Hunting Practice [Closed]

When he returned home last night, a warrior approached him and told him that Ravenheart agreed to mentor him. Crowpaw gave a muttered thank-you in response and proceeded to flop into his nest.

A voice called out his name. His paw twitched and he sighed. Go eat? Isn't it against the code to eat before I've given to the Clan for the day? Crowpaw wondered. He wasn't hungry anyway.

The black-and-white apprentice padded out of the den with ease, his small body hardly brushing the entrance. He walked over to his mentor and dipped his head, awaiting instruction.

It hit him suddenly: For the first time in months, Crowpaw had a mentor, an opportunity to finish his training, escape the crowded apprentices' den, and earn his warrior name. His paws tingled at the thought and he kneaded the ground, his body trembling.

Ravenheart flicked his tail and headed out of camp. Crowpaw shot after him, his tail waving high in the air. Finally, a reason to leave, someone to tell him exactly what he needed to do. While many of his Clanmates seemed content with the lack of organization that came with a leader and deputy, Crowpaw hated it. He couldn't stand not being given instructions on where he needed to be, when he needed to be there, and what he needed to do there.

The forest felt different, more alive, with his paws following the path of another. Crowpaw took in his surroundings: As usual, crows screeching startled the young tom, and he jumped and glanced up at every sharp noise. Somehow, despite his physical instincts, he felt safer, more at home, with Ravenheart around. He knew next to nothing about his mentor--for all Crowpaw knew, he planned to abandon him at Carrionplace--but he stayed close regardless, happy to have another cat to share the day with. Whether or not it was Ravenheart's idea of a good time he didn't know, but they were stuck together and Crowpaw certainly wouldn't complain.

Crowpaw halted when Ravenheart did, following the older tom's every move, soaking up every bit of information he could gain through his mentor's body language. He stood at attention and opened his mouth to scent the air. The vole's smell reached his senses too.

The ShadowClan apprentice nodded at the instructions, crouched, and stalked toward the vole. Hunting just so happened to be his area of expertise, but Crowpaw worried his nerves would get the best of him. His tail-tip flicked back and forth.

The vole stood atop a tree root, munching on a seed. Crowpaw froze, focused on its mouth-watering scent and sharp eating noises.

He pounced.

Crowpaw slammed a little white paw on top of the vole's tail, entirely missing the rest of its body. He scrambled after it, each stomp of his paw missing the mark more than the last. "Shit," he muttered.

Crowpaw's tail drooped as he returned to his mentor, refusing to speak. He couldn't bear to look at Ravenheart.

Crowpaw responded with another dip of his head. He wouldn't fail this time. His Clanmates needed that food, and he needed to assure his mentor that remedial lessons were unnecessary. His battle skills were poor for a ShadowClan cat, so Crowpaw shifted his focus on hunting, hoping that putting all of his effort into it would yield results that proved his worth to the Clan.

The young tomcat's mouth peeled open, welcoming every scent the forest offered.

Frog. Crowpaw's head snapped toward the right and he followed the scent. He took occasional breaks to check on the finer details: The status of the wind and whether his paw was about to snap a twig.

Finally, the frog came into view. The tuxedo apprentice fell lower into his crouch. He checked his paw placement, wriggled his hindquarters, and leaped.

He landed on the frog. He nipped its neck, joy bouncing through him, and approached his mentor. Crowpaw forced himself to contain his excitement out of fear that such a display could imply that similar catches were difficult for him. Warriors didn't get pumped up about catching frogs.

Crowpaw placed the frog in front of Ravenheart, silently thanking StarClan for its life, and said, "Done."

A brief purr emerged in Crowpaw's throat, soaking up his mentor's prey. It felt nice to be acknowledged again. Crowpaw dug a hole for his frog, working fast so he could get to the next catch as soon as possible. When he finished burying the frog, he stuck a stick upright in the mound of dirt so he'd know exactly where to dig later.

Crowpaw watched Ravenheart hunt, restlessness making his skin itchy. He couldn't stand sitting around when he had prey to hunt and a mentor to impress. For the first time in moons, he felt motivated to work, and he couldn't let that slip away. Hurry up, he thought, staring at Ravenheart. He'd just caught the frog, what more could he learn from the same technique? The only reason he'd missed the vole was from poor judgment of the distance he needed to leap, and that happened to everyone from time to time.

The older tom leaped on the mouse and snapped its neck. Finally, Crowpaw thought, his lip curled the slightest bit. He fixed his expression to be more neutral while Ravenheart buried the mouse.

As he followed Ravenheart without a word, his paws still itched. Moving wasn't enough. He needed to hunt.

A familiar silhouette caught Crowpaw's gaze: Atop a low-hanging branch stood a plump bird, clearly unaware of the cats' presence. Crowpaw dropped into a crouch and calculated his next move carefully. The bird cawed, but it didn't move. Crowpaw shook his haunches, then leaped.

Wind pressed his fur against his skin. His claws sank deep into the bird's belly. It screeched and pushed its wings out, but Crowpaw held on. He landed on his hind paws and wrestled with the large bird. It nipped one of his paws before he could sink his teeth into its neck. It fell limp in his paws.

Pain throbbed in the young tom's paw. He dropped the massive catch and fell to his paws, wincing as his sore paw struck the ground. He lifted it and gave it a few licks, to no avail. Crowpaw placed his paw back on the ground and struggled to keep his expression neutral, trying desperately to mask the pain so he could keep hunting.

Crowpaw looked at his mentor and said, "This should feed two or three apprentices."

Disappointment flashed in Crowpaw's eyes, but he fought it from covering the rest of his face. He nodded in response to his mentor and picked up the bird, its feathers tickling his nose. He halted to sneeze a few times, dropping the bird several times.

Every step burned. Crowpaw lifted his right paw and continued the trek behind Ravenheart, trotting to keep up.

When they were nearly back to camp, Crowpaw set his catch down and meowed to catch his mentor's attention. He sat down and said, "D-do you think my paw is going to get better? What if it gets infected and I die or something? Do I have to rest until it heals, or can I keep training with it like this?" He lifted his paw, hoping his mentor would give it a look. A chunk of skin had been torn away, leaving behind a small pool of blood that settled and stuck there, the process of healing already begun.