- Nov 29, 2023
- 174
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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.