60 Feet [SOLO]

The sun was setting on the forest, giving the snow a blinding orange glow. Despite the fact that days were getting longer and brighter, the snow didn’t show signs of melting anytime soon. Adderflare hoped for a heatwave; the snow kept matting her pelt and stung on her bare skin. It was pretty though, she gave it that. She liked how it reflected the sun, and how pristine it looked in the mornings. She hated ruining it, so she tried not to venture out before the morning patrols. She didn’t have such qualms now; the snow had long since been disturbed, pawprints and little bloodstains from successful hunts pockmarked its surface. It crunched beneath her feet as she headed out of camp.

An Asylum cat tailed her from afar, but for once she barely cared. She was finally able to do things again. Run. Hunt. Heck, maybe even climb. Weeks of pent-up energy bubbling to the surface, she broke into a run. She didn’t care where she was headed, nor what she’d do when she got there. For the hour she had before nightfall, she just wanted to stretch her legs again. The freezing powder rose up in soft clouds around her feet as she galloped through the snow, weaving this way and that to avoid trees and bushes. This was living.

She probably would have ran until she collapsed had she not spotted the squirrel. It was a small thing, gaunt from the harsh leaf-bare. It didn’t look like much of a meal, or even that fun a hunt, but it stopped Adderflare in her tracks. She hadn’t caught anything since… Well, since she found out she was pregnant. And even slightly before then she’d been too swollen to hunt successfully. Now, unburdened by kits, she bolted after the poor creature. It saw her coming; not even starvation could curb its prey instincts. She respected that, she thought idly as she gave chase. A laugh bubbled up in her throat, though it barely made a sound with her static vocal chords. She sped up, then slowed down, then sped up, then slowed again. Hunting was more fun when the prey thought it had a chance. The squirrel zigzagged, ducked, weaved, anything to get rid of her. But she wouldn’t let up, there was no way she was losing to a rodent.

Then it saw the tree.

It was a pine, a massive one. About 60 feet. The squirrel, sure it was in the clear, scampered up the tree as fast as its little legs would carry it. Adderflare could hear its erratic breathing from down here. She stopped. Unsheathed her claws. Climbing was never her strong suit, and maybe if she were less adrenaline-pumped she would care. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t. She jumped onto the tree, claws digging into its bark. Her tail swayed uselessly from side to side, no good for balance. No, she had to rely on her claws alone to get to this little rodent. Overconfident, she began to climb.

She gained height surprisingly fast for a cat with little to no sensation in half of her body. She felt like a fish in water, like a bird in the air. Unstoppable. She could see the squirrel now. It had noticed her and was climbing ever higher, like a tantalising piece of meat being dangled on a string. She was a good 30 feet up now, and still she climbed.

She was high enough now for the wind, previously still, to blow the fur on her face askew and make her rabbit pelt flap lazily. Still she climbed.

Finally. She was a tail-length away from the critter, who had scampered onto a short branch. It had nowhere to run- There were no trees nearby, and no higher to climb. She had it. Not bothering to check how high up she was, sure she’d be in for a short fall and a soft landing if she fell, she stepped onto the branch. She took another step, then another. She didn’t hear the wood creaking, or feel it buckling beneath her. She took another step, closing the distance between her and the creature.

Snap.

For a moment she felt giddy, like she was flying. Then, she began to fall. The squirrel fell with her, frozen with shock. Adderflare’s rabbit pelt fluttered like a cape behind her, just barely hanging onto her body. Quicker and quicker she descended.

50 feet. The falling snow had no time to settle on her face, the upward-rushing air blowing it away as it came. The squirrel was lighter, and fell slower than Adderflare. It would probably be fine, maybe even land on a branch on the way down. She would be jealous, had adrenaline and panic not been the only things flooding her mind.

40 feet. She wasn’t gaining speed as fast now. It almost felt like floating, if floating was fast and terrifying and ended with death. From the corner of her eye, Adderflare noticed the squirrel slam into a branch. ”I hope that hurt,” she thought bitterly through her terror.

30 feet. Adderflare was beginning to calm down now. She was upright. She was spread out, like her instincts told her to. When she landed, all she’d have to do was see Beechface. Ew, but perhaps better than death?

20 feet. Her rabbit pelt, refusing to let go of her shoulders until now, snagged on a branch. The beautiful fur parted from her own with an unsatisfying rip, offsetting Adderflare’s balance. Her legs were askew, and she was slowly spinning in the air. She was falling faster than ever. Back first.

10 feet. She could almost smell solid ground now. Panic filled her mind once again. Her body fought desperately to right itself. But she had no rudder, and was out of time to make do without one. She closed her eyes, and braced for-

Crack.

0 feet.