Crowfether — Random text 3
Published: 2008-02-07 21:29:19 +0000 UTC; Views: 101; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 1 Redirect to originalDescription
The deep red blood clashed with his bright ginger pelt as it clotted. How could he have been so stupid? Couldn’t he scent? How could he have run in to that fox? He grimaced, pushing the thought of it to the back of his mind. He had to find her, the tortishell and white she-cat had all the answers, and he would find them! With that knowledge he could stop the humans, save his kits! But how, another part of his mind pondered, how to get her to tell him. Pausing on a boulder, he drew in a breath, vainly trying to capture a whiff of her scent. He failed, her scent was not there. He skidded down the boulder, his razor sharp claws making deep scrapes on the rock as he fell into a pool. He climbed out, spitting as mud coated his belly-fur. He stopped dead a few paw-steps further; there was a paw print in the mud, and a smudge of blood. The she-cat! He would find her, and her knowledge, he vowed to himself. Or he’d die trying!
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