- Apr 6, 2023
- 24
- 4
- 3
WHO IS THE LAMB AND WHO IS THE KNIFE? ☽⁺₊⋆
Bloodhound had set out to hunt early that evening, before the sun had fully drifted below the horizon, as the shadows of the tress began to creep on and on, longer and thicker. The snow bengal slipped from shadow to shadow, slinking slowly, without sound. Listening carefully to their surroundings, following evening birdsong.
Carrionplace tended to have the most concentrated population of birds, if concentrated meant a few crows and pigeons. As much as it stunk, and made the warrior's stomach turn, there was little choice in the matter. All animals needed to eat somehow, and they were not of the mind to starve. That quiet determination in their mind, Bloodhound would stray to the stream's edge. Braving water came more easily to them than most other cats, something their mother had said, so long ago. Their wild cat ancestry, the selective breeding of man. Bloodhound bristled quietly at the thought, the memory of twolegs. Their mother should be here, with them, wild and free.
Bloodhound reached the other side of the stream, shaking off the excess water. Padding towards Carrionplace, trying not to breathe too much of the stench in. It made their fur stand at it's ends, hackles raised. They would still quietly slink in, from a hole in the fence. Crouching low to the ground, eyes set on a particular pigeon, fatter than the rest. Standing on one leg, unable to move as quickly as the rest with wings folded.
A split second decision, the bengal tearing towards the bird, claws unsheathed, jaws ready to bite, and its over. The pigeon's throat between jaws, claws digging into it's rotund form. A deep purr rolls from Bloodhound's chest, tasting blood on their tongue. They close their eyes, letting the bird lay, thanking Starclan that their hunt was successful, for the life that had been given to help feed their Clan. Whispering a soft thank you, like a prayer, the bengal would take the prey back into their jaws, heading back, towards home.
They'd slipped, along the edge of the stream, looking into the darkening marshland, lost in thought. Headfirst in running water, Bloodhound would startle and sputter, their face screwing up, tail twisting in knots. Water up their nose, they would sneeze and sneeze, shaking their head. It took a bit of work to get it all out, their eyes watery and nose stinging, fur drenched. The hybrid laughed, something quiet and soft. How foolish of them. They'd wash their paw, slimy with algae, in the stream, using that wet paw to get the remaining algae and slime off their face from their fall. They'd dropped their prey, and now it was sopping wet too. Bloodhound picks it up again, water dribbling from soaked feathers.
From then, crossing the stream is easy. Bloodhound was already wet, their whiskers drooping. They slink across, swimming, in the deeper parts. Tearing towards the shore, muscles rippling. Catch between their jaws, a fat pigeon with one leg. The bengal was sure they looked sopping and miserable, but Bloodhound's heart thrummed with thrill, their hunt successful.
Bloodhound had set out to hunt early that evening, before the sun had fully drifted below the horizon, as the shadows of the tress began to creep on and on, longer and thicker. The snow bengal slipped from shadow to shadow, slinking slowly, without sound. Listening carefully to their surroundings, following evening birdsong.
Carrionplace tended to have the most concentrated population of birds, if concentrated meant a few crows and pigeons. As much as it stunk, and made the warrior's stomach turn, there was little choice in the matter. All animals needed to eat somehow, and they were not of the mind to starve. That quiet determination in their mind, Bloodhound would stray to the stream's edge. Braving water came more easily to them than most other cats, something their mother had said, so long ago. Their wild cat ancestry, the selective breeding of man. Bloodhound bristled quietly at the thought, the memory of twolegs. Their mother should be here, with them, wild and free.
Bloodhound reached the other side of the stream, shaking off the excess water. Padding towards Carrionplace, trying not to breathe too much of the stench in. It made their fur stand at it's ends, hackles raised. They would still quietly slink in, from a hole in the fence. Crouching low to the ground, eyes set on a particular pigeon, fatter than the rest. Standing on one leg, unable to move as quickly as the rest with wings folded.
A split second decision, the bengal tearing towards the bird, claws unsheathed, jaws ready to bite, and its over. The pigeon's throat between jaws, claws digging into it's rotund form. A deep purr rolls from Bloodhound's chest, tasting blood on their tongue. They close their eyes, letting the bird lay, thanking Starclan that their hunt was successful, for the life that had been given to help feed their Clan. Whispering a soft thank you, like a prayer, the bengal would take the prey back into their jaws, heading back, towards home.
They'd slipped, along the edge of the stream, looking into the darkening marshland, lost in thought. Headfirst in running water, Bloodhound would startle and sputter, their face screwing up, tail twisting in knots. Water up their nose, they would sneeze and sneeze, shaking their head. It took a bit of work to get it all out, their eyes watery and nose stinging, fur drenched. The hybrid laughed, something quiet and soft. How foolish of them. They'd wash their paw, slimy with algae, in the stream, using that wet paw to get the remaining algae and slime off their face from their fall. They'd dropped their prey, and now it was sopping wet too. Bloodhound picks it up again, water dribbling from soaked feathers.
From then, crossing the stream is easy. Bloodhound was already wet, their whiskers drooping. They slink across, swimming, in the deeper parts. Tearing towards the shore, muscles rippling. Catch between their jaws, a fat pigeon with one leg. The bengal was sure they looked sopping and miserable, but Bloodhound's heart thrummed with thrill, their hunt successful.
[☾]
