private doin' time — scorchpaw

[SNAKEHISS]

For whatever reason, Badgermoon had requested that Snakehiss take his daughter out on a hunt in WindClan's territory. Perhaps he was feeling too groggy to proceed with training at the time, perhaps he had other matters to attend to, or maybe he wanted to see how his former apprentice got along with his new one. Whatever the case was, Snakehiss was less than thrilled to oblige, though he didn't bother with throwing a fit about it. Maybe the session would go by quicker than he anticipated.

The walk is silent, for the most part, as there's not much for them to talk about. How is training with Badgermoon, a curious part of him yearns to ask. Has he already forgotten about me?

Damned, idiotic harebrain! Snakehiss curses himself, a mental conflict ensuing in his brain. Why should he give a rat's behind about Scorchpaw and Badgermoon's business? The bi-colored deputy had been a teacher to him and nothing more. Their training had been completed, with Snakehiss successfully passing his assessment. It was best to move on and enjoy the beginnings of his warriorhood.

The pair moved toward the area surrounding Outlook Rock now, rays of sunshine aggressively beating down on their backs. A cautionary gaze surveys the top of the landmark. From what he could see, nothing was up there at the moment, but he knew from experience that a lot could change in an instant. "Take care around these parts. Hawks like to perch up there, looking for small cats to steal." Scorchpaw could certainly be a prime candidate for a bird of prey's lunch, especially since she was still quite young. Bitterly, selfishly, he briefly wonders if that would be a bad thing.

Calling back on the incident where Cottonpaw had skittered out of the tunnels and recklessly exposed herself to the feasting eyes of a hawk, Snakehiss huffs, "Nearly happened to Cottonpaw once." With a flick of his tail, he advanced toward the massive rock and sniffed the air for any prey lingering nearby.

// @SCORCHPAW ​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Maybe Badgermoon has faith in his recently-graduated apprentice to train his newest one, but frankly, Scorchpaw doesn't see it.

She follows without complaint, of course, because she carries out any order without complaint; she will join Snakehiss on this outing and suffer it gladly. Perhaps they are alike in that way, obedient without question (though Snakehiss seems to have quite the sharp tongue, so much that he was even named for it). She can't say she is fond of that overlap. She holds little true ire for the ebony-pelted warrior, but she finds his quips angering at the worst of times, and distasteful at the best of them. StarClan, she prays, let us hunt without a hitch.

Scorchpaw basks in their shared silence, and quietly she hopes that it might last for the duration of their patrol. Unfortunately, those hopes are dashed when they reach Outlook Rock, though Scorchpaw does not immediately register the tom's warning. She is instead taken by the height of the boulder before her, the way the sun warmed it and radiated off each indifferent facet. And, of course, it looks fun to climb-- though it is at this point that the girl recognizes what has been said.

"Hawks?" she echoes, and casts her gaze again to the skies above. Maybe StarClan is watching the two of them now; she sees no threatening silhouette, but all the same, apprehension sets the pace of her heart. She is a small cat (though not small enough, she laments), and the image of being... snatched away so easily chills her to the crimson core. She does not recall Cottonpaw's close encounter; if she was born at all, she had been blind and deaf to the world at the time it had happened. She can imagine the feeling of talons at her ribs, piercing and plucking all at once, the receding ground beneath her as the bird carries her to whatever hungry mouths it must feed. Part of her wonders if it is really all that cruel. After all, the hawk mother has babies she must care for, just as Scorchstreak cares for her. But she must admit that she does not want to become some creature's dinner.

Her appraising gaze flicks back to Snakehiss; she follows his example as he sniffs around for lingering prey, though her nose is not so discerning as to find any. She ruminates on his statement, imagining Cottonpaw again in the clutches of predatory talons. Now that she's been warned, though, she is no doubt smarter than the stone-blue apprentice. Bitterly, she imagines the girl tunneling below her, Scorchstreak leading the way. It should have been Scorchpaw in those tunnels, but instead she's stuck with stupid Snakehiss fearing that hawks might steal her away. "I'm smarter than Cottonpaw," she asserts placidly, as if she thinks nothing of the fact. "I won't get caught."​

​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

Perhaps hypocritically, her kit-like cockiness irritates him as she reassures him that she is "smarter than Cottonpaw" and won't have a similar fate. Now, Snakehiss would like for a raptor to swoop down and clutch her in its talons just to witness a look of sheer terror upon her face. That would teach her a thing or two. Ah, but she was Badgermoon's new favorite, wasn't she? She'd find a way out because she was so special, wasn't she? "If you're so sure," Snakepaw remarks lowly, twitching the tip of his tail in an irked fashion.

The newly-named warrior decides to begin hunting before he begins to boil over like a bubbling hot spring. Plenty of composure was required for a successful catch, was it not? The nearby smell of a rodent causes Snakehiss to drop into a hunting crouch, execution nothing more than average if not a little rigid. Brewing emotions in his gut as well as taut muscles wracked his body as he stalked forth toward the source of the mouthwatering aroma. His midday snack was within reach now...

Pounce!

Snakehiss lands on the ground, just barely missing the mouse and scrambling his paws in a desperate last-second attempt to pin the rodent under his claws, though to no avail. "Foxdung." He was so sure he had it! Was it because Scorchpaw was here, clumsily kicking pebbles in her wake or causing the grasses to rustle? Tunnelers weren't as well-versed in the ways of hunting above-ground, anyway. It was all her fault. Everything was her fault; the reason why he had to work double-time to prove himself worthy to high ranks who would much rather favor their own flesh and blood. The reason why Badgermoon couldn't give less of a damn about him anymore.

"Watch where you step, yeah?" A sharp order cuts through the air, directed toward the walking amalgamation of flame and pitch-black sky as the midnight-colored warrior whips his head over his shoulder. He almost appears as cross as his namesake, and the end of his tail would undoubtedly be rattling if he had one.

// just to be clear, it's up to you whether scorch actually scared the prey off or not but snake is blaming her anyway like the petty bastard he is ​