(🜲) as leaves float across borders, color brightening the tall trees of the forest, and the sunlit meadows of the moors, the colony struggles on. it can be a dark place, this forest, where hunger drives cats to madness, but the colony is full of a rare warmth, spurred on by the close kinship of the forest dwellers. hazel's fire burns close to her heart, a low and hot flame, thriving even in the chill that permeates the autumnal air.
when day pulls on her long black coat, slinking behind the cover of the sunset, the shadows come out to dance, and dance they do. much of the forest is still alive at in the evening, late autumn fireflies flickering through the trees, hurrying away, perhaps, from the sound of pawsteps. hazel thrives in this state. she stalks through the territory, paws splashed with mud, tail dripping water onto the path behind her. a golden glowing gaze glances balefully about, color splotched nose twitching to scent the air. a musty earthen smell comes back to greet her, carried fresh on a brisk breeze. it ruffles her fur, mingling chocolate and pitch, and she sighs with delight. clutched in her maw, two mice hang by their tails, swinging gently against her chest as she walks.
it's this kind of messy peace that forces the feline out at night, her goal to fetch as much prey as possible. if she manages to dirty her paws while doing so, well, it's no one's fault but her own. tonight the sky is clear and easing swiftly from flame-lit to dark, the moon rising into the sky as evening closes down. hazel traipses across the familiar trails, eye scanning all around her. a movement above stops her in her tracks. there, in the sky, a creature soars, half hidden by trees, gliding effortlessly through the air. an interested gaze tracks its movement and hazel sets her mice down gently, tucking them beneath some leaf litter beside her. then, ears flattening and eyes wide, she crouches, hind muscles rippling with effort as she leaps up into a low tree. her stomach flips as she lands, teetering on wet bark, and thornlike claws slide out to grip the branch. above, the bat swoops, low enough that she can almost grab it…
there! deft claws snatch it from the air and the delicate webbed wings tear under the force of the catch. hazel takes it in her mouth and shakes, satisfaction warming her chest as she drops back to the ground. it is a magnificent catch, if she does say so herself, and she does. confidence sparks under her paws as she snatches up her other catches and returns to the colony's camp. prey has been scarce and is getting scarcer. that the molly has caught any at all is a sight to behold, let alone the amount she has found. pride and relief mingle in equal feelings within hazel's mind, worry only a creeping backdoor thought. sliding into her home, the chocolate tabby purrs softly as she sets the bat and her mice down. "fresh prey!" she announces, eyes, bright as her namesake, flicking around, seeking the familiar pelts of her mate and daughters. it isn't that the molly dislikes sharing her catches, but she will always make sure her family eats first.
when day pulls on her long black coat, slinking behind the cover of the sunset, the shadows come out to dance, and dance they do. much of the forest is still alive at in the evening, late autumn fireflies flickering through the trees, hurrying away, perhaps, from the sound of pawsteps. hazel thrives in this state. she stalks through the territory, paws splashed with mud, tail dripping water onto the path behind her. a golden glowing gaze glances balefully about, color splotched nose twitching to scent the air. a musty earthen smell comes back to greet her, carried fresh on a brisk breeze. it ruffles her fur, mingling chocolate and pitch, and she sighs with delight. clutched in her maw, two mice hang by their tails, swinging gently against her chest as she walks.
it's this kind of messy peace that forces the feline out at night, her goal to fetch as much prey as possible. if she manages to dirty her paws while doing so, well, it's no one's fault but her own. tonight the sky is clear and easing swiftly from flame-lit to dark, the moon rising into the sky as evening closes down. hazel traipses across the familiar trails, eye scanning all around her. a movement above stops her in her tracks. there, in the sky, a creature soars, half hidden by trees, gliding effortlessly through the air. an interested gaze tracks its movement and hazel sets her mice down gently, tucking them beneath some leaf litter beside her. then, ears flattening and eyes wide, she crouches, hind muscles rippling with effort as she leaps up into a low tree. her stomach flips as she lands, teetering on wet bark, and thornlike claws slide out to grip the branch. above, the bat swoops, low enough that she can almost grab it…
there! deft claws snatch it from the air and the delicate webbed wings tear under the force of the catch. hazel takes it in her mouth and shakes, satisfaction warming her chest as she drops back to the ground. it is a magnificent catch, if she does say so herself, and she does. confidence sparks under her paws as she snatches up her other catches and returns to the colony's camp. prey has been scarce and is getting scarcer. that the molly has caught any at all is a sight to behold, let alone the amount she has found. pride and relief mingle in equal feelings within hazel's mind, worry only a creeping backdoor thought. sliding into her home, the chocolate tabby purrs softly as she sets the bat and her mice down. "fresh prey!" she announces, eyes, bright as her namesake, flicking around, seeking the familiar pelts of her mate and daughters. it isn't that the molly dislikes sharing her catches, but she will always make sure her family eats first.
- // she's looking for bracken, magnolia, or honeysuckle, but this is open to anyone!! " #b8a300"
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HAZEL ☼ SHE / HER, WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN. 54 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS