- Aug 17, 2022
- 411
- 99
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A fresh dusting of snow lays upon the ground for the hunting patrol that Greenpaw finds himself on. Cold air surrounds them and the apprentice swears it's colder than what it has been, a temperature that leaves him wanting to go home to the warmth of the apprentice den.
But, he must focus. He's determined to catch something on this patrol. SkyClan needs something to fill its kill pile and the stomachs that feed off of it. Dwindled into nothing as of late, a struggle to find anything catchable.
A struggle the hunting patrol finds. A catch has yet to be found, and a suggestion to split off arises. So, that's what they do.
The apprentice wanders for a bit, until he finally catches a scent. Bird. He follows it for what feels like forever in the frosted air, the setting sky. The snow leaves no trace of evidence for Greenpaw - as if the bird wasn't there, as if Greenpaw had made it all up.
His trail stops, leaves his own paws no other choice than to slow to a stop too. Gone, the bird is. It must be. A realization that leaves Greenpaw's heart sinking. Disappointment yet again.
He turns to return the way he came from - to follow his pawprints back to his patrol - when he sees it. The bird, swooping down to find its next resting spot. Bright eyes go wide, paws racing forward to catch up to the bird, to meet it just in time. He has no time to waste - every movement must be swift. Perfect.
Greenpaw leaps upward, claws ready to connect with plumage. He does it. He does it. Claws dig into the bird as gravity pulls them back down, a killing blow delivered. Clumsy still, but less clumsy than what his hunting attempts were known for. Improvement.
He stares down at the catch - his catch - below him, disbelief filling his eyes.
"I... I did it?" he squeaks to himself, tilting his head at the bird. A bird beneath him, crimson blood contrasting the white trail beneath him. His first catch. "I did it!" The apprentice scoops up his catch between his teeth, paws racing to meet back up with his patrol. He has to show them!
"Look!" he calls to the patrol upon his arrival, voice muffled by the feathers in his mouth, "Look, what I caught!"
But, he must focus. He's determined to catch something on this patrol. SkyClan needs something to fill its kill pile and the stomachs that feed off of it. Dwindled into nothing as of late, a struggle to find anything catchable.
A struggle the hunting patrol finds. A catch has yet to be found, and a suggestion to split off arises. So, that's what they do.
The apprentice wanders for a bit, until he finally catches a scent. Bird. He follows it for what feels like forever in the frosted air, the setting sky. The snow leaves no trace of evidence for Greenpaw - as if the bird wasn't there, as if Greenpaw had made it all up.
His trail stops, leaves his own paws no other choice than to slow to a stop too. Gone, the bird is. It must be. A realization that leaves Greenpaw's heart sinking. Disappointment yet again.
He turns to return the way he came from - to follow his pawprints back to his patrol - when he sees it. The bird, swooping down to find its next resting spot. Bright eyes go wide, paws racing forward to catch up to the bird, to meet it just in time. He has no time to waste - every movement must be swift. Perfect.
Greenpaw leaps upward, claws ready to connect with plumage. He does it. He does it. Claws dig into the bird as gravity pulls them back down, a killing blow delivered. Clumsy still, but less clumsy than what his hunting attempts were known for. Improvement.
He stares down at the catch - his catch - below him, disbelief filling his eyes.
"I... I did it?" he squeaks to himself, tilting his head at the bird. A bird beneath him, crimson blood contrasting the white trail beneath him. His first catch. "I did it!" The apprentice scoops up his catch between his teeth, paws racing to meet back up with his patrol. He has to show them!
"Look!" he calls to the patrol upon his arrival, voice muffled by the feathers in his mouth, "Look, what I caught!"
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