- Jun 1, 2023
- 135
- 28
- 28
With the announcement of this upcoming journey, Luckypaw knows his fate is now set in stone - in no world could he take back his decision, take back the anxious conviction, even if he wanted to. And oh, oh, does he want to, just as badly as he's glad that he did it; just as much as he regrets stepping up, he knows there wasn't anything else to do. If he stays here, well...the sick only get sicker, cats falling ill every day, and even if he doesn't want their only hope to rest on his shoulders, it has to rest on someone, doesn't it? He won't be the leader of this expedition, not in the slightest, and though hardly reassuring, he'll take any solace he can get, his whole body thrumming with nervous energy. Hardly had he slept that night, knowing what was to come, but that was only another thing to add to his growing pile of regrets, somewhere deep down in his chest. Just because they would all be leaving soon (never to return, maybe, the voice he tries, and fails, to ignore whispers) doesn't mean that training is going to let up - no, quite frankly, he can use all the training he can fit into the days before the next gathering, and so he follows Cygnetstare even more attentively than usual, silently buzzing as he tries to keep up with her instruction even as thoughts threaten to swallow him alive. What would the journey be like, he wonders? How different were the mountains, that lungwort grew there even when it didn't flower here and now? Of course, he can't forget that they're to be working with the other Clans, too - would they stay cordial, or would they try to pick fights, to take WindClan down and take the cure for themselves?
Normally, he's quite attentive to lessons, and since the badger fight, he's quickly improved upon keeping his senses carefully trained on his surroundings, but things aren't quite normal anymore. It's only when a new scent starts to tickle his nose that he realizes exactly what's going on - there's a rabbit nearby, and Cygnetstare clearly isn't prepping to go after it, so evidently the task must fall to him. If they'd offered him any encouragement, any helpful tips, he's missed them amidst his own thoughts, and Luckypaw swallows dryly, glancing down the yawning abyss where his prey must lie. Hunting very obviously is not his strong suit, having not caught anything at all even as Scorchpaw's been succeeding for what feels like moons, and even though they've been trying to work on it, he's not particularly hopeful about his progress. It just - it was hard, having to know the tunnels and having to know where the rabbit was going to go next. If he slipped up, if he careened too sharply around a bend, well...the darkness ahead feels more looming than ever, now that he knows gaping holes in the ground and vicious predators lurk within their depths. Not even was he successful on the moors, either; that had proven to be a real misadventure, and more than anything, a continual blow to his confidence. He couldn't catch a rabbit even out in the open - how, then, could he have the nerve to race through the tunnels and take one down with so many hidden threats?
What else is there to do but try, though? Luckypaw can't say no to Cygnetstare, can't bring himself to tell them that he's not ready - not when, if he were the one to decide, he likely wouldn't ever feel ready. He wonders whether she can sense his nerves, whether the entirety of the tunnel system can, and then he's off, turning down the tunnel in the direction of the scent on soft paws. Immediately, his training begins to kick in, nose and ears working overtime even as his tail silently brushes the wall, keeping track of his relative position to where he can guess the rabbit is. They're not too far away from camp, thankfully, so he knows these tunnels fairly well - probably more than fairly well, but there's always more to learn, always more to know, and he wouldn't want to have to rely on his memory in an emergency. His movements feel clumsy, and he's surely stumbled upon every possible pebble in his path, and yet - the rabbit is still there. This he knows, from his senses and from something deep inside him. It's like the butterfly hunt with Thriftpaw, he tells himself, trying to soothe his heartbeat even as it picks up. Could this - was this actually going to work? As he draws ever nearer to his quarry, he's learned from his past failures - Luckypaw is still just as much as he's moving, always gauging where the rabbit is, and when he's about as close as he was out on the moors, the apprentice draws to a stop completely. Willing his legs not to tremble, his paws not to fail him, he takes in a deep, silent breath; one last moment to remember where he is, where the tunnels ahead lead, and then he breaks into a sprint.
