Mousebrained

[brightfeather]

Bright blue eyes blazed as they gazed through the fern, hidden from the unsuspecting mouse.
tail was lowered to avoid the large white and fluff being seen by her pray, the tip twitching back and forth, as if she could contain her excitement in that little tip of her tail.
Her target was an average-sized mouse, nudging its nose through the grass scenting for seeds.
The young feline had bathed thoroughly in the river before coming here to hunt, in an attempt to hide her scent. She bunched the muscles in her legs, ready to spring, and then she propelled herself into the air after the mouse.
Her mistake was miscalculating where to land.
She landed a couple of centimeters off, and the mouse had just enough time to realize what was happening and dart off into a patch of grass, hidden from her view.
Bright spat on the ground, angry at herself for being such a mousebrain. This was why her mother left... She was too stupid to catch her own meal. She swiped at a leaf to take out her anger, tail lashing back and forth and her whiskers quivering, too consumed in her memories and scaring off prey to notice anything around her.

[foxpelt]

Ringpaw, watching her friend Brightpaw trying to catch the mouse, quickly pounces on it as it comes right by her in an attempt to get away. Killing it quickly, she brings it to Brightpaw, placing it at her feet and sitting down, smiling. "Here you go, Brightpaw. That was a really good try! You nearly had it... it can be hard to judge how far you have to jump, can't it?" she mewed, sticking her tongue out at the last part. "Just a little ways away, I misjudged how far to jump in order to catch a thrush... got a couple of tailfeathers for my trouble. Still, I buried them. The kits in the nursery like to play with them, so that works out at least somewhat."

[brightfeather]

Brightpaw looked up at Ringpaw, her frustration leaving her expression as fast as a rabbit running from a cat.
"Thats actually really thoughtful. I'd probably never think of something like that and just leave the feathers behind... Oh, don't you hate it when you get those stuck to the top of your mouth? No matter what you do, they just never get loose!"
She demonstrated by licking the roof of her mouth, her face scrunched up into a silly expression.
Her tail twitched with amusement, to show that she was joking. "Okay! Time to try again and catch me a mouse! I can do it this time!"
She looked scented the air to find more prey, only to find that her previous rant had scared all of the prey away.

[blade]

Further into the ferns, another young feline was demonstrating her prowess in the field. She daintily placed one ivory paw in front of the other, ears lowered, belly fur brushing the ground, Inch by inch she crept foreword, nose scenting the air for shifts in the breeze. Her quarry, the oblivious avian trio, avidly pecking for minuscule bugs in the fallen leaves. Leaf-fall had been a trial for all species, with not enough sustenance to keep all the clans well fed. Soon, the lean moons would be upon them as Leaf-bare dug it's teeth into the forest, chilling valuable herbs and sending prey for their burrows. Yet, the clans must survive, and with StarClan's grace, Newleaf will come again. "Focus", the she-cat hissed under her breath. She could feel her maw begin to salivate at the thought of a fresh, warm, plump body between her claws. Finally, once her prey was about two mouse-lengths in front of her, the time to strike was neigh. She tensed her skinny frame, twitching her hide quarters in preparation for the leap. Unable to stifle a growl of impatience, she lept into the mass of birds. Apparently her presence was more than the prey expected, for the flock of starlings immediately burst into flight. Surprised by the sudden fluttering of wings, the tortoise-shell she-cat cowered under the onslaught of birds, bright amber eyes wide with tension. She whipped her tail about her with unease, reminding her of her of her naming origin; Flickerpaw. Once again she had failed at her hunting crouch. Dejected, she slunk away to a spot for better pickings. Despite all her training and late-night practices, again and again she had returned with a slim catch. It irked her that even the Fox-dung apprentice Acidpaw, half a moon younger than her, could defeat her in a hunting contest paws down. Life was unfair! Why should that degenerate, loud-mouthed, snappish feline be so gifted in the art of hunting? Her hackles rose at the memory of her last encounter with the golden enemy. She had been humiliated beyond belief, and only through vengeance would she gain peace of mind. Jolting herself from her reverie, Flickerpaw did a quick about face and padded for camp. Hopefully the other apprentices had better luck.