private I GET NO F.O.M.O! | MUDPELT (MOSS BALL CHAMPIONSHIP)

[Steepsnout]

WE'RE TAKING OVER THE WORLD, A LITTLE VICTIMLESS CRIME ➳​

Steepkit skipped towards the nursery with purpose. A single white tooth curved from her maw, the others hidden behind an enormous clump of moss. One half of the textured surface was dripping with water, a sure sign that it had been freshly stripped from the riverbank. Despite the obstruction, the kit's smile was clear to see.

"Da'! Da', 've 'oos bol!" Words muffled, she flicked her blunt ears back and forth. A wiggle of excitement, an attempt to tempt Mudpelt out with her. The moment she had grabbed his attention the cargo was dropped and her schpeal began, "I saw these other cats playing with moss! Do you know how? It looked awesome" Her father was the one she went to for any games, whether it was him teaching her or vice versa.

After a beat of buzzing about the entrance, Steepkit came to a slow. She was beginning to learn that there was a time and place for her enthusiasm. Trying her best to hold it in- to be patient for his response- the magpie molly puffed up her throat in a breath and tucked her tail beneath her paws. Oh she hoped he'd say yes!​

 

[MUDPELT]

His daughter is swift to snag his attention, wrapped around her paw as he is. He looks to her curiously as she drops the clump of moss and begins to state that she wants to learn to play. Immediately, a half-grin cracks his maw and he lets out a puff of air, head held high. "Steepkit, you're looking at the king of mossball. I practically invented it!" Wrong. He lowers his chest to the ground in a play bow, a flicker of mischief in his amber eyes. He and the black and white she-kit have developed a certain kind of competitive relationship - he knew she would take anything he threw at her and run full charge with it. "There are lots of ways to play! One, for example..." He flicks out a paw and immediately hooks the moss, tossing it high into the air. "Don't let it touch the ground!" ​

 

[Steepsnout]

WE'RE TAKING OVER THE WORLD, A LITTLE VICTIMLESS CRIME ➳​

Of course he had invented it! She couldn't linger on that revelation however, as a slick paw flung the moss into the air. A sucked breath of disbelief condensed into a lungful of determination. Don't let it touch the ground he says, oh it was on. The ball's trajectory remained uncertain until it began its pummet back down and so Steepkit was forced to skitter to and fro to track it. The instant she noticed where it would land- there- the black and white kit leapt, bopping it back up.

The moss was shot at an angle, her unpracticed paw unable to control it, towards Mudpelt's shoulder. She had a feeling her dad would get it though, it was slow. Gotta work on smacking it back harder, she resolved.

"Okay King of Mossball! I want that crown!" Ears flat, stance wide, Steepkit was ready for the battle of her life​

 

[MUDPELT]

His smirk grows as his tomboyish daughter smacks the ball back to him. It sails through the air, and his eyes never leave it. Surprisingly light on his feet despite his bulky size, Mudpelt dances lightly into position. A powerful swipe sends the mossball back towards Steepkit, but not before he shouts praise at her. "Nice shot!" He shuffles backwards, dropping into a crouch with his rump high in the air, a playful stance.​

 

[Steepsnout]

WE'RE TAKING OVER THE WORLD, A LITTLE VICTIMLESS CRIME ➳​

The praise emboldens her, a surge of energy that rushes to meet the flying object. So bold of a retaliation, that Steepkit rams her nose into the ball midair. Inhaling a laugh she scrambles, aloft, trying to balance the moss between her paws. It slips once, twice but then- she hooks it. Plunging back to the floor, her shoulder knocked against the floor eliciting a quiet 'oomf'. On her back now, the kit looks over her white stomach at her father with wide eyes

"Di'ya see that? I got it!" Punctuating her glee she rocked on her back, building momentum before shooting the moss ball forward. Sheathing her claw at the last moment, it's released from her grip and sent barrelling toward Mudpelt.​