The sound of his own paws hitting the dirt fills his ears, and for a moment he's worried he's lost the rabbit amidst the din - but no, his pawsteps aren't alone, not anymore. Just as desperately as he gives chase, the rabbit runs, stout legs well-adapted to quick and steady maneuvering. There's no longer any time to wonder, no more room for self-depreciating thoughts - in his core, he knows that if he wastes even a moment to think of anything other than what he needs to continue the pursuit, all will be lost. He's careening around bends, every move calculated exactly, every step falling into line, and now the adrenaline's truly setting in, exhilaration and elation and drive taking over, pushing him onwards. The rabbit is quick, making split-second turns and dips that he'd hardly believe if he weren't following just as quickly, making those turns himself. They're not perfect, a little ground lost every time the curve is too sharp, but impossibly, he makes up for it when the tunnel straightens out, legs moving as if they were crafted with this very moment in mind. It's crafty, too, or at least it seems like it when it ducks last-second into the other side of a fork, and this is what truly solidifies his resolve - it's a near-thing, but he follows after it, whipping and whirling and rocketing through the correct tunnel. He's going to catch this rabbit - this, Luckypaw knows, even inexplicably so. Not after all this will he be content to let it slip out of his grasp - there's no chance that he can return empty-pawed.
They're getting ever-closer to camp, he thinks, and he's growing ever-closer to his prey. It feels like hours, chasing after it, though surely it can't be more than a minute or two at the most; already, his paws can feel the strain, legs pushed as hard as they can go, and yet with the final stretch just before him, he pushes harder, summoning everything in him to move just a little faster. This move pays off almost immediately - the distance between them is so short, he can practically feel the rabbit's scruffy pelt, can almost sink his claws right in. He's not going to get a better opportunity than this, he realizes, and so, with claws outstretched, he sends himself forward with a mighty leap, dirt-strewn pelt meeting dirt-strewn pelt. Claws meet flesh, and as he finds purchase, the pair go rolling forward, straight out of a tunnel entrance and onto the moors. Though dazzled by the sudden change in light, Luckypaw doesn't let it keep him from his task, claws still sunken into flesh pulling the rabbit closer, close enough to finally dispatch it. He hunches over the catch, panting in the sunlight, and it doesn't even register what he's done 'till the thick scent of blood reaches his nose, the metallic taste only just gracing his tongue. He had...he had caught the rabbit. He had caught the rabbit, all on his own. It wasn't exactly graceful, it wasn't particularly elegant, but it was his catch, his own work. "I caught it. I caught the rabbit!" Somewhere deep in his chest, something lightens, as evinced by the gleeful, wide grin laid bare to anyone around to see it.
//Optional mentor tag: @cygnetstare (but feel free to post; this isn't PAFP!)
TLDR: Luckypaw catches his first rabbit just outside of the mouth of one of the tunnels
Normally, he's quite attentive to lessons, and since the badger fight, he's quickly improved upon keeping his senses carefully trained on his surroundings, but things aren't quite normal anymore. It's only when a new scent starts to tickle his nose that he realizes exactly what's going on - there's a rabbit nearby, and Cygnetstare clearly isn't prepping to go after it, so evidently the task must fall to him. If they'd offered him any encouragement, any helpful tips, he's missed them amidst his own thoughts, and Luckypaw swallows dryly, glancing down the yawning abyss where his prey must lie. Hunting very obviously is not his strong suit, having not caught anything at all even as Scorchpaw's been succeeding for what feels like moons, and even though they've been trying to work on it, he's not particularly hopeful about his progress. It just - it was hard, having to know the tunnels and having to know where the rabbit was going to go next. If he slipped up, if he careened too sharply around a bend, well...the darkness ahead feels more looming than ever, now that he knows gaping holes in the ground and vicious predators lurk within their depths. Not even was he successful on the moors, either; that had proven to be a real misadventure, and more than anything, a continual blow to his confidence. He couldn't catch a rabbit even out in the open - how, then, could he have the nerve to race through the tunnels and take one down with so many hidden threats?
