to hunt again! [open]

[wednesdae]

The sun was low in the horizon and the snow was no longer dusting down onto the floor of the camp. Mottledpelt let out a sigh of content. The dawn patrol would be leaving soon, but other than them, no cat was out in the crisp air of the ShadowClan camp. Her kits wandered in dreams in the nursery, and she was for once left in peace.

It wasn’t that Mottledpelt didn’t love her kits – one could see in the way they made her eyes laugh and smile, though her mouth did not. They were just not what she wanted; they had gotten in the way of her hope to take the deputyship when Rainstar ascended. They were a rambunctious litter, and she wasn’t certain how to deal with them. Sootclaw would know what to do, she thought, annoyed.

It occurred to her that, as her kits were asleep, perhaps she could go on a hunt. She wouldn’t go far, that way Ashkit could find her if one of them should need her. The thin cat stretched, shaking each leg as she stepped forward, slipping out of camp.

The mottled she-cat breathed in deeply, the lush pine scent filling her as she wandered. Oh, how she had missed this! Pure ShadowClan scent, untainted by milk and dirt and other cats – just pine and fir and prey.

Prey! She hadn’t hunted since Greenleaf. Mottledpelt instantly dropped into a crouch, glad she hadn’t forgotten her instincts. She stepped forward lightly, having scented mouse, eyes wide, searching eagerly. A ghostly smile crossed her face. This was great! This is what she had missed, this was being a warrior of ShadowClan! She saw it, small and frail, biting at a pinecone in search of seeds, only fox lengths away from the roots where she hid, praising StarClan for her tabby back and snowy stomach. Ste by step, she moved forward, until, she pounced, trapping the mouse between her paws, but also landing on its pinecone.

Mottledpelt yowled in pain, and the mouse escaped as she lifted her paws to examine the damage.

[Icy-son]

How did it feel to be back out in the forest once more? As a matter
of fact, it was extraordinary. Her bones honestly haven't been this
flexible since she was a younger warrior. Her pale amber eyes
darted from each pine to the one behind, and perhaps the one to
the side. She hadn't used this very trail since two Gatherings ago,
when she agreed to meet with another elder, since she was not
going then. The plan had failed, for the other forgot to show up,
and she was crestfallen. She had made sure the past Gathering
that she wouldn't talk to that elder. She didn't, thank StarClan.

With each of her pawsteps, she glided across the forest floor,
which was scattered with all sorts of debris, such as pine needles
and- Wait a second. Her head swiveled to the direction of a faint
screech of pain (Her hearing was failing, hehe), and she instantly
broke out in a dash, which wasn't as fast, considering she
was an elder, toward where-ever the source was coming
from. Her tabby patches seemed to brighten with her excitement,
and her senses wavered to hunting. Shaking her head out of her
small trance, she continued, but in a slow-medium pace.

In due time, she had reached the small clearing, and her gaze
drafted to the she-cat. Mottledpelt. Good thing it wasn't a warrior
from another Clan, or she would end up being as good as gone.
Taking several steps forward, the older she-cat gave a small purr,
which sounded more like a rusty growl, and muttered, "Need
any help, Mottledpelt?" The she-cat stepped back, and gave a
small grin. Ah, Spottedtail most likely knew where
this would be heading. Or did she really?

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