i can do anything better than you || shanny

It was no secret to the cats of WindClan that they had been blessed with a rather...prickly deputy to say the least.

And to say she was less than popular would be an understatement.

She'd heard all the gossip buzzing among the apprentices, and the rumors that circulated with the kittens' like wildfire; young ones were warned by mothers that if they were not to behave, Swiftfoot would snack on their bones for dinner, and that if their tantrums did not quieten, they'd have to face her unbridled anger. All was incredibly exaggerated, but she was often viewed with a tentative, fearful respect because of this. And who wouldn't? Swiftfoot appeared intimidating and bitter even when in a good mood, what with her constantly lashing tail and unflinching, sour scowl.

So it was that even when with her own fellow warriors was she regarded with a tentative dislike. Swiftfoot was harsh; cruel; had the temper of a grumpy badger and the looks to match too. Friendship had never been a strong point of hers, idle conversation being one of her many weaknesses, and in truth it would've been a lonely existence - at least, had it not been for her old mentor.

Now Firestorm was her one true friend, a cat she regarded with the deepest respect and care. If one were to see Swiftfoot with her old pal, they'd almost think they were looking at an entirely different cat; it was true that she felt rather free and careless around the tom, and that she'd even go as far to even gently share tongues with him, as uncharacteristic as it seemed for her. After all he was the cat whom had taught her all the details and intricacies of the clan life, and the first to see her as not one to be wary of, but a warrior brimming with potential.

So it was that, as the she-cat prowled over the flattened moors, her lean muscles rippling under a ragged pelt, she felt almost disappointed on hunting alone today. Normally she was not one for such useless feelings of loneliness, or uncertainty, but it was true that on this particular new-leaf sunhigh she had particularly desired Firestorm's company. He was one of the best hunters in the Clan, and she would be lying if she said that she didn't feel a burning rivalry towards him.

She paused, thoughts broken, as a rabbit perked, its ears swiveling in her direction. Pressing even closer to the ground, Swiftfoot sucked in a cold breath and forced even her constantly twitching tail to lay still.

The rabbit seemed unconvinced. The moors were eerily quiet, and it raised a hing leg, prepared to thump the familiar warning signal to its brethren. Swiftfoot wouldn't have that. Before it could even move she struck, her fur a flashing streak of brown as she slammed right into the prey, rolling hard over the beaten earth and feeling the slice and snags of blades of grass as it tugged at her pelt. The rabbit's squeal was suddenly cut short, as she sunk her teeth deep into its maw and relished in the fresh taste of its warm blood.

Silence once again fell over the territory.

A purr rumbled in her maw. That was a new record. She'd like to see Firestorm attempt to beat that.