~ oatpelt ~
15 moons, tom, wc
cold... oatpelt shivered as he crouched down in the grass of the moors. fronds brushed against his pelt as he crept forward, ears swivelling around as he crept toward something. he wasn't entirely sure what it was- he wasn't upwind, but he wasn't downwind either... his belly brushed against the snow-covered ground as he continued following at a quickening pace, hoping desperately that it was a rabbit, coming out to search for food among the remains of the grass. it was when he lifted his head slightly to check on his progress, that he realised he was chasing a rabbit after all. the snow made it difficult to scent prey, the cold making his nose freeze up.
as he stalked within range of hearing (and seeing) the rabbit's paws pattering on the grassy ground, his legs began moving on their own. leaping toward it, he dropped directly on top of it and dispatched it quickly. then, his ears were alerted to another presence. whipping around on his paws, he spotted some white fur among the snow- it was difficult to see, that was probably why he hadn't seen it yet.
oh, he really hoped that he hadn't just stolen the catch from his fellow warrior.
Oatpelt was clearly not comforted by Sheepcurl taking that moment to calm down, as he seemed to shiver regardless, his pelt rippling with his discomfort at being scolded like he was still an apprentice. At one point, the young tom had been confident and proud, but the dog attack he had suffered had just beat the fight out of his spirit. Now he was anxious, paranoid, and fretful.
Those same, wide, pitiful eyes fixed on Sheepcurl as he finally looked up to him, with a saddened frown.
"I know." He mewed, "It's just hard to smell anything with all this snow. Taking a rabbit back in this weather, especially one that big... it was just..." He flattened his ears. "I got too excited." He stood up, and pawed the rabbit back toward himself.
"Are...are you sure? You caught it." He tried his best to make himself stand more upright.