Jul 11, 2022

The tall grass rustled around her slightly as Kestrel crept forward, its movement the only sign of her presence. Her gaze was locked on the prey that each step took her towards, a lone rabbit. It was going to be a good catch too, she could already tell. The creature was fat and plump, having feasted on the grasses of the moors. A catch like that would feed her whole family.

"Yeah, stay riiight there you stupid. little. shit." She whispered just under her breath, grinning to herself. Her whiskers twitched as she inched closer. It's scent hung so heavy in the air that she could practically taste it already. The rabbit stilled as she approached. Then, suddenly, its head whipped toward her. They locked eyes.

"Fuck." She muttered.

It bolted and she followed, bursting from the grass and hitting the ground running. She was gaining on it quickly, every moment closing the distance a little more. There was no question about whether she would win the chase. Still, if it found a burrow to duck into, that wouldn't matter. She pushed her pace until she was practically breathing down its neck, just inches away from getting the kill.

All she needed was another second, and she'd have it.
  • Like
Reactions: Marquette
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ He's a long way from home, though the word is as distant to him as a star or the moon. The horse nest and its surroundings have grown cloistering, tiresome, and Weasel has taken to the moorland beyond. He finds himself enjoying the wind-battered plains and hills more and more on each excursion, and he's grown a taste for rabbit.

They're not easy to catch. He has lived his life eating stolen meat scraps and hunting mice that live in the barn, and mice require a different approach altogether. Here, on the cottony tail of a rabbit, he's got to chase, and they're faster than they look. He's building speed, slowly but surely, but he's successfully only managed a single caught rabbit, and he thinks it might have been lame.

Weasel's blue eyes narrow as they fall on the thumping run of a small buck. Not as tall as some of the ones he's attempted to hunt before, but round with stolen grain from the horses, on the seeds and herbs of the moor. He salivates, licks his lips, and drops into a crouch. His muscles tingle with the prospect of the chase.

He waits for it to near him--it seems it's heading straight for him, and he questions whether it will even be safe to eat if he catches it. Is it braindead? Rotting from the inside? Perhaps it's blind, he thinks, and can't distinguish my pelt from the grass?

Regardless, Weasel darts from his sparse cover and the creature squeals with fear. His teeth puncture its throat and it goes limp and quiet almost immediately. The tabby lifts his head with his new burden, triumphant, when he locks eyes with a she-cat who is about to crash into him.

From out of nowhere, a brown shape darted out and snatched her prey right out from under her. Her gaze locked, for a moment, with two blue eyes before momentum propelled her right into him. Though she could not immediately tell how much she connected with him, for her part she was sent tumbling. As fast as she could manage, she scrambled to her paws. Turning on the thief with fury writ across her features as she spit out dirt. "Fucker!" she snarled at the tom now holding her rabbit. "What kind of prey-stealing, no good, dirty, foxheart are you, huh!?"

Adrenaline still pumped in her veins as she glared down the brown tabby. As was so often the case for her, her mouth was working faster than her brain. Translating all her energy and frustration for her. "What, can't catch a rabbit on your own so you lie in wait for someone else to do all the work for you!?" she accused hotly.

Once her brain caught up with her words, she knew she didn't believe that. It was an absurd idea. More likely, he just hadn't seen her. She wasn't going to say that though. That would be backing down, and righteous indignation meant that wasn't an option. Besides, it was still his fault for stealing prey right out from under her. Anyone with eyes could have seen that was her kill. If he didn't wanna get berated, he should have paid a lick of attention to what he was doing.

Served him right really.
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ Before his brain can summon a single thought, the other feline collides into him face first. She rolls away from the impact, and Weasel is left standing, his face--particularly his nose--smarting. He lifts a paw and rubs it gingerly, frowning. What sort of idiot--

And she leaps to her paws, furious. She stalks towards him with venom flying from her maw like saliva. "What kind of prey-stealing, no good, dirty foxheart are you, huh?"

He blinks at her, too stunned to react for a moment. And then his own hackles rise, and he adopts a furious crouch. "How'd I steal your prey, mousebrain? I'm the one who caught it! Besides, you don't own this place." The urge to spit in her face is almost too strong to resist.

"What, can't catch a rabbit on your own?"

Weasel hisses. It's too close to the truth, and it stings his already-wounded pride. "At least I can tell where I'm going. What kind of grown adult crashes into someone? Am I invisible, or what?" He lashes his striped tail. Avoiding a fight is the last thing on his mind right now.

To meet her words, the tom's hackles rose and Kestrel had to resist the urge to take a step back. For all her bluster, she knew she wouldn't win in a fight. She could hunt as well as the rest of them, but when it came to battle she was just about useless. If they came to blows, she'd fall just as easily as the rabbit had. It was frankly humiliating.

That was what made her maddest of all.

Though, the tom's brainless comments weren't exactly calming her fury either. A snarl built up in the back of her throat as she listened to his blabbering. "In all the- Idiot, why exactly do you think that rabbit came running right into your paws, huh? Think it just took a liking to you, dirt for brains? Honestly, before you killed the pitiful creature it probably had more going on in its head than you do!" she sneered disdainfully.

Her tail lashed at his final accusation. "You stepped out in front of me!" she spat back indignantly, her voice brimming with frustration. The fact this imbecile actually thought he had done nothing wrong was infuriating. How could someone be so deluded? "It's not my fault your eyes work about as well as your brain does."
He resists the urge to lunge at her and teach her a lesson in insulting a perfect stranger, but his muscles are tensing with each fresh insult. "Look, lady, I don't know what to tell you. I might've considered sharing if you hadn't acted like a complete--" He hisses instead of finishing his sentence, punctuating it with fury.

He puts his paw protectively over the dead rabbit and meets her glare head on. "But if you really think you deserve it, come take it." He lashes his long thin tail so it waves like a striped banner behind him.


"Oh great, you were gonna share the prey that should have been mine to begin with. How gracious." Kestrel snarked as her tail lashed behind her. It was becoming clearer and clearer this tom was the worst kind of moron. The variety that thought themselves to be oh so put upon and righteous. It made her sick.

Not that she could do anything about it. Desperately, she wanted to rise to his challenge and fight him for the prey that should of been hers. Throwing herself at him claws and teeth first was her heart's greatest desire. Yet she didn't. Because however much she wished it wasn't the case, so long as he had basic coordination and skill, she would lose.

"Fine. She spat in his direction. "If you need that rabbit so bad you can have it. Consider it a bit of charity from me, I'm not going to fight you over it. Because, unlike you, I can actually catch another all. On. My. Own!" With that last word she turned and stormed off, with no intent to try and catch anything despite what she had said. She needed to cool off first, or her anger would thwart her efforts. In one fell swoop she had lost her catch and her dignity.

At the very least, she wouldn't have to see that guy again.