thick as thieves [ ame ]

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[attr="class","text"]Heavy paws thudded across soft forest floor, beating a consistent rhythm into the ground. Although the tom was technically supposed to be hunting, he, as was not entirely uncommon, had managed to find himself distracted. The weather was growing hotter and hotter by the day, the tides of the year shifting slowly but surely into green leaf. Today was certainly no exception. With Boulderheart’s thick smokey pelt, the heat felt sweltering. And hunting was hard and tiring and frankly, he wasn’t that great at it. He was sure Cinderstep or Falconclaw or even Snowfall could manage enough prey for the day. He, on the other hand, perspiring fiercely, would be lucky to bag even a single mouse. Boulder had been stalking a plump squirrel earlier, slowly and steadily like his sister had gently suggested a couple dozen times, with his rump down and head ducked. For what felt like hours the hunter had followed the prey, inching upon it till he was only a fox length away. Suddenly, the rodent’s head shot up to an upright position, eyes darting to and fro and nostrils flaring erratically, as if it had become aware of its follower. The little devil, with a choked squeak, had then darted off in a flurry of brown fluff, tiny legs desperately powering away from the predator. Boulderheart, with a cry of annoyance, lunged after his midday meal but, unfortunately, lost his chance when the squirrel flew up an oak tree. He gave a powerful leap, claws digging into the tree’s bark, but the prey’s wriggling tail was already far out of reach. Although a member of SkyClan, Boulder held a distinct dislike for climbing. Something about his monstrous frame balanced on a branch the size of his forearm felt vaguely suicidal.

Not the type to work himself into a frustration, the broad-shouldered tom simply heaved a nonchalant, care-free shrug and bounced off in the other direction. There was more to a cat than their hunting ability. At least he was fun, right? And handsome? A good time? He chuckled softly to himself, an easy-going smile lifting the corners of his lips. Yeah, he’d rather be a good time than a good hunter.

Now, to cool down.

At the sound of moving water, Boulderheart shifted directions, trotting briskly towards the border SkyClan shared with RiverClan. The river had been a site of conflict just days ago, when Pinestar had raced from camp to break up a cross-clan skirmish. So perhaps straddling the boundary so soon after was testing the limits of their shaky alliance. But he. Was. So. Hot. His long fur could even self-combust, starting a wildfire that would ravage the forest and pillage every clan’s camp. And, of course, no one wanted that.

Reaching the body of water, an oasis in a sea of radiating heat, Boulderheart dared to dip a paw in the cool liquid, raising it to his forehead to let the drips run down his face and then his chest. He lowered his maw to the surface, lapping hungrily when he realized how parched he had become. In that moment, he would have fought off a thousand RiverClan cats to take control of the precious resource. The tom carefully scanned the opposite side of the river bank, looking for any sign of hostile resistance, and then raised his nose to test for foreign scent. Finding none and with the coast seemingly clear, he splashed into the water, letting out an audible sigh of relief as his flank soaked through.

Immediately deciding that lingering was a fox brained idea, he climbed out and padded several steps away from the bank, contented with his now lowered body temperature. He shook some of the moisture from his pelt, water droplets flying off him wildly.

Much, much better.