"Where is Spirix?!" Nicodemus, a rather lean-bodied silver Maine Coone, called across the empty camp clearing.
The nearest cat, a Sphynx, wrinkled his brow to an extent where he seemed to possess no eyes.
"Ahh, no one is knowing sir, but sure an' we've been looking fer him all morn."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spirix, in fact, was doing the last thing one would have expected, being on an avid hunt. But this was no hutn for the clan. That was the last thing on his mind. Spirix's mind was set on one thing, and that was to take someone's, anyone's soul. He trotted methodically around brush, and up trees, down, between rocks. Some force was drawing him.
A scent caught his attention suddenly.
Was it? It couldn't have been. Elves had never come to the forest. Not this forest. But one had. It's smell overpowered the pine, a commendable feat.
An elf! That meant a soul! And what a soul to take!
Posted at 10:26 pm by bloody_scarlet
