The Hunting Games }{ -tag: Yellow/Harewhisker

[spike]

Leaf-fall. While most cats dreaded this time of year for the sense that it would lead to leaf-bare, a particular she-cat found that she adored it for the way the fields glowed in the mid-afternoon autumn sun. As she trotted gracefully through the fields, she smiled, feeling all too happy when a small wind graced her pelt. She sighed and slowed to a halt, head tilted back to catch the breeze across her face. Bluefang could sense today would be a good day. Still, it was a tad boring. Half of her wished she had an apprentice to keep her busy or that hunting would turn around to be a bit more fruitful. It wasn’t as if prey was scarce this time of year. But some hunts you win, some hunts you don’t.

Not that she was wishing for a badger or a loner to stumble around and cause trouble. The gray she-cat huffed and sat down, glancing up at the half lit sky. ‘I wonder if anybody is around,’ she mused. There would be no harm in looking for another warrior to travel along with, right? Besides, maybe it would motivate her a little more if there was a little competition. This would not have been so hard if Brownfur was still around. Wincing at his memory, Bluefang mentally wiped him away and stood back up to walk on. She would catch a scent soon, and maybe have her fun as she wished. Thankfully, she didn’t have to go very far before a familiar scent tumbled across her senses. A familiar scent, a tom. Harewhisker! That would be excellent fun.

Smirking to herself, Bluefang shifted into a trot, hurrying to catch the scent before he went away. She could catch him, maybe, and begin a nice competition. That sounded marvelous. When the scent became stronger, Bluefang ducked down and crept ahead through the grass, narrowing her pale eyes ahead where she knew Harewhisker would be. Good thing both were sent to get some hunting done. She would have missed picking on a fellow warrior like him. ‘Watch out, Harewhisker,’ she mentally purred, not noticing the shift in the wind.

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

The wind that blew past his pelt was cold and unpleasant. It caused his ears to plaster themselves to the back of his head in their attempt to stay warm and ruffled the fur along his thin sides, causing the tom to shiver. He squinted his eyes against the sting of the breeze, settling on sight while the wind momentarily disrupted the accuracy of his sense of smell. It was leaf-fall, and a particularly chilly day in leaf-fall at that. Harewhisker braced his paws against the ground and froze, staying completely still until the breeze died down and he could assess the scents around him once more. For a tom reaching senior warrior age, the skills needed for hunting in the chilling weather of the moorland should have been mastered long ago, and for him, indeed they had. Many moons of being one of the most talented hunters in WindClan had helped him hone his skills, and he now easily recalled the best way to angle his scent glands against the breeze, and how to remain low to the ground so as to not alert any other creatures, predator or prey. The cat took immense pride in the sense of smell he had been born with and would be sorely disappointed in himself if he returned to camp today yielding no fresh-kill.

Harewhisker tilted his head slightly when the familiar scent of rabbit drifted past him. Finally, he had picked up on the trail again. Prey was already starting to thin out and become noticeably more scarce than it was during greenleaf. Soon it would be even more difficult to come across, and that was when the survival skills of the quickest Clan in the forest would really be put to the test. But for now, it wasn't so bad, and Harewhisker was grateful for it. He took up the hunt again, walking slowly and carefully, aware that at any moment, prey might appear and require him to chase as quickly as possible on short notice. Thankfully, the tom was also confident in his reflexes, so he was at a sort of ease while he stalked through the tall grass, still keeping alert all the while.

Another shift in the wind, though, brought with it a curious scent. The tom's ears instantly perked up, listening for any signs of the creature that the scent belonged to, because the scent itself had been more than familiar. His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the surroundings, and when they couldn't spot the patches of fur that should have been standing out to him, he growled stubbornly. It was just like her to be able to hide all but her scent from him, he remarked inwardly, twitching the tip of his tail in mild irritation. Wherever she was, though, he knew he would be able to find her. All he had to do was follow that scent. Harewhisker scented the air again, turned his head a bit more in the direction it was coming from, and called out. "Trying to hide from me, eh, Bluefang?" He still couldn't see her, mouse dung, so he simply went on, "I would pay closer attention to the wind next time, if I were you."

