Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished!
It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.
{$title} Peony goes for a (successful) morning hunt.
Cold seeps into his bones. What little dots the bare moor past the barn's entrance in this frigid weather is precious little; brittle and so fragile, that Peony thinks simply breathing near them will destroy what's left.
All his easy confidence towards the other cats near the Horseplace is merely some scraped-together mask — it's all for display in hopes of scaring away anyone who may think of Peony and Petal as easy prey. The truth is, Peony has not felt this lost his entire life; someone way beyond his age would scoff and sneer at such an idea, say something outrageous like "your life has only just begun", but with the dangers looming behind every outcrop and tuft of grass, he is not so sure of a possible long future ahead of him.
The barn gets fuller every day it seems. The ground gets colder with every new blanket of snow thrust upon it.
If he is to have a future at all, he must create it himself. Even despite the morning chill, Peony sets out before his sibling could awaken, muzzle twitching as he tastes the bare air for hints of prey. Coming out here should yield something better than a stray, scrawny mouse or two from behind the haystacks.
It takes him a while to catch whiff of anything concrete, and even longer to track his prey down; his wry and pale fur blends in easily with the snowy backdrop, but there is little to no cover, and he can't risk scaring anything off without even seeing it for himself. Seeing it is only achieved through Peony's keen senses, for the rabbits adorn bright pelts this time of year, and it is perfect camouflage. A hungry hunter sees past nature's tricks however.
Before long, Peony finally feels warmth — it's in the shape of a fuzzy rabbit between his jaws, taking its last breath. This won't be enough to feed the both of us, Peony thinks, but if Petal gets to eat, I don't mind.
All his easy confidence towards the other cats near the Horseplace is merely some scraped-together mask — it's all for display in hopes of scaring away anyone who may think of Peony and Petal as easy prey. The truth is, Peony has not felt this lost his entire life; someone way beyond his age would scoff and sneer at such an idea, say something outrageous like "your life has only just begun", but with the dangers looming behind every outcrop and tuft of grass, he is not so sure of a possible long future ahead of him.
The barn gets fuller every day it seems. The ground gets colder with every new blanket of snow thrust upon it.
If he is to have a future at all, he must create it himself. Even despite the morning chill, Peony sets out before his sibling could awaken, muzzle twitching as he tastes the bare air for hints of prey. Coming out here should yield something better than a stray, scrawny mouse or two from behind the haystacks.
It takes him a while to catch whiff of anything concrete, and even longer to track his prey down; his wry and pale fur blends in easily with the snowy backdrop, but there is little to no cover, and he can't risk scaring anything off without even seeing it for himself. Seeing it is only achieved through Peony's keen senses, for the rabbits adorn bright pelts this time of year, and it is perfect camouflage. A hungry hunter sees past nature's tricks however.
Before long, Peony finally feels warmth — it's in the shape of a fuzzy rabbit between his jaws, taking its last breath. This won't be enough to feed the both of us, Peony thinks, but if Petal gets to eat, I don't mind.