private next up forever | hunting thread prompt

[Cherrypaw [in.]]

"THAT'S WHEN STRANGE SENSATIONS, START TO GROW"​

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Spoiler: prompt used

4. Cherrypaw has four more moons to go before becoming a warrior. What does he imagine his warrior name will be? Is he excited to become a warrior?

Four moons... not even, it would be three within two weeks. He had already long since grown out of his "baby"-face, but his legs were still wonky and he had already reached the same height as his dad's. In fact, he was taller than his sister now, who had barely grown an inch in the past month while he continued. According to his dad, though, this was normal, for he got his height from his mother.
Even so, he still struggled with one thing in particular that his sister excelled at: hunting. He would do exactly as Tybalt orders: drop into a crouch, flatten himself low to the ground without dusting the floor, keep his tail from swatting a nearby branch or leaf, wiggle his hips and leap—and it would only work half the time. In fact, he had requested quite a few hunting sessions with Tybalt just so he could continue to try and improve—but he didn't know what he was doing wrong! It was badgering him even when he wasn't training, and while he took great pride in his fighting skills, each time the prey would slip from his claws with barely a scratch.
Now, most of the time he would be able to catch something, usually slow squirrels and birds. But today was a different story.

He would attempt it again now, much too aware of Tybalt's piercing eyes on his back watching his every step, and while he knew he was in a faulty position, he had to take cover as to not alert his next target. The ground leaned him too far left, and he had to leap across a small bump in the terrain to reach the plump, juicy vole that had just crawled out of sleep. It was hardly aware of him, instead munching on some nearby grasses and cleaning its face.
Come on... Wiggle your hips and lunge forward!

With a wiggle of the haunches, Cherrypaw launches himself forwards and uses the hill as a boost, only for his back paw to awkwardly skim the grass, forcing him to make an early landing. The vole snapped its head up, and with a sharp squeal, it runs the opposite direction and directly for a thicket that Cherrypaw knew he wouldn't be able to climb through. He was too big for that now. He gives chase, attempting to bat at it repeatedly to get it to trip, but the vole was much quicker. It evaded his claws no matter how many twists and turns he took to bite down on its fat neck, staying just barely out of reach for him to successfully nab the stupid rodent.

He gives a final leap, landing both paws square on the vole's lower back, making it squeal in pain—something may have been broken. With a triumphant laugh, he leans his head down to finish it off, pride swelling in his chest; he had finally caught the little beast, and now he'd finally have something to bring back!

His jaws snap down on thin air.

The vole had wriggled out of his paws the moment it felt him loosen in even the slightest, and gave a mad dash for the thicket, stuttering and limping. By the time he had shot his head back up in shock to look for where it had gone and spotted it again, the vole disappeared.

What once was pride now simply sat empty in his gut, and while most cats would get angry, Cherrypaw sat motionless without even a flash of frustration in his eyes or an agitated flick of the tail—but it was not to say he was in any good mood.

// ooc @Tybalt [Stagstrike] cherry is Not having a fun day​

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