Hunting in the Dark (Open)

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Shadows stretched across the ground. A cold, leaf-fall wind blew across the land, sending dieing leaves scattering across the ground. A black tom raced swiftly through the forest, only visible by his snow white paw and tail tip. Only tail lengths away, a mouse scuttled about. It was large and the tom guessed that it wouldn't be fast enough to escape him if it noticed his presence.

Once he was close enough to his prey, Batwing leaped and landed a whiskers length away from it. Startled, the mouse began to run, but was stopped as he planted his paw on the animal's tail.

The black tom sneered, pulled the mouse back towards him, and batted it back and forth. Torturing prey before making the kill was so fun. After a while, he got tired of messing around with it and slashed his claws down it's side. In heartbeats, it lay on the ground, dead.

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Flightwhisker had been hunting herself, as there hadn't been enough activity around camp when nothing else was going on. Most of the time, the she-cat tried to occupy her time with thinking about possible strategies and ideas for Foxflight's movement. But nothing significant ever arose, and the sandy-white tabby would grow quickly bored. But it wasn't like hunting in the recent cold was that much fun, either. Bitter air pricked at her paws from the cool earth, and whenever a wind buffered past, her claws would quickly sink into the earth as she tried to keep the cold away from her mind.

But the sounds of scuffling earth and the squeal of dying prey had attracted her attention. With a not-so-large squirrel in her jaws, the warrior nonchalantly made her way over to the source. Her hazel eyes picked out the dark pelt of Batwing just beyond a holly bush. She watched quietly as the tom began hitting the mouse rather that killing it quickly, not seeming to be shocked or alarmed as the looked on. Finally, when the tom seemed to have grown bored, his claws made a long cut down the creature's small body. Flightwhisker blinked and twitched her whiskers as she watched the blood begin to slowly spill out. How odd, she thought to herself.

The she-cat then padded closer to where the tom stood over his kill and placed her own at her paws. "That was a little prolonged, don't you think?" she mewed, not sounding accusing, but rather almost bored. "I wouldn't think all that was really necessary over one little scrawny mouse. The scraps can't be near as much fun as the bigger prey."

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Batwing turned around and stared at Flightwhisker. Why did I not scent her? But it didn't matter. She was here now. "Good evening, Flightwhisker," he said with cold politeness. "What brings you here?"

He smiled at her comment. It sounded as though someone wasn't utterly disgusted by his method of catching prey. "All prey is the same to me. No matter how big or small they are, you can always have a good time watching them suffer."

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Flightwhisker shrugged. "Just hunting. That's about it." The she-cat's tone seemed to be brushing the conversation off her shoulder as unimportant. She was finding that fewer and fewer things were actually seeming to be important enough to really capture her attention. This situation here was one of them. Things were always just too dull.

Thankfully, the next thing that the tom said inspired hope in the tabby she-cat for a more interesting conversation. She mirrored a smile, small but thoughtful. "I'd suppose. But still, if it was me that was going after prey like that, I'd look for something with a bigger shriek. Something that would really make some noise as it died. Sure, it would scare the rest of the prey away, but this kind of hunting looks like it's just for the fun of it all." Flightwhisker then sat down where she was, the squirrel still in front of her, a cold statue of what it had been. "Like a crow."

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Batwing blinked. He'd never really talked to the she-cat before, so he never got to know her. It was... interesting talking to her. He'd never really been able to open up to people as he thought they would shun him for his-how would he put it-odd ways.

The black tom stared up at the sky. "I suppose your right," he said after a moment of thought. His smile grew wider. "The sound of prey screaming in pain... It's music to my ears..." But inside he knew that it wasn't just the sound of prey screaming that he truly enjoyed. No, it was the sound of a fellow cat screeching in terror that he truly longed for...

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As Flightwhisker watched him, her whiskers twitched in amusement. This tom was a strange one, he was. But that made him all the more interesting. While she herself had never been much of a cat for torturing prey, or killing in general, she wasn't opposed to either or at this point. To much had changed since her earliest days as an apprentice. "You're a funny tom, I must say," she mewed, a glimmer in her eyes. "Kind of a sadist. But whatever. I suppose I can understand what you mean." The lightly colored tabby looked up to the sky as well, as if she could see the same something there that he seemed to be focusing on. "Hearing that cry, begging for mercy that they won't ever get."

