dreading the point of where he'd probably be choking on fluffy squirrel fur for two separate trips, Hollowstep picked up on the mouse and sparrow in his mouth, ready to begin another boring task.
