LOCATION DROP, NOW ♡ HUNT


Losing oneself in instinct is an easy way to detach from reality; Mirepurr forgoes all the uncertainty, the fear, the bitterness in an effort to keep the Clan well-fed, pupils thinning into slits as they find their prize.

Snipes. Their movements are almost hypnotic to watch — thin legs wade through marsh-water, creating ripple effects that prove rather pleasing to look at, and when they straighten up to take out their beaks from the liquid, little drops slide off in a rhythmic motion. Hunting, just like ShadowClan is. The family of birds appears rather plump; without RiverClan cats taking fish and other aquatic prey from them, they have little reason to worry about prey shortage even with leaf-fall's presence.

The same cannot be said for them. The Clan needs a full belly in order to keep combing through their territory... it has its way of feeling too small and empty for them, but the past few days has made it feel enormous.

"Let's corner them," Mirepurr suggests, voice a mere low hush. Their hunting crouch is near-perfect, belly kept close to the ground — but not close enough to brush against the mud and alert their prey. Shadows keep the patrol well-hidden; if they work together, it would prove easy to snatch into wings attempting to fly and flee.


 
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Icey gaze drifts to golden , then back to the group of snipes. A single ear flicks in acknowledgement, his smoky form creeps low to the side, slowly. Not a single branch does he step on, carefully placing his paws into the ground. His ears angled forward, his body moved fluidly.

Sparrowheart has never had an issue with hunting, he quite enjoyed it. The way the prey was unsuspecting, they joys to get the catch and know- I am feeding the clan, there will be full bellies tonight. And it made him enthusiastic to know that.

Once a bit away to help corner them, his gaze blinks slowly at Mirepurr, and he waits. His body is already bracing, and his gaze is trained forward to the closest one. They need this. Shadowclan, with kits growing and apprentices training, with warriors working hard- they need this badly.

 

It's easy to get lost in a hunt, to fall into the motions of chasing with reckless abandon. It takes dedication to form strategy and follow through on it. They enjoyed both aspects of the spectrum, the thrill and rush of the chase and the thought process of strategy and tracking. It was always a testament to the group they were in attendance with to figure out which way the pendulum of the patrol would swing. Mirepurr's lead was one of that silent strategy, if it was luck or excellent tracking that lead them towards the snipes they didn't know. All Shriketalon knew is that they were here now, watching with fascination as the plump birds wade through water. If they didn't have to rely on other animals to eat, to survive, then the black and white warrior was certain that they would find satisfaction in idly watching how their food hunts their own prey.

Did the snipes find themself lost to instinct when they hunt? Or are their own movements methodical? The suggestion is to corner them and Shriketalon nods in agreement. They had learnt later than others in attendance that the best aspect for ShadowClan is their stealth, the element of surprise outweighing pure brawn. No matter how hungry they felt, they couldn't allow instinct to win. They had been informed once that the clan is not always so well fed, so they should take advantage of bountiful moments such as this.

They crouch low, careful to not brush against the ground below. Keenly watching their prey in a futile attempt to figure out their movements ahead of time, where they might try to run to just in case the attempt of cornering doesn't go as planned.


  • SHRIKETALON ||
    They/them, Warrior of ShadowClan, 31 moons
    A long haired black feline with low white spotting and hazel eyes. A small tear marks their right ear.

    Mentored by Nectarsong | Mentoring N/A

    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ⭃ underline and tag when attacking.

    penned by Juice ⭃ Ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 

There was an uncomfortable feeling in her gut as she stared at the back of Mirepurr's head, a long-term grimace that calling them leader would mean admitting to herself that Smogstar was gone. Even if he wasn't her mentor, a fact that added another layer of despair to the situation, Bloodpaw didn't want to believe it - how could a clan that had only known one leader in her lifetime suddenly end up with three in a month? Even if Mirestar became a thing, would the chimera stay long enough for their name to become legacy? Or would they be swallowed by the shadows of their home, never to be seen again?

On a patrol as important as a hunting one, it wasn't a great thing to be thinking about. Mirepurr's directions entered her ears like a gust of wind so scarce she may not have been sure it even existed had she not seen others react to it. She shook her head clear of the cobwebs and entered a crouch, eyes catching glimpses of snipes through the marshland reeds. That pit in her belly, the one that had dictated she feel wrong about it all, instinctively growled in hunger. Her clanmates disappeared into darkness and Bloodpaw snaked around the other side of the wading birds, hoping to cut off their escape if they chose to flee towards her. Things were quiet, for a time.

Her orange gaze wandered out towards where the others lay in wait, growing wide at the appearance of black tabby stripes ducking in and out of sight, too far away for Bloodpaw to make out much else. It couldn't be... and yet... deep within her heart, she hoped, nay, she knew she couldn't be seeing things. Smogstar?

Beneath a distracted paw, a single branch snapped.

[ ooc disclaimer: she has *not* seen smogstar, it is a case of mistaken identity with sparrowheart </3 ]