Private Thread Pond-hopping

Being different means being unique and that's what makes the world an exciting place to be in.

∘◦✧◦∘ ꨄ︎ ∘◦✧◦∘

Wolfpaw had followed his mentor along the trail, his paws getting a little murky as they walked, but it didn't really bother him. He wondered if Muddypaw was doing okay all the way in WindClan, one of his speckled ears twitched as his mentor began to speak, he knew better than to get sidetracked like that during training anyway.

"I don't get put on many hunting patrols yet." He spoke simply, surely that would have been enough to answer Heronsong's question. He hadn't exactly been first pickings when patrols were send out, after all, he was still young. He was 8 moons... or 7 something along those lines. He just assumed that Dawnflurry had yet to assume he was prepared to go on hunts without Heronsong. It wouldn't be long though, at least he hoped it wouldn't.

Wolfpaw narrowed his orange eyes as he tried to spot what Heronsong was talking about, but all he could really see at first was mud and marshy wetness. He gave his mentor a quizzical, confused look before trying to focus a little more on the puddle of mud... where could they be hinding?

Being different means being unique and that's what makes the world an exciting place to be in.

∘◦✧◦∘ ꨄ︎ ∘◦✧◦∘

A nod came from the young smoke tom as he rolled his shoulders, steadying his paws. Her narrowed his orange eyes and looked to where his mentor had pointed, and there it was, the steady but swift, prey-like rise and fall of the torso of the brown frog. He gave his mentor a nod, he saw it now, he didn't need words to tell her that. 

When Heronsong went quiet, Wolfpaw took that as a sign to focus. Mud made his pawsteps much more quiet, but it still limited how quick he could be, maybe that was the point.

Wolfpaw took his pawsteps forward, at this point, he had mastered the hunting crouch that was so important to learn at this stage and was very much able to stalk through the dark, his black pelt benefitted him in that way. However, when the frog let out a soft croaking sound, his muscles tensed in a freeze. He flattened his ears, perhaps for a more windswept appearance that countered his scruffy, naturally unkempt coat to appear a little more concealed all things considered.

When he was sure the frog hadn't noticed him, he moved forward, heart throbbing heavily in his chest with the adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt. Then, he became briefly airborn, all four paws lifted from the ground as he pounced at the frog, fangs prepared to sink into the slick, furless flesh.

Being different means being unique and that's what makes the world an exciting place to be in.

∘◦✧◦∘ ꨄ︎ ∘◦✧◦∘

When Wolfpaw pounced, his paws landed just shy of the frog and as it hopped, his silvery colored paws tried to close the space but was only met with empty air. He flared his dappled nostrils as he stood. He turned his orange gaze toward his mentor. Surely there would have been a disappointed look on her face, missed prey could mean an unfed kit or an elder without their share.

Perfect? How was it perfect. His confusion remained inward as he shook out his unkempt fur and made his way slowly and carefully back to the grey-pelted she-cat of whom he was chosen to train with for the next few moons. Wolfpaw opened his mouth, but no words came, just an empty breath where words may have been if there had been any to say. But the confused look on his face told a million words at once.

But the explanation seemed enough for Wolfpaw, he nodded, silence and awareness were his strong suits, so it seemed. He was quite aware of the way his silence might come off to other cats, but to prey, he could be practically invisible until he caught it... in theory that is. Maybe practice was all he need.

He leant his mentor a tilt of his head 'What next?' would have been accurate words if there had been any, but his frizzy furred tail just twitched upwards in curiosity and a silent eagerness.