Across the Plains [closed for Salalalalalalalal]

Shrikestorm was up early, stretching out his tired limbs and pacing around the camp like a lost rabbit. In truth, he was nervous, but what else was new? He was about to take Snowpaw, his new apprentice, out on a hunting patrol. It was his first time leaving the camp as a mentor, and he wanted to make sure he was doing everything correct. He didn't want to accidentally stunt Snowpaw's growth. Taking a deep breath of the cold morning air, he padded over to the apprentice den, poking his head in and gently nudging Snowpaw awake. "Snowpaw," he mewed quietly. "Get up. We're going on a hunting patrol."

A soft tap on the head woke the sleeping apprentice. Snowpaw registered Shrikestorm’s voice (her mentor’s voice, she remembered) as he told her to get up for a hunting patrol. She did so, slowly, grogginess from the dream impacting her movements and blurry eyes impairing her vision. Her mind warmed up quicker than her body. It didn’t take long for the young she-cat to wonder about which asylum cats would accompany them. As a kit, she’d never been of any notice to them, but that was about to change. Snowpaw could guess it was a pain to have sets of eyes on you at all times.

It was cold. Snowpaw’s winter coat wasn’t fully grown in. It was still longer than most of her WindClan compatriots with wire or short hair, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. There was a thin sheen of frost layered across the ground that crunched under her paws. Her amber eyes flickered to the fresh-kill pile for a moment, but she didn’t eat any of the stale prey. The rogues could handle it. Assuming she and Shrikestorm caught anything, it would go to the queens, kits, and elders, as the code dictated.

Her tail flicked a little as she reached Shrikestorm’s side and gave a tight smile to her mentor. It was bitterly cold to someone who’d never really known anything outside of the gorse-protected camp. They were standing at the entrance, but the change in the wind’s strength without the gorse was clear even then. Snowpaw inhaled the cold air and steered her mind to the present. “Yes. Hunting. I’m ready.” Ready to embarrass myself in front of him and the rogues.

Shrikestorm glanced over as two of the rogue cats filtered out of the pack towards them, staying a distance away. They were like the two WindClan cats' shadows, staying far enough away that if you looked forward, it was almost like they weren't there. Their presence wasn't so easily forgotten, though. Taking in a deep breath of the cold air, Shrikestorm led Snowpaw out of the camp and onto the plains, with the two rogues following them in lockstep.

From his memory of his StarClan dream, and what his ancestor Falconstar looked like, he understood more why his fur was somewhat fluffier than most of his clanmates. It certainly helped in Leafbare, when the cold air swept through the plains and swirled around their bodies. He looked back towards Snowpaw sympathetically, knowing the poor apprentice must be freezing heading out of camp for the first time. What a season to do such... They all had to get used to it sooner or later, though. They didn't have the big monuments that kittypets lived in, after all. He had this vain hope that the cold would be too much for the rogues, but he knew better than to count on that.

"What can you smell?" he murmured to Snowpaw, letting the silence of nature hang over them. At least those rogues knew not to disturb any prey. Then again, how else would they eat? Leafbare chased much of the prey away, forcing them back into their burrows and out of their grasp. However, there was always the faintest scent of some prey that was wandering around. He glanced once more over towards the rogues, his expression tightening. 'We brought this on ourselves... StarClan help us.'

What might have been excitement at a first outing was blanketed by tension and apprehension. Snowpaw found herself constantly checking her back, and it was always the same scene, of two pelted cats silently following. Shrikestorm didn't seem confident, exactly, and he didn't trust the rogues, but he knew they wouldn't attack them. Snowpaw had misgivings about it, but she had to trust her mentor and tried to enjoy the snowy moor.

The cold almost immediately buffeted into Snowpaw's face, causing her eyes to sting and ears to flatten against her head. Her winter coat was still growing in after the fine kit-fur she'd had not a few sunrises before. Her fur would grow into a length similar to Shrikestorm's medium pelt, but it had just started, and it made her pelt somewhat short and wiry. Her pawpads were quick and light to avoid the freezing ground. This was far from the best conditions for a first training session (or any).

Shrikestorm broke the silence. Snowpaw hadn't thought about scenting, too focused on the cold and the rogues. She inhaled, opening her maw slightly, trying to distinguish mingled scents. There was prey somewhere, she knew that instinctively, but the cold spread out the scent in a way that she didn't know where it was. Her squinted amber eyes focused on the ground instead, trying to look for rabbit burrows or hare tracks. Tracks would be easy to find in the snow, if the prey wasn't holed up in burrows.

At the edge of her vision, she could see a faint path through the snow, and she directed her nose towards there. There was some scent, and the tracks were relatively deep. That had to mean it was recent. "I see tracks there," she murmured, her voice soft and low. The cold air made her throat hurt, and even if it was just signaling prey she didn't want the rogues to hear her words. "I think they're fresh. Hare or rabbit from the size, but I can't scent anything but a vague prey-smell." Was that good enough? Snowpaw looked up at Shrikefrost, seeking approval. She angled herself so he acted as a windbreaker, eyes still trained on his.

Shrikestorm smiled, impressed at how quickly Snowpaw adapted to her surroundings. It was the worst condition for hunting, barring a flood, but she had quickly found the scent of prey and the tracks to go with it. That was something to be proud of. “Good work, Snowpaw,” he mewed, brushing his tail against her shoulder. “Let’s see where these tracks lead, but be careful to remain silent. The snow will pad our steps, but only by so much.”

