hey, killer (skyy)

HISTORY HAS ITS EYES [ ON YOU ]

vivid sunflower eyes peeked out of the dense brush, the only indicator that a warrior lay waiting underneath the cover of the forest. behind it, a ginger body crouched low to the ground, muscles strung taut and rippling hidden in a coat of flaming orange. twin ears stood alert, picking up any sound that might come his way. morningfrost was in his hunting mode, his element of complete and utter silence. poised perfectly, mind set on one goal - the only part missing now was a target to lock his interest upon.

except, see, nobody thought to tell him he was hiding in a cluster of ivy. morningfrost was oblivious to it. he was no medicine cat; how was he to know the difference from one plant to the other? it all looked the same to him. green, grows everywhere, and a perfect place to hide and wait for your prey to blindly stumble right into your paws. maybe he ought to have been listening to the clan healers in plant knowledge 101.

it didn't even take effect, not until the moment he caught the increasingly strong scent of squirrel blown his way by the warm wind. he saw the brown creature scurry along the fallen leaves and dirt, probably looking for nuts to gnaw on. morningfrost shifted the slightest, lowered his head. he got ready to pounce - it was right there, fat and ripe for the taking. silverantler would definitely be jealous of him if he saw the tom come in with this prize in his jaws. the thought got him giddy, and morningfrost made for the lun- “what the hell!”

he stopped his chase mid-leap as an intense, bone-chilling, mind-numbing itch crawled up his spine. He twisted around, biting aimlessly to try and get rid of it. the fleeing squirrel was the last thing on his mind as morningfrost practically dragged himself across the ground. “oh my starclan, is this death? am i dying? mousedung, this is it, this is how i'm going to die.” the itch was spreading, and morningfrost was losing his mind. what even started this? ah, he needed to get this off of him! with effort, the ginger tabby hauled himself onto twitching paws, and he stumbled about for something to rub against.

it was a miracle, that thorn bush. probably not the best thought-out miracle, but it would have to do. morningfrost threw himself headlong into the bush. he sighed in relief as the sharp thorns poked and prodded at his fur, ridding it of the itch running up and down his skin like millions of fire ants. once the annoying feeling subsided, morningfrost went to disentangle himself from the thorns.

“are you-are you kidding me?” he groaned. okay, great. problem one solved. problem two? let's just say he was still working it out. or more specifically, working himself out of the tangle of thorns and fur he caught himself in. wonderful. maybe he should have just hollered for silverantler and endured the embarrassment.