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"Funny, eh?" Batwing's eyes narrowed. He'd put to much trust in the she-cat. He'd thought that he'd found someone like him. I guess I thought wrong...

An eerie silence hung in the air. To the black tom, it seemed like someone was there, watching them... watching...

He leaped into the bushes, claws unsheathed. A loud shriek filled the air, only to be cut off. He reappeared, a squirrel hanging limply from his jaws.

His smile disappeared as he dropped it in front of Flightwhisker. "How was that?"

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The tabby tilted her head at his remark. "Yeah, funny. That's not a bad thing, just funny." She closed her eyes for a heartbeat and shrugged. "You have to understand- there aren't many cats around here that act the way you do. That's all."

When she opened her hazel eyes again, it was due to the sudden shriek in the air. They opened up quickly, just in time to catch a flash of different colored furs seem to be falling from the sky. There stood Batwing with a dead squirrel hanging limply in his jaws, dead as her own. The she-cat found herself grinning. "Brilliant! See what I was saying? Louder shrieks are much better than just a mouse whimper." Her tail swished to and fro behind her as she looked at the dead thing. "Impressive, by the way. I didn't even see it happen."

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"I suppose." Batwing didn't know why he was this way. He just... was... He had no horrible past, he wasn't power hungry, it was just how he had grown up.

"It is much more enjoyable," he agreed. He listened as she continued. She was complementing him? "Thank you... I guess... You can have the squirrel, by the way. You weren't on a patrol, so your free to eat what you catch. You weren't on a patrol, right?"

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At the offer, Flightwhisker just shook her tail and waved her tail. "Nah, I'm good. It's you're kill, after all. And I've got my own, here, anyways." The tabby she-cat nudged the lifeless body with her paw. "And no, I wasn't on patrol. But come to think of it, I'm not really hungry, either. Just figured I should do some hunting to keep my paws busy. The Clan could make use of it, too." She flicked an ear around to shoo away some bug buzzing around it. She was loosing interest again. The warrior began stretching out the muscles in her legs, enjoying the tugging feeling. "Don't you want it? Your kill, your feast. And judging by what you caught, 'feast' is a good term for it."

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Little Turtlekit wasn't supposed to be this far from camp, but she had always been so very curious and had wandered. A mouse hung from the tiny kits jaws, her little bobtail lashed back and forth as she padded along, purring happily. She was incredibly proud of herself, her ears and eyes low in contentment. Her ears picked up voices directly ahead of her and she padded past the other cats, her mismatched eyes looking at the older warriors curiously. She had one green eye like her grandmother, one gold like her father's.

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Batwing was about to say something to the she-cat when he spotted Turtlekit passing by in the corner of his eye. He turned to face the kit and noticed a mouse hanging limply from her jaws.

"Wha-where did you get that?" he said, a hint of growl in his voice. "And what are you doing so far away from camp? Don't you know that kit's aren't allowed out here?" he felt the fur along his back begin to bristle.

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Turtlekit's fur puffed up at his angry remark. "I caught it!" She spat at him, her angry little kit's voice a bit off from it's pitch. "Dont chu get angry with me! My daddy will bite your tail off!" She hissed, her little bobbed tail lashing. She was going to take after Mousefur's size, but Riddlehawk's strength and temper. Of course, couldn't be one of the other could she? Her little eyes narrowed as she picked up her mouse again.

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"You caught it?" the black tom spat in disbelief. "Like I'm going to believe that a kit caught their own prey." He took a step toward the small kit, tail lashing.

"Your dad's not going to get mad at me if he finds out that I was scolding you for wandering out of camp. It's more likely that he'll bite your tail off!"

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"Where else would I get it, mousebrain?" Turtlekit mewed in irritation. She grumbled a bit at the scolding part but got a mischevious grin when he mentioned getting her tail bitten off. "My daddy can't bite my tail off, silly. I don't gots one."

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