Private Thread Flowerbright

Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa. Pressure that'll tip, tip tip 'till you just go pop, whoa.
❖ ⭒ ❖ ⭒ ❀ ⭒ ❖ ⭒ ❖

The river trail gave way to silence. It was one of those mornings where the world seemed to exhale, breeze soft but cool, leaves rustling like whispers along the RiverClan WindClan border. Cottonbright walked alone, her white pelt stark against the damp greens and golds of newleaf’s rise. She wasn’t patrolling, not really. Just… walking. Thinking.

Her steps slowed near the edge of the gorge, where the land dipped and the scent of WindClan lingered faintly. Her lime-green eyes swept the distance, cautious, expectant. Maybe she was hoping to clear her mind. She didn't really know yet...