amateurs at war [closed]

passive bonus: +2 to hunting success range

The uneasy peace made Flywhisker’s blood boil. Had it been only Jaystar insisting on it, they might have voiced their concerns (privately, without suggesting that RiverClan’s leader had less spine than a rabbit) to Perchfall or Cloverheart. Their deputy was brave and sensible, and their medicine cat knew the stars better than anyone else in RiverClan did. Surely one of them would have listened, then. But both had fallen into line instead, cementing the Dark Forest’s presence within their camp as reality. This was the new normal. It gutted Flywhisker in an entirely foreign way. Soldiering on through hardship was a warrior’s duty, but…their kits weren’t warriors yet. They deserved the old normal. The real normal. And Flywhisker, though fully named, could do nothing for them but try to preserve the fragments that remained.

Today, that meant herding Rushpaw onto RiverClan’s territory promptly at sunrise, all the while trying very hard not to glare at the pair of Dark Forest cats that trailed behind. As they slowed, the half-frozen river babbled before them. At their backs sat a cluster of beech trees, snow and long-dead leaves clinging to their branches. “This is the Beech Copse,” Flywhisker said, turning to face their son with a wave of their scraggly tail. “We’re training here today. Hunting’s one of the most important things you can learn as a warrior, and this is the best spot for it.” While they couldn’t shield Rushpaw from the Dark Forest cats, they could ensure he wouldn’t find himself scrambling to learn how to catch land prey the way so many RiverClanners had only a season or two ago.

Rushpaw padded along, following closely to Flywhisker. His eyes raked the forest, soaking in every bit of the territory the pair of them passed. The filthy snow clung to his paw pads but he hardly noticed it. The young tom was interested in taking in as much as he could. Intense green eyes lapped up the sights, relishing in what was around them. For as impressive as their camp was, it was nowhere near as stunning as this, even though the scenery was bathed in white and brown hues. Every so often, this made his paws lag and he would fall slightly behind before quickening his pace to catch up.

He had no idea what to expect as he stepped into this new role. By Flywhisker would teach him. The warrior was not only his parent but also now a mentor. Admittedly, the dark russet tom thought little of his mother. She'd been gone his whole life and it did not matter much to him. But Flywhisker was everything, they'd been a guide for as long as Rushpaw could remember. As soon as they spoke, his ears perked and he nodded. There was a determination, mostly spurred by the direction of his mentor rather than personal goals. He simply wanted to impress Flywhisker.

"I'm ready. Whatever you have to teach me, I'll learn it."

Despite the early hour and undead shadows hanging over their shoulders, Rushpaw’s resolve shone in his posture and voice. Like parent, like kit. Flywhisker’s somber mood cracked just enough to allow a smile through. It didn’t last; they had a lesson to teach. “We’ll start with fishing. It’s too cold to stand in the river right now, so…” They picked their way across the riverbank until the water rested in shadow and the ice, already leaf-thin, pulled away from the land. “Here’s a good spot,” they called over their shoulder, motioning with their tail, then brushing snowmelt aside until there was room for themself and Rushpaw. “Sit so your shadow doesn’t fall on the water, it’ll scare the fish.”

That was the easy part. Trying to explain hunting, whether land prey or fish, was like trying to teach a kitten how to clean their own pelt. It was second nature, if it hadn’t been from the beginning. They had never thought about breaking that knowledge into words before; they’d never needed to. Except now they did, and they had no clue where to start. “No matter what you’re going after,” Flywhisker began, gaze shifting from Rushpaw to the ice bobbing in the river, “hunting’s all about—”

What they’d planned to say was patience. Instead their voice died to nothing, and their eyes went wide—for, as they had looked up the river, they’d caught a glimpse of greenish-brown scales. Something much better than the minnows and frogs they’d been forced to bring home recently. Some cats learned best through demonstration. Flywhisker was one; maybe their son would be another. Their next words were barely a whisper. “Y’know what? It’ll make more sense I show you first.” With that, they slipped into a crouch and slowly, almost painstakingly began to creep along the riverbank until they were level with their target.

One moment they were pulling their paw free of the river, a shining chub secured on their claws; the next, they were tumbling ears over tail through the melting snow. The right half of their face felt suspiciously wet. Warm wet. A match for the metallic scent flooding their nose. Closing their eye before blood could trickle into it, Flywhisker scrambled upright to glare at the interruption: an eagle, hovering, happily tearing chunks out of the fish that struggled in its talons. That fish belonged to RiverClan. They would take it back, no question; they’d faced worse in their life—in the past moon, even—than some stupid bird. Yet as they glanced over their shoulder, their tongue almost, almost managed to twist their words from Rushpaw into run, and that scared Flywhisker more than any eagle could. “Rushpaw! We’re bringing this thing down, we won’t be able to catch anything ‘til it’s dead. Stay away from the pointy parts—that’s its face and talons.”

Flywhisker attempted to catch Fish, using 7 stamina. The attempt was interrupted!
Eagle used Swoop on Flywhisker, dealing 9 damage and using 15 stamina.

Flywhisker
21/30 HP (-9)
73/80 SP (-7)

Eagle
40/40 HP
110/125 SP (-15)

The member 'rhindon' has done the following action : Dice roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 10