What else is there to do but try, though? Luckypaw can't say no to Cygnetstare, can't bring himself to tell them that he's not ready - not when, if he were the one to decide, he likely wouldn't ever feel ready. He wonders whether she can sense his nerves, whether the entirety of the tunnel system can, and then he's off, turning down the tunnel in the direction of the scent on soft paws. Immediately, his training begins to kick in, nose and ears working overtime even as his tail silently brushes the wall, keeping track of his relative position to where he can guess the rabbit is. They're not too far away from camp, thankfully, so he knows these tunnels fairly well - probably more than fairly well, but there's always more to learn, always more to know, and he wouldn't want to have to rely on his memory in an emergency. His movements feel clumsy, and he's surely stumbled upon every possible pebble in his path, and yet - the rabbit is still there. This he knows, from his senses and from something deep inside him. It's like the butterfly hunt with Thriftpaw, he tells himself, trying to soothe his heartbeat even as it picks up. Could this - was this actually going to work? As he draws ever nearer to his quarry, he's learned from his past failures - Luckypaw is still just as much as he's moving, always gauging where the rabbit is, and when he's about as close as he was out on the moors, the apprentice draws to a stop completely. Willing his legs not to tremble, his paws not to fail him, he takes in a deep, silent breath; one last moment to remember where he is, where the tunnels ahead lead, and then he breaks into a sprint.
The sound of his own paws hitting the dirt fills his ears, and for a moment he's worried he's lost the rabbit amidst the din - but no, his pawsteps aren't alone, not anymore. Just as desperately as he gives chase, the rabbit runs, stout legs well-adapted to quick and steady maneuvering. There's no longer any time to wonder, no more room for self-depreciating thoughts - in his core, he knows that if he wastes even a moment to think of anything other than what he needs to continue the pursuit, all will be lost. He's careening around bends, every move calculated exactly, every step falling into line, and now the adrenaline's truly setting in, exhilaration and elation and drive taking over, pushing him onwards. The rabbit is quick, making split-second turns and dips that he'd hardly believe if he weren't following just as quickly, making those turns himself. They're not perfect, a little ground lost every time the curve is too sharp, but impossibly, he makes up for it when the tunnel straightens out, legs moving as if they were crafted with this very moment in mind. It's crafty, too, or at least it seems like it when it ducks last-second into the other side of a fork, and this is what truly solidifies his resolve - it's a near-thing, but he follows after it, whipping and whirling and rocketing through the correct tunnel. He's going to catch this rabbit - this, Luckypaw knows, even inexplicably so. Not after all this will he be content to let it slip out of his grasp - there's no chance that he can return empty-pawed.
They're getting ever-closer to camp, he thinks, and he's growing ever-closer to his prey. It feels like hours, chasing after it, though surely it can't be more than a minute or two at the most; already, his paws can feel the strain, legs pushed as hard as they can go, and yet with the final stretch just before him, he pushes harder, summoning everything in him to move just a little faster. This move pays off almost immediately - the distance between them is so short, he can practically feel the rabbit's scruffy pelt, can almost sink his claws right in. He's not going to get a better opportunity than this, he realizes, and so, with claws outstretched, he sends himself forward with a mighty leap, dirt-strewn pelt meeting dirt-strewn pelt. Claws meet flesh, and as he finds purchase, the pair go rolling forward, straight out of a tunnel entrance and onto the moors. Though dazzled by the sudden change in light, Luckypaw doesn't let it keep him from his task, claws still sunken into flesh pulling the rabbit closer, close enough to finally dispatch it. He hunches over the catch, panting in the sunlight, and it doesn't even register what he's done 'till the thick scent of blood reaches his nose, the metallic taste only just gracing his tongue. He had...he had caught the rabbit. He had caught the rabbit, all on his own. It wasn't exactly graceful, it wasn't particularly elegant, but it was his catch, his own work. "I caught it. I caught the rabbit!" Somewhere deep in his chest, something lightens, as evinced by the gleeful, wide grin laid bare to anyone around to see it.
//Optional mentor tag: @cygnetstare (but feel free to post; this isn't PAFP!)
TLDR: Luckypaw catches his first rabbit just outside of the mouth of one of the tunnels
[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]