The moon was still bright when Flamethrower wandered into the clearing. Still smelled of cats, too, though the mingled, blurred scents were stale and a couple days old at this point.
The open space tempted him, a light breeze — still chilly but bursting with newleaf scents — brushing the grass. And he couldn't call it anything except newleaf; in the city it was Spring, but that didn't even begin to cover how much plant life was blooming, all the critters fattening up on whatever they ate, the rain making things grow almost at a speed he could see. He had to admit he liked it. It was different. It was... possibly becoming home, in a way.
His paws brushed at the grass blades, idly kicking over the tickling leaves. It wasn't like there was anyone to see, but, well....
...It really would be more like home if he had someone to share it with. Someone to run with.
He flicked his tail, a hint of a smile cracking at his maw. Wasn't worth coming all the way over here unless he made the most of it, even if there was no one else to admire how fast he could go. With a light bounce, he leapt forward and shoved his paws against the ground, building into a full sprint as fast as any WindClanner.
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