eleven's construction zone

Alone under the brotherly oak trees, the breeze snaked through their arms in efforts to estrange the oaks. The season before the snow, it had cruel ways to slowly and insidiously introduce every being into the dead cold of leaf-bare. The forest Lightningstar called home shifted from its sharp green into the warm colors of leaf-fall. It was almost taunting them; reds and yellows, to mimic the sun the warriors would have little of in leaf-bare. He wondered if Starclan made it in such a way to warn their ascendents of danger. The loud sun rested high above his head, perhaps amused with the pathetically chilled nature. Lightningstar was also equally amused.

Forgotten leaves crunched under his leisurely paw, a wonderful noise to fill his ears. The whole way to the borders had been as such. A patrol followed him until the white tom managed to lose them. Something they worried about... prey, was it? Probably. The border hadn't been checked in over two sunsets, he assured himself it would be best to check it out without bothering his warriors about it. They had grown annoyed of his pestering, and his unnecessary jokes, so Lightningstar heeded their complaints and promised to do it himself.

Windclan deserved an award for orderliness. Not a single whiff of moorlands or rabbit guts among the poor black trees, Lightningstar could have sworn he experience surprise. Nevertheless, his watchful, plain green eyes scanned along the flatness of Windclan. Not a single warrior within sight. He took himself to the Riverclan border then, satisfied with what he found in the Singed Forest. Satisfaction, actually, welled quite comfortably in his chest, warming him up against the chilly leaf-fall air.

He wasn't built for leaf-bare. His pelt hugged his body closely, allowing for the air to penetrate easier. While his sheer muscle was apparent and available to any lingering eye, he appreciated some warmth now and then. He appreciated not having his tail, toes, and ears practically froze off every time a rogue wind crawled up him. One time, one of his warriors (he was the deputy at the time) snuggled close to him, and his long fur reminded Lightningstar of the endless throes of green-leaf heat. He remembered how they both neglected their duties that day in exchange for some much-needed coziness. He also wanted to have the ability to borrow some of his fur.

Lightningstar flanked the Howling River once he caught sight of it. Fish jumped out occasionally, catching the white tom by small surprise. He hunted for fish once upon a time and decided it was best to respectfully observe from a safe distance. The water was no doubt chilled to a harrowing degree, and Lightningstar wouldn't dare sink a foot into the flowing water. Admire the river from a safe distance too, he guessed.

Water audibly rippled before the leader could vision ahead of him. The river has been disturbed. A hardness crept upon Lightningstar's brow, and he began to instinctively chew at his cheek. A silly pout formed on his face and he had no idea it was present. All that buzzed about in his head was who dare interrupt a fine border check?

His question was answered in the form of a mottled body, sat too comfortably beside Thunderclan territory. A wet cat smell hit Lightningstar like a monster. He ambled closer, annoyance bubbled in his throat. He made out the shape of the cat's profile and the fur that stuck wetly across narrow but swimming-able bones. It was Scorchstar. He was the fish, now, that had caught the snowy tom for a lackluster surprise.

"Hey. You look quite snug." A statement crafted in unpleasant calmness and boredom, Lightningstar can't change how his voice has been set. He doesn't shout, as he always decided against it. It was too placid for any normal leader. He flicked his tail forward, "but I believe you're clan's that-a-way, you know? The expanse behind your side of the river."

believe.

ALL I ASK OF YOU IS BELIEVE