early in the morning. (open)

[VANESSA]

A sleek she-cat poked out behind from a rusty frond, her head tilted up to the sky and her muscles tense. The she-cat's name was Morningeyes, and she was presently rearing on her hind legs to launch herself skyward. Up in the clear morning sky that was stretching across the ocean of grassy moorland, the sun was slowly riding up high - chasing away any stars that forgot to leave with the moon and the night sky. She was in her heaven, a very accurate replica of the moorlands in WindClan.
The stiff breeze rustled the moor's grasses and the warrior's short-haired pelt. It smelled and musty and cold, the she-cat made the hypothesis that the wind had come rolling off from the mountains. Her whiskers quivered as the draft continued to blow strongly, but she was still in the reared position.
Her powerful backlegs quickly sprung into the air, her black paws outstretched with her glinting claws unsheathed. Morningeyes landed back onto a sparse patch of grass with a dull thud and her prey helplessly gripped in her clasp, pierced through with one claw. She was victorious, and then she rolled one paw to its side. Her kill was a spruce leaf that had been drifting along in the breath of mountain wind, its' skin was dappled brown and a mixture of copper and crimson. It had been a waste of energy, yes, but Morningeyes was dead. She was free to use her energy as she wished.

Morningeyes leaped back onto her paws with vite, her tangerine eyes gleaming. The black warrior's face was upturned to the sky again, seeing the sun was still making its way to the highest point of the sky. The crystal heavens were unbroken by any fluffy clouds, so it promised a hot day.

She continued to stalk her territory, her belly scraping low on the sedgey turf as she loped around hills and slid down slopes. Her quick paws were careful to avoid any pebbles she may tumble, dirt she may scrape or leaves she may rustle, although she wasn't looking for live prey. Leaves and dandelion fluff were just as tricky to catch too, sometimes.
While helping a shiny-shelled beetle out of the tangle of a spider's web, a new breeze rolled by. This time, it carried the scent of a new cat.