warriors: in the trees

chapter seven, moon eight

Thrushpaw crept through the trees quietly, taking delicate, small steps on his light paws He kept his ears perked up attentively, listening close for any slight shuffle of leaves, the squeak of a mouse, or flap of wings.

Two moons had passed, surprisingly quickly, since Thrushpaw was apprenticed. Thunderleg was a great mentor, not to mention a hunter, so Applestar determined it was time for Thrushpaw's first progress assessment.

The apprentice was tasked with catching as much prey as he could before Sunhigh. He was allowed to go anywhere in LavenderClan territory, but Thunderleg had assured Thrushpaw he would be constantly watching the apprentice. From where? Thrushpaw had no idea. There was no trace of his mentor anywhere near him.

Thrushpaw had already caught a mouse only a short amount of time into his assessment. He had buried it near a maple tree to hide the fresh kill from anything other than a cat that would eat it. The ginger apprentice opened his mouth to taste the air, hoping for another easy catch soon.

As Thrushpaw descended the slope down to Silverpools, he caught the scent of a magpie. The black and white bird was nibbling on a beetle. Thrushpaw prepared himself to kill another innocent creature.

It's for the greater good, The tabby apprentice reassured himself. Cats need food. He took a deep breath. For the Clan. For Moonstar.

Thrushpaw ducked into his hunter's crouch. He had almost perfected it over the past few moons, while his sisters were practicing battle skills (Thrushpaw did not participate, as he did not want to hurt Thunderleg. The few times he did, Sunclaw practically threatened him). Hunting was not a happy experience either for Thrushpaw, but at least the prey's wails of horror couldn't be understood.

Silence came with ease to Thrushpaw. It made up for his lack of camouflage. The magpie was so engulfed in his beetle that he didn't notice the ball of fire (physically, not emotionally) behind him. He also didn't notice being caught and killed.

Thrushpaw stood up with pride, bird in his jaws. He didn't have a taste for feathers, but he knew some cats did. He was proud to be able to feed them.

Thrushpaw didn't take longer than a second to look for Thunderleg's gold fur, he simply scurried off back into the bushes to hide from his next catch.

He set the magpie down and clawed at the ground, spraying dirt on the bird. He noticed the tree above where he buried his fresh-kill. Oak. Like everything else in this forest!

With a thud, an extra fat squirrel fell to the ground from the tree. Thrushpaw must have scared it. It looked like he tried to jump, but was rather... well, too big to land properly on his feet. This is going to be easy.

Thrushpaw didn't even have to crouch, he just pranced boldly over to the prey and trapped his tail in his claws, readying himself to snap its neck through its fat screams of terror...

"Wow, nice catch! You just walked right up to that squirrel!" A she-cat said behind him. Thrushpaw jumped a tail length in the air, letting the (what would be) fresh kill go.

"What in StarClan, who are you?" Thrushpaw snapped, whipping around to face the unfamiliar she-cat, who flinched back as Thrushpaw confronted her. She was silver and white, beautiful, and very skinny. Too skinny to be a clan cat.

She cleared her throat. "Oh, excuse me... didn't mean to make you lose that catch..."

Thrushpaw noticed that the she-cat was covered in claw marks. They ranged in size and location, and all looked like they'd been from a cat. Her eyes were red and puffy and watering. He felt sorry for snarling at her.