[spike]

The she-cat scowled suddenly when she realized the wind had changed in his favor and not her own. Mouse dung, to be spotted by scent by the best hunter in the Clan. Oh well, this old boy would still not know what hit him. Bluefang carefully slipped onward, dragging her scent all along where she went, hoping to circle him and make sure her scent did not get caught from one sure direction. She would not lose this battle to Harewhisker. She could see him through the grass, even if he could not spot her as well. His masculine build was well lit in this afternoon lighting. She could see his long legs, perfect for a good dash, a race! Perhaps she could entice him into losing a race with her. The gray she-cat stopped, finding herself in front of the other warrior and looking at his eyes. He was searching for her. He would find her soon.

Perhaps soon enough.

Bluefang lowered herself to the ground, circling once more but closing in closer and closer to Harewhisker. A low purr rolled from her, perhaps loud enough to be heard. She didn’t know though. Even if he heard her, she knew she could get him first. It just meant a little bit of patience, a little bit of a waiting game. Then she stiffened, hearing his voice. There was no more waiting apparently if he was willing to talk about it. “Not hiding, just waiting to strike!” she called. Then in a sudden leap, the blue female lunged from the grasses and was over Harewhisker, managing to land spot on the space in front of him, turning suddenly to meet him face to face, nearly a whisker’s length being all that came between them. “Got bored, thought I’d hunt you down,”

[/color] she murmured quietly, enough for him to hear.

She smirked and batted his nose with a paw playfully, but still with a little more of a power behind it than was truly just nice. “Race you to the gorge, Harewhisker! Loser gets to clean the nests in the warriors’ den!”[/color] Her tail lashed, proudly puffing up in front of him proudly. “I’ll put a piece of prey on it you won’t be half way to the gorge by the time I’m walking back from it! Let’s go, right now!”[/color] She would not take no for an answer, that was clear. Her narrowed, pale green eyes showed how determined she was to get a little more excitement in this day. And poor Harewhisker would be the victim of her necessity.[/blockquote]

[☆ Y e l l o w ☆]

It was silent. Harewhisker's tail twitched again, irritation causing him to narrow his eyes and do a quick spin, scanning the area around him once more in determination to spot the telltale pelt of Bluefang. He still couldn't see her, wherever she was, and the fact that he somehow couldn't pinpoint her location caused him to snort in annoyance. Another breeze rushed past him, carrying Bluefang's sent away from him for several seconds. The distraction nearly broke his concentration, and when the air was still again, Harewhisker found that now the scent was entirely surrounding him. Almost as if she had circled around to tease him. That was the final straw, the tabby decided, he wouldn't let this she-cat humiliate him any more. He was Harewhisker, one of WindClan's most valuable warriors and most loyal to Ravenstar himself! No immature she-cat would make a fool of him today.

"Bluefang, come out of your mousebrained hiding spot or-"

Harewhisker wasn't able to finish his threat. In a flash the she-cat had leaped out from the grass, seemingly out of nowhere, and landed squarely in front of him. The tom crouched down and flattened himself against the ground, ears flattened and hissing in surprise before he realized that it was only the she-cat that he had just been searching for. Then he straightened himself up, giving his fur a good shake, and regained his composure. "Don't scare me like that! Honestly, Bluefang, it's about time you grew out of your kit phase." He fixed her with a disapproving look as he turned to face her again, his face a whisker length from hers, his amber eyes narrowed against her own.

Harewhisker drew back and snorted, reaching up to rub a paw over his nose as his gaze sharpened to a glare. "Absolutely not. I won't waste my time on ridiculous kit-games like that. I was busy hunting, in case you overlooked it. The Clan needs food. So will you let me concentrate or not?" He lifted his head upwards and turned away from her, about to walk in the other direction and far away from the troublesome she-cat. Let her act like a kit on her own or with other cats who were just as carefree as her. He didn't need to get involved in anything of the sort.