- Apr 27, 2023
- 121
- 15
- 18
He couldn't say that he wasn't learning things, but his mentors refreshers were starting to get annoying, bug him a little bit. She was still enforcing he memorize each landmark, even if he did answer her questions right. Their walks weren't small talk, but making sure he remembered every bit of info she told him.
"What did I just say?" She asked, yet again.
"Use your senses to hunt, not just your eyesight." He said blandly, feeling bored by the minute.
"Then close your eyes, tell me what you smell."
He would close them, but his crystal gaze would roll into the closing of his eyelids. He wasn't dumb. He wished she would stop treating him like he was. "The moor." It was a sarcastic answer that got him a cuff over his ears.
"Fine, I smell a couple creatures. Some old smells of a patrol, probably from this morning." He inhaled, opening his maw a little bit. "A rabbit."
"Well? Go get it," she said curtly, moving to her haunches and resting her tail upon her paws. The scruffy rosetted tom would huff before moving past her, nose in the air as he tried to locate the creature. Rabbits were larger creatures, and sometimes they fought back. But he would get it. And maybe, maybe someone would be impressed by his sudden skills.
Deep in the night when he was supposed to be sleeping, he would practice hunting mossballs and bugs hidden in the darkness of the night in fret of being caught. He was confident he had finally gotten the posture and movements correct, and hopefully it would come in handy.
When his eyes caught on to the rabbit, nibbling at some sort of berry, he would lower himself down. His paws lifted off the ground and very carefully were placed to avoid twigs or sharp noises. Unfortunately, rabbits had good hearing, but it was looking like he was in the clear.
His back legs would spring him forward, his jaws locking around a back leg of the rabbit as it's other leg would kick at its face. A small paw would smash it's head down into the dirt, feeling the sting of its claw having caused his cheek to bead with blood. It almost got out of his grip as he let go to reposition, but instead he would hold the injured leg with his other paw. White canines would lunge at its spine, feeling the crack between his teeth and digging deeper before the rabbit went limp.
The black beady eyes would seem to lose its light, and dull out before his mentor finally came upon them. There was no Good Job, no smile, just a small comment of taking it back to camp. He didn't expect less. Even if he did apologize, she didn't believe him, it would seem. And that was fine.
As they arrived into camp, his jaws full of his first catch, she told him shed take him back out later, and to rest for a few. So, as the sun sat high above them, he would be dragging his prey to the pile, and moving to bask in the sun for a minute. He'd do some tasks in a moment.
"What did I just say?" She asked, yet again.
"Use your senses to hunt, not just your eyesight." He said blandly, feeling bored by the minute.
"Then close your eyes, tell me what you smell."
He would close them, but his crystal gaze would roll into the closing of his eyelids. He wasn't dumb. He wished she would stop treating him like he was. "The moor." It was a sarcastic answer that got him a cuff over his ears.
"Fine, I smell a couple creatures. Some old smells of a patrol, probably from this morning." He inhaled, opening his maw a little bit. "A rabbit."
"Well? Go get it," she said curtly, moving to her haunches and resting her tail upon her paws. The scruffy rosetted tom would huff before moving past her, nose in the air as he tried to locate the creature. Rabbits were larger creatures, and sometimes they fought back. But he would get it. And maybe, maybe someone would be impressed by his sudden skills.
Deep in the night when he was supposed to be sleeping, he would practice hunting mossballs and bugs hidden in the darkness of the night in fret of being caught. He was confident he had finally gotten the posture and movements correct, and hopefully it would come in handy.
When his eyes caught on to the rabbit, nibbling at some sort of berry, he would lower himself down. His paws lifted off the ground and very carefully were placed to avoid twigs or sharp noises. Unfortunately, rabbits had good hearing, but it was looking like he was in the clear.
His back legs would spring him forward, his jaws locking around a back leg of the rabbit as it's other leg would kick at its face. A small paw would smash it's head down into the dirt, feeling the sting of its claw having caused his cheek to bead with blood. It almost got out of his grip as he let go to reposition, but instead he would hold the injured leg with his other paw. White canines would lunge at its spine, feeling the crack between his teeth and digging deeper before the rabbit went limp.
The black beady eyes would seem to lose its light, and dull out before his mentor finally came upon them. There was no Good Job, no smile, just a small comment of taking it back to camp. He didn't expect less. Even if he did apologize, she didn't believe him, it would seem. And that was fine.
As they arrived into camp, his jaws full of his first catch, she told him shed take him back out later, and to rest for a few. So, as the sun sat high above them, he would be dragging his prey to the pile, and moving to bask in the sun for a minute. He'd do some tasks in a moment.