It's fun to lose ( First Catch ) And to Pretend

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.
 


☽༺♰༻☾
the smell of a fresh kill drew hollypaw from her task at hand. changing nests seemed much less enticing when the scent of rabbit flooded her senses. she glanced around, interested in who was responsible for this feat. spotting milkpaw, her brow raised slightly. the rosette was a familiar face, they had shared a den when he was... punished? demoted? she wasn't too sure on the specifics.

moving over, she was close on his heels when he retreated to soak the sun into his bright pelt. unfortunately, his rest would not go undisturbed. a spark of jealousy welled in her, she hadn't caught a rabbit yet. waiting until he were to lie down, the shadowy apprentice moved to block his sun, green gaze staring down expectantly as he rested. "a rabbit," she hummed. it was a mix between approval and envy, perhaps she would interrogate him for tips, but when she saw a trace of blood on his cheek. it made her less disgruntled to see that the prey did not go easily. "you're bleeding, you know." did he not notice? why wasn't he on his way to get checked out by wolfsong?
 
His blue gaze drifted back open as the difference between bright eyelids and dark eyelids were to make him aware of the other apprentice before him. "My first catch," he said after she commented about the rabbit.

To think, three months into apprenticeship, and two months wasted, only to finally catch his first piece of prey. "To go to WolfSong for every cut and bruise seems irrational. It'll heal-" he commented, rolling over to his side.

Hollypaw was one of the ones he would helped as a child, and he smiled at her. "How is apprenticeship going, so far?" he asked, having liked hanging out with the kids when they were in there.
 
To say that she holds a grudge against Milkpaw would not be entirely inaccurate; Scorchstreak merely does her best to ignore the troublesome apprentice’s existence. But he is an apprentice, and his safety is the clan’s safety. So when the young tom returns to camp with a rabbit in his maw and a cut across his face, the calico follows behind Hollypaw, striding over to where the pale-furred apprentice rests. Milkpaw insists that he doesn’t need to see Wolfsong for such a small injury, and she narrows her eyes at him. It will heal, unless it gets infected and does you in, she thinks, but she is guilty of the same thing, and so Scorchstreak says nothing.

Instead, she flicks an ear and decides to comment on the first thing Milkpaw had said. "It’s about time you contributed to your clan," she says, tone flat. There is no room in WindClan for apprentices of Milkpaw’s age who cannot hunt their own prey. "But it is a good catch. Better to catch your first prey late than never." She wonders, briefly, how long it will take for her own kits to catch their first prey. Frostkit will be the first to have a successful catch, she thinks, but they will all succeed within their first month of training. They must.
[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]
 
Milkpaw had to grit his teeth. He wasn't exactly given much of a chance to do his training looking after children and performing duties in camp. He was doing everything he was told, and yeah he would grumble to himself but he still did it. and he did it thoroughly.

But they would still be mad and he would just have to deal with it he supposed. And dewmist still screwed up his first catch, but he was forced to let that go. time in between said so.

"Thank you." he said, his blue eyes not meeting her orange hues. "I will be trying harder this time around."

He was small, but he would make it up in strength one day. He just had to try and train harder. Which is why he insisted on going out twice a day. and if dewmist didn't take him, he'd go out on his own.
 
Fully free from the medicine den and fresh to returning to his duties, Sedgepaw has yet to catch any more prey—and though that fact is more of a sore spot than he'd anticipated, it doesn't spoil his reaction to Milkpaw's own success. Outwardly, at least.

"Woah, hey!" he calls, having caught sight of the small patrol's return from the other edge of camp. It's as he's padding forward that he recalls Sunflowerpaw's less than stellar reaction to his jokes about their own first hunt, so Sedgepaw dutifully redirects his reaction this time around. "That's a good catch! Someone's gonna be eating good tonight. I'm jealous," Sedgepaw says, with just enough envy in his voice for his words to be true. He'll be back to his old self soon, he's sure. Everyone says he's just gotta work hard.

Eyeing the blood now drying against Milkpaw's pale fur, Sedgepaw tries to make light of the tense situation. Hollypaw is dispassionate in the weird way that some kids just are, though Scorchstreak is a foreboding and severe presence. Sedge grins crookedly. "I mean, I could probably tell you what Wolfsong's going to say," Sedgepaw seems to gather himself, drawing himself up taller and more stern-faced. "With your blessing, I suggest a poultice of yarrow and a patch of cobwebs. Would that be amenable to you?"

His Wolfsong impression leaves much to be desired—and his medical knowledge even more so—but it's a bit that comes from a place of respect and appreciation. Wolfsong helped to nurse him back to health, after all. So he tries to do the man justice, even if it is a bit at his expense.​