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"Who cares what happens when we’re dead? We shouldn’t think that far ahead. The only latter day that matters is tomorrow."

Grasspaw • Male • 8 moons • Apprentice • Apprentice Den • Mentions: None

In his sleep, the young male's paw flexed and his claws scraped the soil, leaving puncture marks. A soft, rumbling snore rolled its way out of Grasspaw's black nostrils, joining the symphony of other sleeping apprentices. The loud cawing of an overhead crow shook him awake finally, his soft brown eyes blinking open into the dim light. Other apprentices around him groaned and mumbled, complaining about the dawn light and their neighbors, who had twisted like knots in their restless slumber. A female, younger than himself, was the first to actually stand, her skull drooped low and her face showed sure signs of grogginess. Sighing, Grasspaw lifted himself from his nest and shuffled from the cave.


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"Take me in at your flood, give me speed
Give me lights, set me humming!
Shoot me up with your blood, wind me up
With your nights, watch me coming!
All I want is a whole lot of excess
Tell the singer this is where I'm playing!"

Gingermoon • Female • 25 moons • Warrior • Her Den --> Camp • Mentions: None

The heat crept in from outside, its stifling temperature kept mostly at bay by the walls of the stony alcove. Inside, Gingermoon's minty eyes were hidden by pale eyelids is if she were still slumbering, but the flicking ear atop her head falsified suspicion. Slenderly-structured head rested lazily on gargantuan paws until boredom compelled her to rise, jaws opening in a sharp-toothed yawn. Rough, scarred pawpads found stone and soil in slow progression as the groggy female left the cozy den behind temporarily, slinking out into the sunlight. A couple of lions, mostly young apprentices, had spread emerged and were greeting their friends as usual. So for now, Gingermoon folded her back legs underneath her rump and dropped, huffing as she lay down on a grassy patch.

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"Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet, only through the experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved."

Volesnout • Female • 150 Moons • Elder • Elders Den ---> Camp • Mentions: None

A heavy humid cloud of hot air floated about in the large empty cave. From inside, you could hear loud robust snoring coming from a certain elder, her body sprawled out on the messy bed she rested on. Volesnout would suddenly open her dark amber eye's, gaze creeping slowly towards the entrance to the overheated cave she lay in. Unable to let herself fall back to sleep, the lioness gave a reluctant huff, pulling her large and heavy body off the ground before making her way to the entrance to her cave. Her jaws would slowly open, allowing a heavy and sleepy yawn to escape her chest as she moved across the dirty terrain. From a distance, she could make out the medium sized shapes of playful apprentices as they interacted with their den-mates, chatting up a storm that would not cease. Volesnout would have wished them a good morning, but, today she wasn't feeling at all up to interacting with lions who were more agile and curious than she was herself. So she would pass on that opportunity. She would move swiftly across the clearing towards a flat rock that lay out in the sun. During the mornings, Volesnout would usually take time out of the day to relax her old aching bones for a while, soon making this a daily routine for the old hag. Climbing upon the rock, she plopped down, soon getting to work on grooming the remaining bits of leaves and bedding debris from her coat, it had crossed her mind at first when she had woken up, she had been too lazy to do it then.

Oneclaw ¦ Female ¦ 60 Moons ¦ Warrior ¦ Warrior Den > Camp ¦ Mentions: Volesnout

The dawn light crept slowly into the cool stony cave. There were various figures laying about the floor, but only one moved. A strongly built tawny lioness stirred, coal-lined eyes opening and displaying the deep amber of her irises. Oneclaw looked up and yawned, long fangs and crushing molars glinting in the sun. Her muscles flexed under her skin as she stood and padded from the den. Once outside, the sun warmed the cold that lingered in her body. She stretched with her tail high, rump stuck in the air, and front legs stretched ahead. Little ruts formed in the packed ground where she clawed at it.

Scanning the camp in the light of the new day she saw a fellow warrior, Gingermoon, and nodded as she walked passed her. In the center of camp was an elder. No, the elder. Adjusting her course, the lioness made her way to older female. While her signature scowl remained, her tone was welcoming. "Greetings, Volesnout. Having a good morning?"

Rowanheart|Male|36 moons|Warrior|Warrior Den--->Camp|Mentions: Gingermoon

Squinting his eyes at the light invading the crowded den, Rowanheart let out a soft yawn. He rolls off his side and slowly lifts his 475 pound body. He carefully pads around sleeping warriors, making sure not to accidentally step on someone. As the fresh air greets him, he looks around camp. Taking heavy steps, he goes and sets his body down, not far from Gingermoon. "Hello Gingermoon. How did you sleep?" He says in a sleep filled voice.

