Tell Me With Your Eyes || Practicing

Chickbloom

Cheeto-Dusted and Sopping Wet
Dec 16, 2023
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Eggshell never anticipated how invested he’d become in his own progress. The skittish Scottish Fold’s low self-esteem meant he joined Skyclan with no expectations of contributing in any major way. In all honesty, the coward expected to be kicked out within the first week. However, that hadn’t happened, and amber eyes had been treated to a constant stream of cats - both wild and kittypet - bringing food to the prey pile.

There was only so long the coward could go before further feelings of inadequacy started to pile up, and the chores he’d taken to performing around camp were nowhere near enough to outweigh it. Duskpool had helped - or tried, at least, to help him - so Eggshell’s hunting crouch no longer resembled an interpretation by a small and shaky-handed child, but the boy still hadn’t wrapped his claws around a living piece of prey.

It was embarrassing, getting shown up by cats half his age. What did the others think? Were there whispers of Eggshell’s incompetence? If there were, they would surely grow to shouts soon enough. Anxious eyes were prone to break out in tears at such thoughts, but the boy decided to channel that energy into something more productive (for once).

So, any cats out in the territory were likely to spot Eggshell, attempting to train in a small clearing by stalking around and pouncing on leaves and the like.​
 


Silversmoke was not a proficient hunter in his clan. Bad luck played a key role, even when he practiced his dexterity, few could contend with getting pecked into retreat by a bluejay or having prey scared off by clanmates. It was almost comical how little hunting seemed to go the spotted tabby's way. In the absence of hunting skill, he'd become a proficient patroller and fighter instead, two things that SkyClanner's newer warrior lacked too. His own training grounds on rotation, the Lead Warrior moved towards one of them with a lack of urgency. It wasn't.... entirely unexpected to see a creature already present, in most cases, he would leave them to it and find another clearing to practice in. For longer than he usually would, Silversmoke watched Eggshell through a gap in the trees. The Scottish Fold was utterly useless when he'd first met him, and there was still incompetence that lingered in every gesture -as if a low self-esteem forced him into a self-fulfilling prophecy. But, watching him practice and try to improve even when no one else was around, Silversmoke felt respect: he tried not to grimace at how easily it was earned. The spotted tabby sighed and stepped out, making himself known.

"You know, it would be a lot easier if you had someone to practice with." He moved towards a patch of ferns and fastened his teeth around one of the stems. Teeth gritted back and forth like a saw, then, Silversmoke pulled and pulled until he'd ripped the leaf from its bundle, the sodden, feather-like item draping towards the soil. He shook it vigorously, listening to leaves brush against leaves like the rattle of a snake's tail. With a satisfied huff, Silversmoke crouched and craned his neck towards the earth, letting the fern lay across it. "This will be trickier than a normal leaf." Trickier meant more accurate to actual hunting, alas, Eggshell would scare off normal prey. Teasingly, he brushed the fern against the earth, letting it whip like a mouse's tail. "Come get it." If the Scottishfold took the bait, Silversmoke would bolt towards the closest foliage he could find, considerably slowed by the awkwardness of carrying the fern leaf close to the floor.
 

Eggshell was scared of Silversmoke.

That by itself wasn’t a surprise. Eggshell was scared of particularly spiky foliage, so fear of other cats was to be expected. However, Eggshell was really scared of Silversmoke. The bluish-gray slab of muscle was second only to Slate on the list of peers he found horrifying. So when the much larger tom’s voice sounded from the shadows, the first word that popped into the anxious cat’s mind was assassination.

Obviously Eggshell didn’t know Silversmoke well enough, but the boy backed away all the same. He was so stuck in the headlights that it took a moment for the other’s words to register. “Uh, I d-don’t like to b-bother people…” The anxious cat may have wanted to improve, but he held no pretenses about the pace of his own progress. Any partner stupid enough to agree would doubtless get sick of him after a few sessions, sure of his hopelessness. They would come to hate the Scottish fold even more, and - wait, what was Silversmoke doing?

Eggshell was broken out of his anxious trance by the older cat’s actions, and as his impromptu instructions caused the weak muscles laying beneath yolk-stained fur to stiffen. “Uh…Okay…” He wasn’t really sure what was about to happen, and his actions reflected it. Short shuffles forwards, followed by a pounce that brought him nothing but dirt.

