[Phoenix]

Surely no cat in their right mind would consider this place beautiful at all, but Hailstrike had never said that she was alright in the head. For her, the place had an odd, different kind of beauty, rather than the traditional, pleasing-to-the-eye beauty that most cats appreciated. Hailstrike included herself in the latter group, but she also noticed the poetry to this landscape. The sparse vegetation contrasted with the numerous rocks, and they cast oddly shaped shadows when the sun began to set. She would know, too; the she-cat often stayed out, either hunting or patrolling, well after the sun fell.

A figure broke from the monotony of the landscape, lunging forward quickly, a paw slashing out. Hailstrike, successfully killing the mouse, dug a shallow hole in the rocky ground and put the mouse in, tossing a few pebbles over its grave. She would return to collect it, but for now, she was after more prey. Scenting the air, the experienced warrior moved off, paws lightly touching the ground, making minimal noise. Practiced ears picked up the sound of a living creature, probably a mouse, snuffling around just beyond the rock in front of her.

Taking note of the sun's position, Hailstrike perched on the rock, careful not to cast a shadow over the area. She unsheathed a claw and listened for another moment, forming a reasonable guess as to the mouse's location. Focused completely on her prey, the warrior calmed paused before peering down under the over hanging rock, bringing her claw down with a single motion. The mouse was there, but she was off with her calculation and missed. Skittering off, the creature fled from under the stone. Instantly, Hailstrike pursued, leaping off of her rock and into an improvised lunge, claws outstretched. Cursing when she missed again, she scrambled forward, attacking again and this time, managing to catch the critter.

It was an ugly catch and had displaced numerous stones, alerting other animals to her presense. Rather vindictively, for the mouse had caused her so much trouble, Hailstrike broke the thing's neck. At least it was a rather large mouse, though it had been quick despite its chubbiness. It was prey. Picking it up again, Hailstrike reoriented herself before trotting back to the other mouse. Before dropping her most recent catch, the warrior sighed when she realized that she would have to move to another part of the terrain. Annoyed, she began to dig up her mouse, but stilled a moment after. What was that she had heard?

[Deleted]

Perhaps the scrublands were not typically pleasing to the eye, but it was peaceful enough if you fancied a bit of time to yourself. Fawnchaser was not an antisocial cat, but from time to time he would start to find the constant movement and close proximity of so many other cats stifling, to say the least. It was during moments like that he would slip away to the scrublands or the borders or the little woods, to get his thoughts and his emotions in order again. He hadn’t been wandering through the area for long before his stomach began to protest. The scrublands being the smorgasbord of small prey animals that it was, he saw no reason to turn back to the camp just yet.

The lack of cover had the tom’s job a bit more difficult than necessary, however, and the bird he had been carefully stalking caught wind of him only to fumble into the air with a call of surprise. He made a desperate leap after it, claws unsheathed; undignified it might have been, but when he dropped back to the ground with a crunch of pebbles his paws were full. The sparrow offered nothing more than a token resistance, still mostly dazed from its impact with the ground, and its struggles were quickly ended as he sunk his teeth into its body.

The feathers tickled his nose and the roof of his mouth, and he dropped the limp body to the ground, only to pause as something else caught his attention. Listening carefully, he could make out the sound of scattering rocks and cursing in a voice that was both familiar and not at the same time. Curious, he turned to the source of the noise... and then as an afterthought, turned back to pick up his sparrow-prize before slinking off in the direction the ruckus had been coming from. He probably wasn’t the only one who had heard, and there were few things more frustrating that putting effort into a hunt and then having it taken away by scavengers.

In a stealthy crouch, he rounded a large rock... and relaxed as he recognised who this she-cat was. ''Hailstrike,'' he said with a little sigh of relief, infinitely pleased to have found another Clan cat rather than one of the other large predators known to roam the valley. He didn't know her very well beyond her name, but surely even a hostile cat was better to deal with than badgers or foxes or even the demon cat. He approached the other StoneClan warrior, taking in the she-cat’s posture and the unmoving corpse at her paws, and made a quick guess at the situation. ''The mice giving you trouble today?'' Really, he had no room to talk, the dust over his pelt and his general out-of-breathness were testament to that.

[Phoenix]

Senses on high alert, Hailstrike glared at her surroundings, unsheathed claws sinking into the ground. A rock skittered to her side and she whipped around, eyes locking on a rock. When nothing moved, she turned back, tail lashing in irritation. Thoughts of predators and becoming the prey filled her mind, and she scented the air. A piece of vegetation shifted as something - probably a mouse - moved away, but it still drew her attention. Staring at it, she told herself to calm down, to stop wasting time. Now she was just being paranoid; how many times had she been here, hunting alone, and had anything happened to her? No. Though she knew the wisdom behind making sure she was truly alone, bviously there was no one else there, despite what her gut feel--

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pale shape move and whipped around, ready to flinch away from an attack that surely came from one of those predators. A voice, vaguely familiar, interrupted her startled thoughts. It spoke her name. Letting out the breath she didn't know she was holding, Hailstrike forced her tense muscles to relax as she tried to remember the tom's name. Since she often chose hunting or patrolling over relaxing and bonding with clanmates, Hailstrike usually had trouble remembering the names of even her denmates; thus, she avoided directly addressing them.

The other warrior's pelt was covered with dirt, she noted, and a dead bird lay at his paws, much like the mice lay at her's. It appeared as though the bird had made him work for its life. Clearing her throat, Hailstrike straightened up, conscious now of the dirt that must also coat her fur after her struggle with the mouse. He inquired about the mice. Irritation sparked back to life in her; did he question her hunting abilities? A small part of her mind reminded her that his tone had not been accusing, in fact, sounding rather amused instead. Then was he laughing at her? That wouldn't do.

"The mice are fine. They are well worth whatever trouble they may have given me," She answered in a flat voice, "This one paid for its actions. An elder will enjoy it tonight." With a paw, she nudged the chubby mouse, giving it a disdainful look. Blue eyes found the sparrow at his paws, and she returned the observation, tail flicking lightly, "That bird gave you some trouble, I see. It appears that I am not the only one with hunting troubles today." Hailstrike was not pleased with admitting a weakness, but the thought that it was not just her with that problem soothed her wounded pride some.