SPRING HUNTING (skyy)

    Midnightfang had been rather consumed with sunning himself. While nothing like the pleasure of Sunningrocks, the leaves shift and sunlight trickles over him in interesting patterns, leaving some parts of him warmer than others. There is something about being out in the forest that gives the seasoned warrior a true sense of belonging. He likes being at camp amongst his fellow ThunderClanners, sure, but bounding free within the boundaries of their borders offers so much more for him.

    He is letting out a relaxed deep breath when he hears approaching pawsteps, though they had been quiet, he could also detect Plumpaw’s growing scent approaching. He is about to open his mouth to praise him on his careful approach, but after his greeting, “I apologise in advance. My hunting skills are still… very much in development.” Midnightfang blinks curiously at the words, had he not been training for a few moons now under Hazelclaw? Then, he doesn’t know how much time the deputy can devote amidst the duties she has to her Clan, which would presumably be her immediate concern.

    "Doesn't bother me." The black cat mews, waving his tail to dismiss the comment. He smiles, with his maw and golden eyes. "There will always be room to grow anyway; no one's perfected the art of the hunt just yet. At least, no cat I know." Midnightfang chuckles.

    He sure does not want to make the wrong impression on young Plumpaw as from the way he seems to carry himself, he appears to be a thoughtful sort. Would good does it do for an apprentice to be burdened with ceaseless thought? While training and knowledge is important, Midnightfang believes a cat's youth should involve a bit of careless fun, too. StarClan forgive him, even as an aging warrior he still gets off on his own amusements now and again (more often than not).

"Let's see what we can track then, huh?" Midnightfang meows, flicking his ears to the side as he goes to stand.

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    He watches carefully as the oppositely-hued apprentice goes to take in the surroundings scents, a small part of him instinctively doing so in the way he would had this been his apprentice and he, his mentor. While Plumpaw remains the deputy’s to train, he sees no harm in helping him out and giving him pointers as well as having a spot of fun. He hopes that, if word gets back about their outing, Hazelclaw will not take offense to the learning opportunity. Some warriors took it harshly to others taking on their apprentices' education, but Midnightfang means no harm at all by it; he thinks that Hazelclaw is fine warrior and mentor. The greatest part about a Clan, he thinks, is the fact that every cat took a paw in every endeavor, including raising the young. After all, having been brought into ThunderClan with no family to speak of, many paws had gone into supporting and helping him grow.

    Coming back to the present, Midnightfang looks away from the slighter form beside him. His maw parts and mimics the other as he drinks in the smells around them, ears swiveling to catch any hint of prey nearby. Golden optics close.

    The strongest, most easily identifiable scent that reaches the roof of his mouth is that of a mouse. It’s not too far off either, but they would need to go towards it to determine if it is moving closer to or away from them. The semi-distant chatter of a squirrel makes his ear snap backward, immediately followed by the melodic chirping of songbird. The latter two, he could not smell, however, not like the mouse which they could definitely track with ease.

    He opens his eyes at the sound of Plumpaw’s small voice, turning his attention back to the apprentice. Pleased that they had come to the same conclusion, Midnightfang brushes a jet black tail over muted orange in praise. "My thoughts exactly!" He purrs cheerfully. "Now..." He trails off, moving his head as he tries to pinpoint the direction of the mouse's trail. It seems to be just diagonal to their position, the ebony warrior gesturing forward with his nose brightly. "Care to lead the way, Plumpaw?"

skyy and her socks

    Midnightfang is not a small cat though he could not be considered a giant by any means either; he sits at an above average sort of stock. His legs are not too long but sturdy, head placed about a whisker-length or so above most others. Beneath his shiny, raven-hued pelt are toned muscles from moons of hunt and battle. So, it is through practiced ease that the solid-weighted warrior shadows the apprentice with all but silent pawsteps.

    Eyes like the butt of a firebug watch ahead carefully, the mentor side of him analyzing the way Plumpaw carries himself. He is young and has not grown too much, so one would have to be quite lumbering to shodden that natural, light-weighted advantage. He is true to this, his stride akin to an airy, soft bounce more than anything. Midnightfang notes that he is a bit twitchy, ears swiveling wildly, perking his head from side to side, likely to exhaust his neck with such movements. Should trust his ears more. He thinks but does not meow, unwilling to bring himself to break the smaller cat’s concentration.

    The scent of mouse is fresh and strong as they pick their way across the forest floor, skirting undergrowth as they follow a slightly worn path. However, at the approach of a bushel of ferns, Plumpaw before him halts and shoots an amber-eyed glance back at him. Though the black tom meets him brightly, with prey so close, he could not imagine himself taking his attention from it, be another cat with him or no. Warriors could signal with their ears and tail, but he would remind the other gently after they take care of the rodent ahead.

    Midnightfang had seen the slight movement too, a shiver of mulching leaves on the ground. Sinewy, night-dipped whiskers flicker in anticipation, but he briefly views Plumpaw who has moved to the side and gestures for the elder of the two to go for it. He almost cocks his head questioningly, prepared for a wordless debate. However, if they wait too long, the mouse will catch their combined scents and panic, likely leaving them without even the creature’s tail as souvenir. Instead, he takes the hint.

    Muscle tone ripples beneath glossy black as the warrior effortlessly dips into a crouch. He is so low that his belly fur nearly touches the ground but not so, Midnightfang’s body just a hair’s breath from the light grass cover underpaw. His auds perk and angle forward, and he can hear the shuffle of not one but two mice. He thought as much with how strong the prey scent had been. A flashing movement of dusty brown fur catches his golden eyes briefly, watching as the two rodents likely forged just in front of them. An idea strikes him. His haunches ready his launch in a coiling motion beneath his pelt and then send him forward, unsheathed claws catching soft ground upon take off.

    A heavy paw blow stuns the first mouse long enough for a second to send the mouse’s companion flying through the air towards Plumpaw, Midnightfang’s body twisting rather comically to assure the move’s success. “Quickly, Plumpaw!” He calls, voice exhibiting a coercion of excitement and encouragement.

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    Midnightfang watches with a glittering fascination in his golden eyes as the apprentice reacts to the command as if he had been a coiled snake ready to strike. His movements are fast, impressively so for one his age. He views Plumpaw in a warm, growing pride in his chest as, in a flash of white, he dispatches his own kill in a matter of heartbeats. The mouse that had been previously flying helplessly through the air is now snugly trapped between white jowls.

    He cannot help himself; he begins to release a hardy laugh. It starts in the furthest reaches of his belly and grows until it tumbles from between pearly fangs in such a gander it could have probably have been interpreted as mockery. However, the outburst comes from a mixture of admiration and mirth. Once he finds it in himself to open his eyes, that had closed due to his epic bout of laughter, the tom clears his throat loudly.

    “Forgive me, Plumpaw.” He mews, whiskers still trembling from amusement. “That was simply incredible!”

    He dips his head in a deep, considering nod. “Kill accounted for, yes.”

    Sunshine eyes glance downward as Midnightfang moves to shovel the top soil aside and push his own catch into the small dip he makes in the earth. Once the dusty brown rodent is covered in a thin veneer of dirt, he trots over to the smaller tom brightly. He brushes Plumpaw’s flank with his tail in congratulations, glad to see even the faintest flicker of a genuine smile on the other’s maw.

    “Maybe risky, but that’s a little fun in itself, huh?” The warrior purrs.

skyy and her socks