He led his apprentice, and in turn the two Asylum cats, further across the moor. He soon halted, sticking his tail up as a signal. Ahead of them was indeed a rabbit: it wasn’t a great size, but it was better than nothing. Nodding towards the rabbit, he whispered softly in Snowpaw’s ear. “Make sure to be as quiet as you can for as long as you can. When you’re in range, run for it and pounce. Rabbits are fast, but we have the jump on it. Make sure to stay light on your paws so the snow doesn’t drag you down.”

Snowpaw's ears drifted a little higher at Shrikestorm's praise. As he talked about pawsteps, she looked down at her paws, trying to figure out how to pad her steps as her mentor had put it. Frustration arose in her when her pawsteps were noticeably heavier than even the two heavier Asylum cats. She knew she had much less practice (this was her first time!) but she also knew she was much lighter than them. It is unreasonable to get everything right on the first outing, she told herself, and wondered if she forced herself to think it, she could stop being so tense about this.

Snowpaw didn't know what the tail signal meant and nearly crashed into Shrikestorm. She inhaled a quick breath and looked at her mentor, following his gaze towards a rabbit. She stayed still as she listened to his advice. It didn't seem like that was it, was that really all she needed to know to start hunting. Her eyes switched between Shrikestorm and the rabbit several times before she set out towards the rabbit. She tried to keep her pawsteps light, but felt like a lumbering badger. It must have worked, as the rabbit didn't appear to hear her.

She had the leap on it, Shrikestorm had said. Snowpaw assumed that meant she should stalk it until she thought she could leap the distance from her and the rabbit. Well, she was there, but she didn't exactly know the hunting crouch, and she was pretty sure that was the form used to leap. When she and Fawnpaw were kits, they had occasionally tried to mimic practicing apprentices in their hunting crouches and battle moves. The memory came to her now and she settled into a crouch. Albeit a rather bad crouch, but a crouch. The pounce to get the rabbit was relatively smooth. Her legs showed clear WindClan heritage as she sailed through the air and landed on top of the rabbit. So squarely on top that her landing was disrupted by the rabbit's body, and she would have rolled over and over if her claws hadn't hung onto the thing. Determination was clear in her amber eyes as she found the rabbit's neck and opened her jaws to bite it. She knew their kicks could hurt it she didn't kill it, so she kept her distance for a few moments, but picked it up and trotted back to Shrikestorm when its chest stopped rising. "Uh. I did it. Did I do it... correctly?"

Snowpaw attempted to catch a rabbit for 5sp. Success!
75/80sp

The member 'Sal' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 7

Shrikestorm watched his apprentice curiously, his own paws itching to run. He was prepared to nab the rabbit himself, on the off-chance that Snowpaw chased it over in his direction, but for now he waited. As she leapt, he held his breath, then let it out in relief as she landed on top of the rabbit. It went down without a fight, and his apprentice was then bringing it over. "Good job, Snowpaw," he purred happily, gently running his tail across her back. "That was an excellent catch. You're a natural at this." Yes, he had noticed little mistakes, but it was nothing more hunting patrols wouldn't fix. Her natural WindClan instincts gave her an advantage that the other clans could only dream of.

Snowpaw sighed, relaxing as she realized she hadn't severely messed things up. Well, it was a given that she hadn't, considering the rabbit was here, and she had caught it, but-- praise felt reassuring, anyway. She smiled at Shrikestorm a little and gazed across the plains. She could feel the bite of the wind, whipping her pelt and ears and curling her claws into their sheaths. "Do you think we could-" She stopped herself. She would have asked if they could go back to her nest, where it was warmer, and maybe do some of this later. If it warmed up. "I was going to ask if we could go back, at least for some time. I'm just cold. But we can continue if you want," she added hurriedly. She didn't want to disturb whatever plans Shrikestorm had. At the same time, she wanted the leaf-bare chill to stop. Her den was really just a scoop in the ground, but the gorse walls of camp blocked most of the wind.

Shrikestorm smiled softly, nodding to his apprentice. "We can go back to camp. Make sure to put your catch on the freshkile pile. We'll go back out again when the sun is high." He didn't want to push his apprentice too much, especially in such cold weather. With everything that was going on, it was best for them to conserve their strength whenever possible. Besides, it would surely be a touch warmer at sunhigh, and then they could add more to their daily catch. Once more running his tail across Snowpaw's back, he led them back to camp, trying his best to ignoring the Asylum cats skulking behind them.

“When the sun is high,” she repeated to herself, nodding even as she trembled from the cold. Snowpaw followed her mentor, gaze resting just above the ground. Things would work out - she had to believe that. All she could do was provide for her Clan. Become a warrior. Help provide fresh-kill during the leaf-bare moons, and hold out hope. As her mind wandered, she grunted softly as she saw a snow-white hare, in a patch of surprisingly green tallgrass. “There’s a hare there - do you want to leave it or try to catch it?” It was doubtful they’d leave such a piece of prey uncaught at any time, much less leaf-bare - but she could ask, anyway.

"Might as well catch it," Shrikestorm whispered, flexing his claws in the snow. "We shouldn't let good prey go to waste." He slowly approached it, keeping light on his paws. It was as if a ghost was crossing the snow-covered moors, and the hare didn't notice until it was far too late. He jumped for it, landed on it, and gave it a swift bite to the neck before it could even register what had happened. Picking it up, he carried it over to Snowpaw, dropping it with a triumphant smile. "Looks like we had a good hunt for such an early morning. Still, we should come back out later. It's good to stretch your legs." 'And to get away from a clan full of intruders.'

The member 'King Falcon I' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 3