a lil somethin' for your troubles // Toad Prowl


They Will Be a Legacy!
Jun 7, 2022

Ah hunting. A practice that cats have done from the start of the world! Prepped with sharp claws, venemous fangs and a large leap; cats had always been able to fend for themselves. Taking down the mightiest of owls to the smallest of mice, it was second nature to many cats. Except for one specific cat, hunting had always been difficult. Never moving quiet enough or stepping into a puddle making noise always seemed to be the result for a cinnamon tabby. Today seemed to be no different as the skinny body moved around a bush, paws sinking into marshy ground underpaw, and amber eyes narrowed onto a frog that idly sat by another puddle. Seeming unaware of the cat that was about to be upon them, but like in true fashion a paw misstepped onto that of a stick.

The crunch echoed loudly in the otherwise quiet forest, and alerted the frog to the arrival of a predator. Quickly hopping away but the skinny form rushed forward to run after the green animal to try and capture it regardless. Though the slick skin of the frog slipped through pink paw pads and white claws before vanishing into a deeper body of water. A hiss came from the skinny cat and she lashed out at the water with a paw, splashing herself in the face with murky water. Sighing heavily, her ears dropped as did her tail at her failure of a hunt. Why wasn't she good at this? She couldn't hunt, barely could fight; what was her purpose? Flintfur always assured her she was in the right spot in life, but lately it felt so useless. Sandra was a useless member of her group.

Turning away from the water, Sandra moved to head back to the trail she had been following. So much for that catch and she wondered if her partner on this hunt had done any better. Toad Prowl wa sa rather grouchy cat, but he was a good member of the group. Always seeming to have some sort of catch, great in a fight, the ideal of what a cat should be. Something Sandra was not it seemed. "Toad? Did you manage to catch anything?" She called out for the tomcat.
[ I Use To Hear A Simple Song ]
Sheep white paws press silently into the murk as Toad's Prowl slithers across damp grass and over murky, stagnant pools. The call of a crow echoed through the humid air, the croaks of frogs, toads, and crickets, though most seemed out of reach. He pauses as nostrils flare, catching a fresh scent, that of a lizard that crawled along mossy stone nearby. Quietly, the tabby draws closer, fangs glinting in the misty light as he stalks after his prey. The lizard was fortunate, though. A feline voice cuts through the silence, questioning whether or not Toad's Prowl had caught anything, and the lizard promptly skitters away. He's frowning, scowling, really, as he turned his head back to face Sandra with an annoyed glare.

"Almost." The tom responds dryly, flicking mud from a stained front paw as a sigh blows past his teeth. Well, there was no sense in sticking around this particular area, now that all the prey had been so promptly frightened off. "Let's try the stream." Toad's Prowl suggests with a flick of his tail. Maybe the running water would drown out any noise his unfortunate hunting partner might make.​

Pointed ears flicked backwards as a small 'oops' came from the cinnamon tabby. She hadn't meant to scare away what he had been hunting down, but then again she never meant to do a lot of things. Giving a small nod, Sandra followed after Toad's Prowl when he suggested they go to the stream for something. Suppose there would be food there? Maybe they could try fishing! Sandra was okay at fishing, sitting still wasn't difficult but the timing was.

Silence lapsed between them as they walked and she searched for something to talk about. What could they talk about? Toad's Prowl wasn't exactly the most friendly of cats, and the only real thing going on was that of the Pine group that had taken up space in the forest. Sandra looked down at her paws as she walked and offered meekly the conversation topic of, "Do you think we'll find anything by the stream? With that new group in the forest, it has been harder to find food," An underlying tone of her apology for scaring the lizard off was thick.
[ I Use To Hear A Simple Song ]
The song of the wetlands fills his ears as he makes his way toward the stream, mud staining cotton-white paws and matting earthen hued fur. He flicks an ear when his hunting companion speaks again. He's still agitated that she had scared off his lizard, but he swallows the bitter sensation down, because he could give her a second chance, despite his doubtful personality.

"There's usually frogs by the stream." He responds with a flick of his striped tail. In terms of fish, they wouldn't find much more than minnows or tadpoles, but anything was better than nothing. Blasted pine-group. Toad's Prowl wishes they'd just move on already. "Maybe even a water vole." Those were much rarer, but his mouth watered at the thought. He could already hear the stream's trickle up ahead, and his paws drove him onward a bit faster.​