pafp i'm gonna be just like you / successful hunt

[Chicky]

To be present and active in a clan was one thing: everybody was present, active, dutiful. To be a warrior in ThunderClan meant consistent work ethic and substance. To be a good warrior of ThunderClan, you had to be Blizzard Fang. You had to be Redwind. You had to be Whitelion. Proud, upstanding, nary a whisker out of place on any of them. They were the perfect warriors. They were what Chickadeepaw should want to be....

But Chickadeepaw didn't want dutiful. Chickadeepaw wanted to be big, loud, AMAZING. The cats she looked up to were cats like Wolfwind, Stormywing, Killdeercry! They were all larger than life, bigger than Chickadeepaw could ever imagine herself being - she wanted to be that so bad.

She tries to emulate these cats as much as she can, one by one. Killdeercry was easy to mimic (family was always easy to get right.) To be Wolfwind, though, she had to be a good hunter - the best hunter. She had to have the best pounce, the most athletic jump. Wolfwind had made that very clear last moon when she hosted that competition for her name. Chickadeepaw had watched her since then, had studied exactly how to bunch her paws up under herself to maintain the perfect crouch. She shifted her weight from front to back, bracing herself for kick off.

Her target was simple enough: one ruddy-and-coal woodpecker digging at the bark of a nearby oak tree. It tapped and chattered at the wood it perched on, thankfully too distracted by the prospect of a buggy meal to pay any attention to the fluffy apprentice that had laser-focused on it.

One. Two. Three deep breaths before she shot forward, launching herself up, up, up with her powerful back legs and forward. There is a graceful sort of trajectory to her leap, an arc perfected not by talent but by studiousness and dedication. It feels good to get it, and it's doubly as sweet when her aim is true as her paws seize on the woodpecker before it can fly away.

She kills it with one bite, just like Wolfwind would, and lets out a little warble (combined with a very warrior-like tippy-tappy dance.) It does not occur to her, in her moment of glee, that she might have an audience. @HOWLINGSTAR

// obligatory mentor tag: @WHITELION​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

She recalls the day Chickadeepaw had been reassigned to a new mentor, her old one unable to keep up with the troublemaker's energy and rebelliousness. Whitelion had been a much better fit, and as Howlingstar catches sight of the apprentice on her hunt, she is proven right. She pauses, her form mostly hidden behind the trunk of a wide sycamore tree, and watches the girl stalk, leap with surprising precision, and bring the bird down. Her eyes light up with approval. The apprentice bears discipline she had not had before, and the tabby doesn't hesitate to reveal herself at last.

"Very nice catch, Chickadeepaw," She purrs, padding forward. She comes to a stop in front of the she-cat and sniffs at the woodpecker. "Whitelion has taught you well. Birds are very tricky; many warriors struggle with it." ​

 

[Silverlightning]

War weighin' on my heart but I can't fall

A squirrel dangles within the jaws of his own maw as he comes to a stop beside Howlingstar. Quietly he places his catch upon the ground, eyeing the bird caught by the apprentice. She had hunted and stalked the avian with peak precision, a true testament of Whitelion's teaching skills. "That is a very nice catch. Congratulations, Chickadeepaw." Even he still had trouble felling birds from time to time. Creatures that stuck close to the forest floor were easier to handle. Perhaps it was due to his upbringing in the mountains since birds were not typically something one would eat. ​

Seekin' shelter from the storm on this blank road​

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[Chicky]

The suddenness of her leader's approach causes Chickadeepaw to start a little, a shaken rrrrmp! erupting from her throat around the bird in her mouth. Another warrior appears - oh yes, they were on a hunting patrol... she had forgotten in her concentration. She waits for a lecture or a correction for wandering a little farther than she should've, for hunting something best left to more experienced cats, but the lecture doesn't come. Instead, she is praised. She is congratulated for an accomplishment. Warmth spreads from the tips of her ears to the end of her tail, a much different warmth than of shame or embarrassment. It's pride, fierce as a lion in her chest.

She blinks, genuinely, to both of the older cats in turn. "Thank you." Is her muffled response. She can't really manage much else. This doesn't happen much, but oh boy does she enjoy the feeling of it.

But it doesn't feel enough, so she tacks on: "do you want this, Howlingstar?" If it truly was an excellent catch, then surely it was to be the leader's meal instead of being slated for any other cat. ​