[xvinn]

shadow of soaring (eagle) (she/her) | tribe of forgotten waters

Creeping along the mountain floor, one paw lightly on the ground after another. Dark green eyes shone in the undergrowth, focused tightly on a weasel in front of her. The creature had not yet detected what was going on, did not realize that its small life was about to come to an end. Shadow of Soaring Eagle just a tiny bit closer as to be sure she would not fall short in her aim. Her paws itched impatiently, aching for the feeling of a small life draining underneath her, the feeling of warm blood soaking between her claws. The feeling of the last few pumps of blood as the heart stopped in its final moments, teeth sinking in to a creature - a taste of death that it seemed most cats did not appreciate, but Eagle longed for it.

Just as she was ready to pounce, the weasel lifted its head - hearing something that Eagle had not prepared for. In fear that she might lose her chance, the tabby pounced, but whatever had alerted the creature had given it too much alarm as it managed to escape her grasp, digging its way into bushes and out of reach. An unsatisfied growl grew in Eagle's throat as she whipped her head around, looking for whatever might have chased off her prey. She opened her mouth, taking in the scents around her, though she could admit that she was salivating from the desire of killing her prey to a point that it made it a little more difficult to catch the specific scent.

"I hope you intend to help make up for lost caught-prey," Eagle huffed, speaking in the direction of the sound, her voice flat and unemotional as it often was.

@rooster ● 291

[Fawn]

Rooster winced, looking sheepish amongst the mountainous scrub as the full wattage of his sister's glare found him. "Sorry Sis, I forget you catch those things - they don't even look like prey." The musky, earthy scent of weasel still hung in the air like an invisible mist, making the roof of his palate itch with distaste. Rooster pointedly made the executive decision to not mention that he'd only sensed the weasel a few foxlengths back and had been coming over here to warn her. Or wherever he thought she was; his tracking abilities boiled down largely to being sight and sound based, and his littermate was very, very good at not being seen or heard.

He pictured the strange, scrawny weasel on the fresh kill pile, its mouth frozen open in a spasm of death, its pointed teeth visible. Isn't it weird to eat something with fangs? Then again, he supposed bigger animals with fangs also hunted smaller animals with fangs (smaller animals like Tribe cats), but that line of thinking became dangerous territory for debate over what could be called prey and what could be called predator. So he gave up. It was making his head hurt.

Grassy green eyes fixed onto Eagle's face, and he grinned another apology. "I won't get in your way this time, promise. You watch for scuttling things, I'll watch for flying things, and we'll both go back to the cave victorious." His sister was an incredible hunter, and to watch her actually take something down - it made his claws itch, as if he wanted to try it, just once, just to see what it felt like to land on a mouse and kill it. Rooster wasn't exactly bloodthirsty, but a little of their mother's prey-hunter blood liked to rear its head up like this. It almost made being a Cave-Guard seem...boring.

Rooster gave himself a good shake, loose bits of grit and dry grass flinging off as if the physical embodiment of that terrible thought. Don't be stupid. Being a cave-guard is the best thing there is.

OOC: xvinn
Just a himbo trying not to think too hard about stuff

[xvinn]

shadow of soaring (eagle) (she/her) | tribe of forgotten waters

The tip of Eagle's tail twitched with some annoyance as she tried to hold back a growl from her throat. There was a time, seasons ago, when she was jealous of her littermate - she had wanted nothing more as a young one to be a Cave-Guard, seeing it as one of the greatest things that one could be within the tribe, protecting them from predators and greedy Clan cats who thought they could roam their way through the mountains. She had wanted to fight to protect her family, tooth and claw, even if it meant bringing the life of other cats to an end. But Eagle struggled in her assessment, often unable to prevent the larger cats from getting around her. She had thought herself a failure, and it hadn't helped looking around at the wandering eyes of the Tribe who may have thought similar things about her.

Rooster had always proven himself to be strong and capable of being such the cat she had hoped for herself. There was a great envy in that feeling, though Eagle wanted to hide it away as best she could. Instead, she threw herself into her life as a Prey-Hunter, finding the joys that she had hoped she could find as a Cave-Guard here instead. Fortune smiled upon the cat when she found she would be able to taste blood far more often than many of her tribemates who had sworn themselves to protect the lives of their family.

Eagle looked up, "Perhaps if you see something, we can even try and catch it," she purred, "I'm sure I'm far from the only cat who's ever wondered what owl tastes like." The tabby she-cat let the thought hang in the air a brief moment, imagining the feeling of luring a large bird down to the ground, just low enough to catch it unprepared. The amount of feathers on such a creature could provide nesting for half the tribe, the body providing a meal for more mouths than she could imagine. She licked her lips a moment, almost forgetting her lost catch before her green gaze came down once more, looking over her brother.

"How is Camellia getting along?" she asked, already standing and getting ready to move and search out for a new creature to track. "I hope she is not giving you too much trouble." Eagle was unlikely to fuss over her children, and in fact, hadn't even stayed in the nursery all that long - as soon as the kits were weaned, she asked to return to her former duties as a Prey-Hunter, wishing to leave behind the stuffy smell and return to the mountainside. But that didn't stop her curiosity and her expectations for her kits, hoping that they would give their full attention to their guides and keep themselves in check.

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Fawn ● rooster ● 473

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