Post by . s p o r e l e t t ♪ on Oct 3, 2009 20:29:10 GMT -6
Falconeyes, staring intently at Pebblepaw as she approached the small gathering of warriors, moved back to where he had left his vole and sat down near it once more. He said nothing when the grey she-cat made her hurried response to his inquiry. He completely understood her nervousness and unease: some cats were simply not as comfortable among others. Pebblepaw was one of these, and young besides. The rangy warrior didn't hold her faults against her. Instead, he watched in neutral silence as she tiptoed to the river and began to wade in.
Small as she was, it wasn't long before the water was up to her chin, and then it was over her ears, covering her completely. What was she doing? That wasn't how he had been taught to catch fish, nor had he seen any other cat catch them that way. Was she alright? Was she drowning? As small air bubbles slowly appeared on the surface, the only thing stopping the increasingly agitated Falconeyes from diving in after the wayward apprentice was her dark, motionless form lying in wait under the water. If she had been drowning, she would have been attempting to come to the surface. Hard as it was, the long-limbed tabby knew he at least had to wait a little longer before plunging in after her and risking making a fool of himself.
After several tense (for Falconeyes, anyway) moments, Pebblepaw finally reappeared above the surface of the river, a wriggling silver fish clasped in her jaws. As the small grey apprentice emerged, soaking wet, from the river and delivered the killing blow to her prey, the lanky warrior relaxed somewhat. He turned his golden eyes on Brackenpelt at his brother's question and let a fierce grin settle on his face. "It's certainly an adventurous method of catching fish," he allowed, flicking his tail at the apprentice's sodden form, "but I prefer the traditional method. As long as the fish continue to come to me, I see no need to plunge into the river after them."
Small as she was, it wasn't long before the water was up to her chin, and then it was over her ears, covering her completely. What was she doing? That wasn't how he had been taught to catch fish, nor had he seen any other cat catch them that way. Was she alright? Was she drowning? As small air bubbles slowly appeared on the surface, the only thing stopping the increasingly agitated Falconeyes from diving in after the wayward apprentice was her dark, motionless form lying in wait under the water. If she had been drowning, she would have been attempting to come to the surface. Hard as it was, the long-limbed tabby knew he at least had to wait a little longer before plunging in after her and risking making a fool of himself.
After several tense (for Falconeyes, anyway) moments, Pebblepaw finally reappeared above the surface of the river, a wriggling silver fish clasped in her jaws. As the small grey apprentice emerged, soaking wet, from the river and delivered the killing blow to her prey, the lanky warrior relaxed somewhat. He turned his golden eyes on Brackenpelt at his brother's question and let a fierce grin settle on his face. "It's certainly an adventurous method of catching fish," he allowed, flicking his tail at the apprentice's sodden form, "but I prefer the traditional method. As long as the fish continue to come to me, I see no need to plunge into the river after them."