who needs sleep? [border patrol]

[Dusk]

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[atrb=background, i339.photobucket.com/albums/n480/Shardclaw/orangebackground.jpg] At this time of night the clan was mostly silent, with few cats up and about to give the clearing life. The only activity came from the entrance of camp, where the typical guard stood watch, shifting on occasion to fight off sleep until their replacement came near the approach of dawn. Overhead only a sliver of moon shone down to bathe the moors in a faint wash of silver light. Better, at least, than the blazing sun which now dominated the days that weren't filled with clouds and rain. Hot and humid during the day, still humid during the night but not so hot as to send a cat panting when partaking in their usual duties. In a way, being assigned to the moon-high patrol was a blessing rather than a groan-inducing activity. But it's blessing only went so far, after all the timing of the patrol still meant any warrior assigned to it had to sacrifice sleep. One said warrior now raised a tabby-striped head, blinking sleep from his pale yellow eyes as he forced himself out of a pleasant doze. The tom stumbled drunkenly to his feet, jaws parting in a wide yawn. The light brown tabby glanced around the clearing wearily, he'd never gone to sleep, choosing to lie down on the edge of the camp and rest his eyes but not take chances with sleeping past the time when he'd have to gather the other patrol members. Havocflare walked slowly to the warrior's den, growing more focused as he got blood flowing readily to his limbs again. Looking into the den, he glanced over the various sleeping forms before spotting the one he wanted: a muscular, shaggy-furred form reminiscent of his brother in all aspects accept the precise color of his fur. He stepped neatly into the den, carefully working his way around the other resting cats to avoid trodding on any tails. He lowered his head and nudged the warrior he wanted. "Dustedhawk, time for the moon-high patrol," his voice was a low whisper. The tom waited a moment to be sure that the older cat was waking before turning his focus to the rest of the warriors. He frowned, brow furrowing in focus as his gaze failed to spot a pale orange pelt in the den. Peering further into the darkness he finally spotted the younger tabby towards the back of the shelter, with a good number of other sleeping felines blocking off any easy path to him. It would be too much of a hassle to attempt maneuvering past all the cats, chances of him not waking any of them up were slim. "Runningfox!" The tom hissed through his teeth, raising his voice slightly to assure that it carried to the sleeping tabby. "Patrol." Satisfied that the two toms would be ready in a few moments the tom stepped out of the den throwing a "And please grab your apprentices if it's not too much trouble," over his shoulder before walking away. Padding to the center of the clearing, the tom sat and waited for the arrival of his companions for the night. The tom set to grooming his tuft-furred pelt, idly contemplating the patrol members. Dustedhawk, Runningfox, Rustlepaw, and Dunepaw...' Two things stuck out to the tom as the thought rang out in his head. First, the other two warriors in the patrol were both kin to Ripplesurf -Havocflare noted it as an amusing coincidence - and second, all the patrol members were male. That second observation wasn't so amusing to the senior warrior. The clan was looking a bit deprived in female warriors; hopefully some kits would change that sooner or later. The tom gave a sudden jerk, realizing he'd started to drift into sleep as he gave into the rhythmic motions of grooming. He grimaced, not wanting to pace and look impatient as he waited for the arrival of the others, but he didn't want to be idling and nodding off as he stood stock still. Hopefully everyone would be gathered round soon and the "dilemna" would resolve itself. ooc: no Dune post from me until Runningfox goes to wake him up