Post by blade on Jun 29, 2012 9:02:39 GMT -8
Heat hazed upon the clearing like golden honey, hot and sticky, almost tangible in the moist, tropical air. Sunlight beat down mercilessly on the once-vibrant grasses, sparkling in the gentle flow of the river. Despite the oppressive temperature, prey continued to run rampant, bird calls slicing through the sultry breezes. Among the riverside, the golden pelt of a she-cat could be glimpsed. Padding noiselessly through the long reeds, she expertly placed one paw in front of the other, ears pricked for the tempting scuttle of mice, or possibly a vole. Despite her intentions, her short fur clung to her like a drowned rat, the muggy atmosphere pressing in on her akin to a heavy blanket. As the Greenleaf days continued, she knew the weather would become hotter and hotter, eventually driving prey to hide. While hunting was plentiful she planned to stock up on fresh-kill, and hopefully prevent a famine. The elders had spoken of a time when the apprentices became lazy due to the heat and let duty slide. Because of their error, three kits and and a queen had almost succumbed to dehydration and nearly answered the call of StarClan. Shaking her head to dislodge her thoughts, the she-cat paused at the edge of the river. The water level had dwindled, revealing the beige rock strata that built up the sides. On the bank however, a small questing nose poked up into the air. Noticing the creature the she-cat paused. Instead of pouncing however, she froze, alarm bells ringing in her head. The faint ripple in the grasses caused the fur on her neck to rise. Oblivious to the looming danger, the rodent clumsily wandered into the sunlight. The grasses twitched, as a long slender, ribbon-like body darted from the shadows. Twin fangs latched onto the creature, almost biting the furry body in two. It was then that the she-cat struck. Launching a sharp blow to the back of the snake's head, she stunned the predator, while with her right paw she punctured the brain. The snake fell limp, no longer a malevolent hunter, just another piece of fresh-kill, beady black eyes glazed over with the haze of death. The she-cat gently grabbing the snake prepared to drag it back to camp. Granted, this was merely a water-carrying duty, but no one would begrudge her if she came back with a juicy morsel for the pile.
