White Tiger
Dedicated Member
Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love. -Jane Austen
Posts: 51
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Post by White Tiger on Dec 27, 2007 18:57:50 GMT 1
Rusty. Shingles falling off. Covered with plywood. Tarp to cover the holes and make a crude trap door. But Tiger could only think of it this way: shelter. As Tiger sat on a housetop, his tail twitching, his lips moving as he finished his latest meal: a rat he had found in the streets. Poor thing. Time to end its pity. A growl rose in his throat as he realised how helpless he was to be seeking shelter on a rooftop. Well, it was out of the way, fairly disguised, and since he moved around, hard to find him. He didn't care about meetings unless he was summoned. This wasn't his way of waging war. He was a spy. He wasn't concerned unless it was something to be concerned about. He wasn't going to get an apartment. His argument: Why should I? It's open to be burned or I could get caught. Easy to find. Too easy. Chuckling heartilily at the foolishness of his comrades, he leaped to the rooftop of the Ghost Block as only a tiger could, his claws gripping to keep him on the rough surface.
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