Thrushpaw's Warrior Ceremony

Smoky tendrils of faint clouds drifted across the rapidly darkening evening sky, rapidly dissipating fingers of light grey occasionally obscuring the newly laminated dusk. Though the day had been wrought with chilly gales that had buffeted the forest and moorlands with an unrelenting force, a late afternoon snowfall had effectively smothered down the worst of the bitter winds. Features kissed softly by the damp touch of more snowfall that weighed on the still twilight, Brindlestar gave herself a rigorous shake in hopes of brushing away the lingering drowsiness that hung heavily in her veins. It had been a difficult past few days, but there was a hopefulness budding in the air alongside the slow approach of spring- several Apprentices were close to completing their training, with Thrushpaw the latest in the batch, which would hopefully reverse their luck in the coming moons.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Tallrock!"