Post by mintedstar/fur on Dec 15, 2017 0:35:09 GMT -5
862 words! ѕωιƒтƒαℓcση
--
They last day in the swamp. Dreadmoon padded forward, black fur slicked back against his skin, wet with the muddy water that seemed to be the only common feature in this place. His foot sank into another puddle as he tried to navigate the patches of grass and peat moss that hung on - the only islands in this place.
“It’s dark out here,” noted Saltfeather as the thin legged tom padded after the black tom.
“It’s supposed to be, you dummy,” said Dreadmoon with a sigh. “The trees grow thick if they have a good source of water. Haven’t your paws gotten wet enough for you to figure that there is water here?”
Saltfeather ignored the snappy nature of his group-mate. Instead he just sniffed the air, one of his blue-gray paws shaking back and forth as he scattered drops of water every-which-way. “Are we going to continue to try and hunt or should we just head back.”
Another cat trailed behind Saltfeather, her tawny fur sticking up with discomfort. “Water, water, water,” she muttered under her breath every time she sat down her paw. She looked up hopefully at Saltfeather’s words, but Dreadmoon quickly shot that down.
“No. Rattlesnake and the others expect us to bring back food. We all still need to eat, whether we leave tomorrow or not. Especially if we leave tomorrow.”
“We are more likely to catch fresh prey on the move,” countered Saltfeather. “So, would it not be better to count our losses and get out of this cold water?”
“And you, named for the sea and everything,” scoffed Dreadmoon.
“Can we please go back?” chimed in the tawny she-cat, eyes sparking. Her young body was limber, but even she seemed worn after trekking through the swamp.
Dreadmoon cast her a look and huffed. “We can catch something on the way back. Do you hear me?”
Saltfeather and the tawny she-cat nodded their heads and Dreadmoon knew that the she-cat, Tawnyfur, would agree to anything at this point. Saltfeather was probably just thinking about what she wanted anyway. Him, caring about others more than himself. This annoyed Dreadmoon for some reason.
The black tom altered his course, turning to the right and hopped from grassy outlet to grassy outlet. Saltfeather just trekked through the water, his shorter fur not seeming to retain it as easily. Tawnyfur padded forward like a snake was going to jump out of the water and bite her on her dainty nose. Dreadmoon snorted at the mental image.
Once again, he scented the air, this time catching the scent of a frog just as he wanted to. Sloshing through the water after one of the creatures that was always easy prey. He twitched his ear, telling the others using body language that he’d found something to catch.
Saltfeather paused and waited. Tawnyfur missed the signal to begin with, to busy shaking out muddy brown water from a white paw. Saltfeather coughed and she finally stopped, looking up and blinked at him. She remained still as Dreadmoon stalked forward, slipping through the muddy ground and water with much more ease than he’d first hinted at being capable of. The small, brown body of the frog wasn’t easy to pick out, but the black tom finally saw it when it blinked its eyes. Tail tip twitching, he paused, hunkering further down and bunching the muscles in his hunches.
He leaped forward, mud spraying out around him as he landed, claws sinking into the frog and bring his mouth to it to deliver a killing bite. His back paws had almost slipped out from under him at the last second.
Shaking his fur out once again and turning around with the frog in his mouth, he blinked at Saltfeather. It was now up to him to do the hunting, along with Tawnyfur. But honestly, Dreadmoon didn’t expect much from her. She was far more suited to hunting in the forests.
Saltfeather sniffed the air, shaking his head. “Can’t smell anything over the swamp water.” Dreadmoon shrugged and then turned, walking back in the direction of where Rattlesnake had taken up camp. Behind him, he suddenly heard a yelp and he turned to look. Tawnyfur had lost her foots, legs slipping down a small rise. She was sprawled out, brown mud up and down her haunches and a slightly panicked look on her face. Saltfeather looked ahead, chuckling. “You whipped-out,” he muttered. He took a few steps to follow after her, pawsteps careful so as not to
slip.
“Oh, ho, ho,” said Tawnyfur, picking herself up. Saltfeather, walking forward, was too busy watching his paws instead of Tawnyfur. Her long tail flicked into his face and he stumbled, loosing his balance in the same mud that she had.
Dreadmoon watched them, eyes completely blank. Finally, he said around his mouth. “I’m the only one who isn’t going to look like a mud monster.” Both of the cats slowly turned their heads to him and Dreadmoon got what they were both thinking.
