Post by Confetti on Jul 31, 2013 10:14:14 GMT
The tom woke up slowly, eyes peeling open as a large yawn broke through his jaws revealing his rows of pearly whites that glistened dangerously in the dim light cast into his den. The moon was just disappearing and now was the time for the clan to rise. The harsh tabby tom firmly believed in rising early and starting the day off quickly and expected the same from his clan; he ruled with an iron paw there was no doubt about that. And going against his orders often received a severe punishment - he wasn't afraid of seeming like the bad guy. He ran a tight shit and wanted his followers to not only fear his anger, but respect him for the well seasoned warrior that he was. He worked just as hard as any cat in the clan and was always looking out for them. He was fiercely protective of these cats, they were as good as family to him, but he wanted them to at least fight their own battles. He would not deal with any show of weakness from anyone. Top shape was expected and that was what he would get. He made sure his warriors worked hard and were constantly honing not only their battle skills, but their hunting as well. The clan needed to be well fed and everyone was to perform tasks from the moment they awoke to when they were permitted to go to sleep. There were no mid-day naps from anyone, not even Nightingalebone himself. Even if the tom were on his death bed he would try his hardest to do what he could and work his tail off until he couldn't do anything but sleep.
The tom pulled himself up and out of the small dip in the ground of his den that served as his bed, his body arched in a luxurious stretch as his muscles rippled and shivered under his pelt. Blinking the sleep from his eyes he shook out his pelt so it would all lie evenly and not stick to him on the side he had slept on. With that his morning routine was done and he padded out of his den and into the camp, eyes scanning the area for his warriors that should be waking soon. Setting himself down his eyes glistened in the waning light, lithe body blending well with the shadows cast by the bramble walls of the den. Cats would soon awake and feed themselves before getting along with their duties and he would be there to see over it all. He wasn't one to hide in his den and allow others to handle and lead the clan for him; he was constantly at the forefront there and in control. He wouldn't allow someone to take that control into their paws even if only for a minute.
The tom was almost repulsed by the thought of someone else taking charge, it set every fur on his body on end. He wasn't going to ever let that happen. This clan was his and there was no way that he would allow anyone to take it from him. Nightingalebone had worked hard and done all he could to make this clan the powerful force it was today and prided himself in always being hands on with his warriors. He watched over the training of the apprentices and stepped in when he saw fit, not caring if it angered some. He knew what he was doing and no one could tell him otherwise. He was the boss and that was all there was to it.