Amber eyes flicked towards the now-moving target in panic, half-expecting Silversmoke to break out into mocking laughter. “No f-fair!” Eggshell yelped before giving chase, having trouble catching up even as the other cat was slowed. As the boy eventually got into range, he tried once again to land a straightforward pounce that could be easily avoided if Silversmoke simply moved the stem to the side.
 

Ears flicked forwards and backward at Eggshell's reaction to him, his face seemingly locked in one sullen expression. "Then bother me instead." He didn't know quite what he was getting into with such a statement, the Scottish fold needed to learn how to do everything, and everything was a large ask for the impatient tom. More than most things, the spotted tabby valued self-improvement - the drive to be better mattered more than one's actual skills. Dedication alone would not put food in their bellies and protect their borders from rogues, but it was a start, something the clan could work with. Silversmoke would be a shoddy SkyClanner if he didn't try to help someone with such strong motivation. "You already know how to do that." A ghost of a smirk appeared, as faint as the fur upon his belly, before he caught himself and dropped the rare show of amusement. Soon, he would find himself without an apprentice. Crowpaw was nearly ready to become a warrior in all but emotional development. Perhaps being bothered wouldn't be too bad... even if Eggshell was guaranteed to frustrate him.

A dodge to the side with a pirouette, Silversmoke's stern eyes locked onto Eggshell's form. "Prey won't wait for you! You need to be quicker. If prey has the chance to flee, you've failed." Mice were small and could navigate the forest with greater ease, birds had the blessing of flight, the rare rabbit would outspeed anyone that it detected. It was trickier for the spotted tabby to discern when prey would or wouldn't notice the Scottish Fold, the anticipation of a jump heightened his attention span, but... there was also little he could smell outside of the ferns brushing against his nose. He considered it was worth becoming the prey himself, then, felt his stomach flip - that was an idea better suited to someone who didn't weigh as much as a fox. "You will never beat the mouse in a race, so think! How can you get closer to it?"

 

//omg I’m so so sorry for the late response! This thread totally slipped my mind, sorry again

// Silversmoke’s proposition sounds like a joke at first. After all, who would want to be bothered? The stern warrior’s next sentence only confirms his suspicions, and the boy feels tears welling up in amber eyes until the other actually acts on their words. The chase is comical, with the coward fruitlessly tiring himself out as Silversmoke berates him.

“I’m g-going as f-fast as I can!” Eggshell pants back, which was at least three different layers of sad and pathetic. Still the tomcat trudged forward, bashing yolk-stained features against a proverbial wall as he continued to chase Silversmoke and his mocking stem. It was like watching a child struggle with the crossword: amusing, but also pitiable. It seemed the warrior was aware of the boy’s lack of progress, and elected to give him a hint.

“I c-can - uh -” a million thoughts run through his head all at once, most of them useless. Could he lure it with some other prey? Maybe try to imitate a mouse to lull in into a false sense of security? Hell, why didn’t the ball of nerves just ask nicely?

Thankfully, after sifting through a mountain of unhelpful internal suggestions, Eggshell finally got the memo. At least, he thought he did. The skittish Scottish Fold changed his trajectory, angling away to try and cut off silversmoke and the stem.
 
Eggshell had slipped through the cracks, initially. With Blazestar's death clutching the Clan so soon after Eggshell joining it, she'd neglected to check in on his training so often. She's pleasantly surprised, however, to see that he's taken it upon himself to learn. He asks questions. And, on a day like today, he is found training.

Orangestar and Springpaw are passing through initially, but the game of hunter-and-prey that he has engaged in with Silversmoke has the leader curious enough to pause. The folded-ear tomcat shows thought, then; some spark lighting up yellow eyes as Eggshell darts a different direction than he had been, in what Orangestar guesses to be an attempt at cutting in ahead of Silversmoke's path. Interesting. Still rushed and hasty, but the fact that he'd changed tactic shows some promise.

"To get closer to a piece of prey," she instructs Springpaw quietly (so as not to give her answer away to Eggshell), "and make it easier to pounce on without it running, you have to move downwind of it. Where you can smell the scent of prey, but it cannot catch your own. Feel the air on your whiskers to determine a direction, and make sure your prey is between you and the wind's source. We'll try it out when they're done here."

  • @Springpaw
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    ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | nine lives
    " a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."

    — single ; mentoring springpaw
    — speech is in #E3B2A9
    tags | art by pin