[attr="class","adrie-c"]

[attr="class","adrie-img"]

[attr="class","adrie-img2"]

[attr="class","inner-finally"]Bullwasp was settled just outside the warrior's den, feathery plume coiled around his frontal quarters. The warrior's crania was held high, deep amber gaze surveying over his clanmates as the evening casualties transpired, such as sharing tongues and typical chatter among the clan. For a moment, he shifted his barren stare toward the sky overhead. Dusk was coming, and the sun was setting. The wind was bellowing through the woodland of OrchidClan, causing the canopy to sway back and forth as if they were dancing to its melody. The leaves rustled and rumored, accummulating an eerie sound that sent shivers down his spine. It was feel-good chills, where he rose to all fours and gave his physique a shake. The sky was overshadowed, and the palls were moving quickly, driven by the powerful gusts of wind. The ambiance was nippy, and he could feel the cold biting at his skin when the zephyrs tickled his pelt. The last rays flickered and faded as darkness swamped the foundation where he stood, and the glooms they cast dissipated completely. It was nightfall that made Bullwasp feel small and insignificant in the facade of the strength of nature.

Bullwasp believed the dusk comes as a promise of light and newcomings, of those brilliant pearls of the nighttime that sit as if cushioned upon pure black velvet. Those pearls were also his ancestors. He wondered what StarClan was like, and how his ancestors looked down upon the Clans. Dusk was Bullwasp's favorite time of the day. When the last sun-rays of the day kiss the heathland, the greens and purples melt into grey under the moonlight, that's when the warren empties and the rabbits are out to forage and play, alongside other prey. They move slowly, lolloping in their ungainly way, grazing as they go. It was a great time to hunt, though not when it got cold. To Bullwasp's knowledge, rodents were sensitive to bitter temperatures, retreating to burrows and hollowed stumps; anywhere to preserve warmth. At the slightest noise they're up on their hind legs, black eyes staring in more directions than they, as predator animals can. The atmosphere above was a breathtaking sight to behold, especially when viewed from a vantage point like a hilltop or the ShoreClan cliffs. As the sun sets, the temperature declines, creating a subdued and tranquil environment. It's a perfect time for relaxation and reflection, and a great opportunity to appreciate the beauty of nature.

Though, at this time, he had more concentrations; the dusk patrol. Bullwasp, and a few others were to accompany him while they assessed the territory for trespassors or other predators and potential hazards. The behemoth sire trudged outside of camp, slipping through the thicket which obscured OrchidClan camp. Bullwasp was looking forward to the patrol, although, he wasn't sure if his mate, Marigoldbreath, and daughter, Sheepcloud, had felt the same. He may not have loved Marigoldbreath on the level he desired to, though he cared deeply for the damsel. Bethrothed love wasn't the greatest to begin with; he naturally felt most would be unrequited or disfavored by both parties. Bullwasp couldn't entirely grasp those confusing internalizations of his feelings toward his presumed mate. Their relationship was complicated, and primarily due to his own disregard. He swallowed thickly as the pessimistic thoughts submerged his brain, restlessly awaiting for his fellow clanmates to join him for the dusk patrol.

Before he'd realized it, Bullwasp was pacing back and forth, a few fox-lengths between his back and forth pathway. He was retracing his pawsteps in the soft, loamy soil, visage locked in on his steps until the sound of rustling struck his ears. Someone, or they had arrived. "Evening, shall we begin?" He questioned, stopped in his path, as he slowly turned toward the sound.