' ' WAS IT WORTH IT? ' ' Flint SRP Part 1

Instructions

It was just an ordinary day. Flintforge had been out flying, maybe thinking about a little hunting trip. The wind blew pleasantly against his cheeks, ruffling his feathers gently as if it were a few moons ago when his kits, still small, had nuzzled against him for warmth. Ah, his kits!~ His lovely, sweet kits. Des, Deci, Lottie, Meggie, Sil and Thee. How he loved them. Setting his gaze on the view around him, a calm smile graced his face. The sky was mostly clear, except for the small, almost transparent whisps of cloud that were quite the beautiful addition, and the temperature was cool, making him feel even more awake and alive. The occasional bobbing between cloud and air collected dew drops on his feathers, streaking off one by one as air gushed past his wings. He crossed the grey peaks that towered up past the clouds, finally arriving at his destination: the Pines. A place he had often visited in the past to collect rocks, but thankfully he wasn’t back to commit another crime. Just a simple hunting trip, that was all. He made his descent, landing on the ground without flaw just as he always had, before lifting his nose slightly and scenting the air. It looked like Falconclan had been blessed with prosperity from stars above as all sorts of scents belonging to delicious prey wafted into his nose. Ha, he thought gleefully, this hunting trip could only turn out one way: his jaws filled with prey as he dropped them onto the pile and retired to his den after a purposeful day of work. He smiled at the thought of that. Time to focus on the actual hunting, he decided, angling his ears around to detect for any rustling nearby. Aha! After treading quietly for a while, he came across a thrush, tweeting on a low branch. Flintforge stared at it for a moment, deducting how high he would have to spring, before tensing his muscles, preparing for the jump. Thwack! The branch snapped upon contact with Flint’s paws, and he nipped the struggling little flutter’s neck quickly, hastily thanking Starclan as he always did. It seemed like the loud crack had startled the animals within a distance, so he buried the thrush and walked deeper through the forest. He hadn’t walked long when he came across a clearing amidst the woods. A stone cave carved into the wall of a mountain stood, dark and inviting. Guessing he was at the foot of a mountain, he treaded closer, cautious and wary. Coming closer, there was a pile of the most peculiar items near the entrance of the cave. A blue sweater, which after some difficulty, he managed to push his head through and wriggle it onto his body, before finally allowing his wings to flutter free once he found the two openings placed perfectly above his shoulders. It itched against his skin yet alighted a sense of excitement he’d never felt before, and he turned around in circles to admire it fully. Turning his gaze away from his sweater to the second item, he pawed at it with curiosity, examining its cleanly carved edges. It seemed to be something like a hatchet, or pickaxe, yes- a pickaxe, but its sides were shaped in a weird, blocky sort of way that rendered it useless. He ran his paw over the edges, relishing at the coolness and the satisfyingly sharp and refined corners. The handle was made of wood that was smooth to touch, and the head, judging from the black colour and reflective nature, wasn’t hard to tell it was made of obsidian. Well, at least that made up partially for the disappointment of its lack of usefulness- the strong qualities of obsidian would still be able to chip off a considerably large piece of stone if it needed to. He fastened it to the belt he had found conveniently at the waist part of his sweater. << cont in notes and credits >>