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"Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet, only through the experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved."

Volesnout • Female • 150 Moons • Elder • Elders Den ---> Camp • Mentions: Oneclaw

She had slowly started to fall asleep, but, the sudden sound of approaching paws resented her from closing her heavy amber eyes. Looking up, she snorted, though, not in annoyance. "Greetings to you too, Oneclaw. The day has been fair, but...Not really to my liking with this weather." Volesnout muttered, blinking slowly before shifting on top of the rigid but comfortable rock. Volesnout, being the only elder in the pride was respected, though, not as much as their leader of course! But just enough to show that she herself is wise and knows a few things. The lioness had never been a talker and enjoyed her alone time, but, she did have a lot of time on her paws, so why not strike up a conversation. "So." She started "How have you been Oneclaw? I hear that the patrols and hunts have been successful." The elder said with a satisfied purr, it was good to know that nobody in her clan was in danger and were safe from the other wild animals in this area.

Oneclaw ¦ Female ¦ 60 Moons ¦ Warrior ¦ Camp ¦ Mentions: Volesnout

Oneclaw sat on her haunches and looked to the resting elder. "I am well, as are the hunts. Nothing but a few knicks and bruises. It's the patrols that warrant attention in my opinion. I've picked up the scent of Roseclan uncomfortably close to our borders more than once." It was probably nothing, but in the eyes of a dedicated warrior it meant keeping a raised guard. Solclan was king, and the weak always envied those above. While she spoke, her gaze had drifted off and landed on the entrance to camp. She'd have to patrol soon, though not without a few others. No doubt Eveningstar had a plan for the day, yet it seemed he hadn't woken up.

"You know my name, not my story. You know what I've done, not what I've been through. Learn before you judge, for if you were in my paws, you'd fall with the first step."

Frostheart
Male | 44 moons | Deputy | Transvaal Lion | Location: Hunting Area -> Camp | Mentions: [Directly] None [Indirectly] Lilystream, Buzzardpaw
Application

A massive white lion padded in the hunting part of the Clan's territory, planning with determination to catch a more than decent meal for some lion in his Clan. Sure, it was morning and, being deputy, he was supposed to organize patrols and the like once everyone was awake, but he most definitely could hunt now, when the sun hadn't risen. Besides, when was hunting a bad or unfortunate thing? Food was always needed, and extra food was especially good. Plus, he had woken up earlier than most, as was a normal thing for the male, and he had decided to go hunting, as was also normal. It was typically his daily routine, and pretty much everyone in the Clan knew he did this.

The sun hadn't fully risen yet, so he still had some time to hunt before he began to head back and fully start the day. The wind gently ruffling his short fur and magnificent mane, Frostheart padded across the savannah floor, in the part of the territory where the Clan most typically hunted. And sniffing and observing the ground all in front of him, he noticed a little area of grass that seemed to be where a large animal had laid down and he sniffed the area, assuming the animal to be a zebra. Ears now perked, he began moving forward, following the scent. As soon as he heard shuffling, he immediately crouched to the ground, moving forward slowly with his tail hovering above the ground as to avoid making noise, soon spotting the animal. It was a large, female zebra, a plump one too, which would make her a bit easier to hunt as she would be slower. Stalking the beast, he got as close as he could, stopping when he couldn't go farther as to avoid being seen. Then he charged and, pouncing, his claws dug into the hard, firm back of his prey to trap the zebra before his teeth latched onto its neck, biting incredibly hard with a bite force stronger than that of an average lion's. In a matter of moments, the massive feline had killed the weaker animal with his powerful bite.

Seeing the sun get higher in the sky, Frostheart grabbed his kill before beginning to walk back to camp with the animal dragging behind him, knowing it would be wise to be there when the morning fully began. Not really any feline was awake at the moment, so he'd most likely get back there when the Clan was about to awake, or when they did. Soon enough, the deputy arrived back home and entered his Clan's camp, his walk showing just the slightest, little bit of pain as the zebra had kicked him in the ribs with her powerful legs, her hooves causing just a slight bruise, and a tiny little cut. The incredibly massive ex-rogue padded into the camp, dragging the massive, beast-like, female zebra behind him with his powerful jaws. Intimidating blue orbs scanned the camp as the few that were awake shuffled that morning in the midst of the camp. The brute soon set the animal down on the ground before him, atop the prey pile, his massive jaws parting for him to yawn as he stood there, his terrifying sharp teeth revealed. He had an extraordinary figure. He was incredibly large with firm, rock-hard muscles under his soft, short fur, his legs not lanky at all with his height due to the muscles. His fangs were knife-sharp and very long. And his claws were normal-lengthed but very sharp. Frostheart was white, with a long, magnificent mane. He had many scars, not taking away any of the attractiveness of the tom, just adding to his already respectable and terrifying aura. His eyes were an intimidating, striking, and yet captivating blue that could easily disturb and scare some animal as he stared into one's eyes as if staring into their soul.