“Oooooh no. Goodbye.” And he turned on his heels, running back to camp easily while the other two chased after him, slipping and sliding.
--
They last day in the swamp. Dreadmoon padded forward, black fur slicked back against his skin, wet with the muddy water that seemed to be the only common feature in this place. His foot sank into another puddle as he tried to navigate the patches of grass and peat moss that hung on - the only islands in this place.
“It’s dark out here,” noted Saltfeather as the thin legged tom padded after the black tom.
“It’s supposed to be, you dummy,” said Dreadmoon with a sigh. “The trees grow thick if they have a good source of water. Haven’t your paws gotten wet enough for you to figure that there is water here?”
Saltfeather ignored the snappy nature of his group-mate. Instead he just sniffed the air, one of his blue-gray paws shaking back and forth as he scattered drops of water every-which-way. “Are we going to continue to try and hunt or should we just head back.”
Another cat trailed behind Saltfeather, her tawny fur sticking up with discomfort. “Water, water, water,” she muttered under her breath every time she sat down her paw. She looked up hopefully at Saltfeather’s words, but Dreadmoon quickly shot that down.
“No. Rattlesnake and the others expect us to bring back food. We all still need to eat, whether we leave tomorrow or not. Especially if we leave tomorrow.”
“We are more likely to catch fresh prey on the move,” countered Saltfeather. “So, would it not be better to count our losses and get out of this cold water?”
“And you, named for the sea and everything,” scoffed Dreadmoon.
“Can we please go back?” chimed in the tawny she-cat, eyes sparking. Her young body was limber, but even she seemed worn after trekking through the swamp.
Dreadmoon cast her a look and huffed. “We can catch something on the way back. Do you hear me?”
Saltfeather and the tawny she-cat nodded their heads and Dreadmoon knew that the she-cat, Tawnyfur, would agree to anything at this point. Saltfeather was probably just thinking about what she wanted anyway. Him, caring about others more than himself. This annoyed Dreadmoon for some reason.
The black tom altered his course, turning to the right and hopped from grassy outlet to grassy outlet. Saltfeather just trekked through the water, his shorter fur not seeming to retain it as easily. Tawnyfur padded forward like a snake was going to jump out of the water and bite her on her dainty nose. Dreadmoon snorted at the mental image.
Once again, he scented the air, this time catching the scent of a frog just as he wanted to. Sloshing through the water after one of the creatures that was always easy prey. He twitched his ear, telling the others using body language that he’d found something to catch.
Saltfeather paused and waited. Tawnyfur missed the signal to begin with, to busy shaking out muddy brown water from a white paw. Saltfeather coughed and she finally stopped, looking up and blinked at him. She remained still as Dreadmoon stalked forward, slipping through the muddy ground and water with much more ease than he’d first hinted at being capable of. The small, brown body of the frog wasn’t easy to pick out, but the black tom finally saw it when it blinked its eyes. Tail tip twitching, he paused, hunkering further down and bunching the muscles in his hunches.
He leaped forward, mud spraying out around him as he landed, claws sinking into the frog and bring his mouth to it to deliver a killing bite. His back paws had almost slipped out from under him at the last second.
Shaking his fur out once again and turning around with the frog in his mouth, he blinked at Saltfeather. It was now up to him to do the hunting, along with Tawnyfur. But honestly, Dreadmoon didn’t expect much from her. She was far more suited to hunting in the forests.
Saltfeather sniffed the air, shaking his head. “Can’t smell anything over the swamp water.” Dreadmoon shrugged and then turned, walking back in the direction of where Rattlesnake had taken up camp. Behind him, he suddenly heard a yelp and he turned to look. Tawnyfur had lost her foots, legs slipping down a small rise. She was sprawled out, brown mud up and down her haunches and a slightly panicked look on her face. Saltfeather looked ahead, chuckling. “You whipped-out,” he muttered. He took a few steps to follow after her, pawsteps careful so as not to
slip.
“Oh, ho, ho,” said Tawnyfur, picking herself up. Saltfeather, walking forward, was too busy watching his paws instead of Tawnyfur. Her long tail flicked into his face and he stumbled, loosing his balance in the same mud that she had.
Dreadmoon watched them, eyes completely blank. Finally, he said around his mouth. “I’m the only one who isn’t going to look like a mud monster.” Both of the cats slowly turned their heads to him and Dreadmoon got what they were both thinking.
“Oooooh no. Goodbye.” And he turned on his heels, running back to camp easily while the other two chased after him, slipping and sliding.