Looking around the camp, Frostheart searched for two lions. One was Lilystream, his younger sister who he protected with his life. She was all he had left, the only one who loved him. The other one was his apprentice, Buzzardpaw. The deputy had been planning on leading a patrol and having Buzzardpaw come with him. Letting out a huff, the colossal lion picked up a rather large and plump hare from the prey pile, taking it over just a few feet from the pile itself and dropping it on the ground. He preferred to take smaller portions of prey for himself, even though he actually needed bigger prey because of his size, because he wanted the others, especially queens and elders, to get the larger more delicious prey. Licking his lips, Frostheart sat on his rump and bent over, eating the hare in one, big bite.

| Buzzardpaw |
Male • 10 Moons • Asiatic Lion • Warrior Apprentice
Location: Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Frostheart / {Indirectly} Grasspaw, Fennelpaw, Eveningstar

Nightmares tormented the nearly adolescent male’s dreams. Limbs twitched, at times quite violently, hind paws kicking out while his front claws shredded the soft grasses lining his nest. One of his feet collided with the shoulder of the apprentice who slept to his left side and their outraged snarls had golden eyes bursting open in a panic. The young lion sent him a glare full of loathing before rising to his paws and exiting the den. Buzzardpaw’s ears flicked with shame and he averted his gaze whilst muttering a quick apology.

Taking a deep breath, he rolled onto his own paws and followed the other apprentice outside with the intention of apologizing, but the larger male had already disappeared among the crowd. Blinking in the early morning sunlight, he caught glimpses of Grasspaw and Fennelpaw moving among their Clanmates before the ghostly white pelt of is mentor caught his eye. His mother had a particularly pale pelt, but not even she could rival Frostheart or Eveningstar’s snow colored fur.

Buzzardpaw hurried to Frostheart’s side, slipping between the legs of adults with a few polite pardon mes and ex excuse mes until he slowed to a halt in front of the massive of lion. He sat back on his haunches a respectable distance away, waiting patiently for the deputy to finish his meal. The day’s training would begin before long and he wondered what he and Frostheart would be doing.



| Dawnflower |
Female • 60 Moons • Masai Lion • Warrior
Location: Camp • Mentions: {Directly} None [Open] / {Indirectly} Nightpaw, Palefur

Dawnflower padded back into camp not long after Nightpaw. The tawny furred lioness had spotted the young cub wandering the savanna alone while out on an early morning stroll of her own and kept an eye on him, well enough out of sight to offer the freshly apprenticed male some freedom, but close enough to intervene if trouble should arrive. Though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Dawnflower made a mental note to speak with Palefur about it later. Nightpaw must understand it was dangerous to leave camp alone. Even without the threat of MudClan hanging over their heads, other enemies and predators still lingered beyond the safety of camp.

Her eyes drifted to the prey pile briefly, but she made the decision to hold off on eating, She always hunted better on a half-empty stomach and wanted to make sure her performance was at it’s finest should she be selected for a hunting patrol. Her last meal the previous night had proven rather filling and not even the faintest pangs of hunger had touched her yet. Finding a patch of sunlight to relax in until called upon, she settled on her belly and began grooming paws.



| Fawnstep |
Male • 72 Moons • Transvaal Lion • Warrior
Location: Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Fennelpaw

Morning light bathed his tan pelt and Fawnstep sighed softly, relishing the warmth. Despite the frigid temperatures that often came with night, he had chosen to sleep beneath the stars once darkness fell, memories of his former mate Palestream keeping him awake. It wasn’t sorrow that had kept sleep at bay, but rather fond memories. For perhaps the first time in a long time the mere thought of her didn’t hurt his heart. Extending his limbs in a luxurious stretch, the large male headed toward the apprentice’s den to greet his cubs. Fennelpaw appeared through the entrance first, looking as if he’d been awoken before he was ready. “Good morning son,” he called, voice laced with subtle amusement. “Did you sleep well?”