[ti]Open[/ti]An Attacker Prowls

[ladyspectral]

The trash pile was alive with rats, scurrying about as usual. The spring always brought a boost to their numbers, more and more litters being born every week. A soft drizzle sprinkled down, and while the weather was absolutely awful it made for perfect hunting. Just enough to muffle the scents and paw steps of an approaching cat, leaving the prey unaware of the approaching danger.

The mockingbird pecked at the ground, ignoring the lethargic approach of Houndmaw. It’s head turned toward him, keeping an anxious eye on him and fluttering just a few feet away mere moments before as the cat drew close enough to pounce. Slowly, so slow that the lazy warrior didn’t realize just how far he was getting from his patrol. And keeping his attention just enough so that the flirtatious tom didn’t realize the fact he was the one being hunted. The bird glanced about frantically, searching for it's hidden companion for reassurance. He saw a tail flick, and somewhat relaxed.

Houndmaw’s blue eyes squinted as he let out a frustrated breath, the mockingbird once again fluttering a few fox lengths away. It was clear this was becoming a game of cat and mouse, and the literal cat was on the losing end. As he was about to give up on the bird, a twig snapped and the gray creature flapped up toward the mountains of two leg garbage above his head. He rose up from his crouch, pausing as he noted there wasn’t a broken twig beneath any of his four paws. The lazy warrior's heart sunk as he turned his head, gaze being met by the furious green eyes of a familiar rogue she cat. He recognized her from when she had appeared in camp with Snaketongue, very publicly rejected by Mothstar. Before he could react, the rogue pounced.

Honeyheart’s paws collided with his shoulders, tooth claw covers outstretched and raking gashes along his shoulders. Blood welled up and dripped down his leg, the tom staggering to the side with a pained cry. He rapidly retaliated with a harsh swipe to the rogue’s face, drawing blood along her nose and cheek. Honeyheart let out a yowl of rage as she rapidly regained her balance, leaping forward to slam her meager frame into Houndmaw’s side. He toppled over into the grass, soon finding the tabby and white she cat’s teeth sunk into his throat and claws digging into his shoulders to hold him motionless. The rogue began to rake her claws down his belly, again leaving deep gashes in the unpracticed tom. He still clawed furiously at her shoulders and face, soon going limp against the ground as she tore back a mouthful of fur and flesh. Alive, but rather mangled and fading from consciousness.

Honeyheart released him as the struggle drew to an end, breath ragged and sides heaving and bloody. Tufts of white and golden fur were caught between Houndmaw’s claws. The bloodied she cat turned her attention to the undergrowth as she took a step back to flee, anticipating his clan mates to quickly investigate the sounds of the fight that so abruptly ended.

SPOILER: Click to show

Note: The mockingbird comes from an old badge available on CA. It was cleared by Harry, though it's no longer purchasable for the foreseeable future as far as I'm aware.

[karambito]

Pouncefox

With the arrival of Newleaf, the days were longer and the sun was out more now. Escaping the confinement of the Mothclan camp, Pouncefox had decided to take a walk by himself, maybe do some hunting or try and catch some other cats from the other clans near the border and start something. The warriors mind was on the earlier Ivyclan border squrmish, and he felt the hairs on his neck bristle, wishing he could enter another battle like that one.

Lost in thought, Pouncefox thought the yowls and hisses that he heard were from his imagination until they louder and louder. Stopping in his tracks, the reddish brown warrior found himself before the piles of trash in Mothclan's territory and he wrinkled his nose is disgust. He hadn't realized he had walked this far. Then he heard them again. The sound of fighting.

Claws itching, Pouncefox quietly and swiftly stalked forwards, climbing onto one of the walls of the trash-place and peering down. There he spotted two cats in a battle, blood was spilled, but the smell of it and the cats was overwhelmed by the putrid smell of two-leg garbage. Watching intently, he watched the presumably female cat give the other tom a killing bite and the tom lay motionless now. He face turned to look towards him and Pouncefox instantly knew him, a fellow Mothclan warrior. A growl left his chest at this, and he leaped down from the wall, attempting to ambush Honeyheart.

Lunging on top of Honeyheart, Pouncefox yowled with anger, hissing and spitting at her as he sunk his claws into her fur. "Rat dirt!" He hissed at the female rogue, baring his teeth. "You won't get away with this," he added in to the insult, tail swishing as his green eyes glittered in the bright sun, they were filled with rage and he felt that great feeling of power surge through his muscles.

[LupTacco]

Sagespiral padded through the forest with her head held high. Finally, she had been allowed out of camp without some tone of suspicion or even another cat with her. Just her and the forest. Perhaps she'd actually get to do some hunting this time. The silver tabby had considered her options carefully, ultimately deciding that Carrion Hill would be her destination. The rubbish-riddled mound wouldn't have been most cats first choice, but that was precisely why she decided to head there; it was almost guaranteed to be undisturbed aside from perhaps a dawn patrol. Her tail waved with satisfaction at her own deduction. 

However, after several minutes of trying and only spotting one measly young rat who managed to dodge her claws, Sagespiral was left with nothing but frustration. A growl started up but it slumped into a sigh. I'll at least bring back something, she affirmed for herself, I can't just go back with empty jaws. Though it was a risky gamble at times, as long as one was careful some carrion was usually fine, if not as desirable or exciting. And yet, something pricked at her senses; there was something off about the eerie quiet that had hung over the hill since she arrived. She knew it couldn't have been her own probing, since her paws were small and light, and the silence had already been well under way. As she stood at attention, ears swiveling to catch anything off, she caught something... 

"...what was that?" she murmured to herself, eyes narrowing with suspicion. Crouching low, she stalked forward and around various piles of strange old objects and foul smelling trash. The closer she got, the more she could detect it- cat scent, but not of anyone she knew, and lacking the telltale hints of MistClan and IvyClan. A rogue? she pondered, unsheathing her claws.. Just as she rounded a corner, she spotted both a white and ginger she-cat standing over the slumped form of Houndmaw and the lithe dark ginger-ish blur that was Pouncefox as he attacked the rogue. Circling around to hopefully surprise the rogue again, Sagespiral darted up with claws raised. Hissing, she spat, "Claws out, rogue. Run and I will chase you back to twoleg place myself."

"Your ilk will get nothing from this place but scars," a growl rumbled in her throat. 

[ladyspectral]

As Honeyheart heard Pouncefox’s snarl, she twisted about in an attempt to ward him off. However he landed atop her shoulders, sending the rogue onto her side. Her paw hooked around, seeking to rake her paws along his side and underbelly. “Oh, just you watch me.” She hissed furiously, ears flat against her head as she thrashed under the dark tom. “He lives, but not for long if he stays there save him or he watches your revenge from Starclan.”

The ginger and white rogue’s efforts grew more violent as she heard a second voice, attention flicking toward Sagespiral. Great, now there were two of them. Even more to fight off, though if she could manage it... the rogue pushed upward violently, head twisting around to dig into Pouncefox’s foreleg in a desperate attempt to drag him from her back. The last thing she needed was him grabbing ahold of her scruff and rattling her about.

Meanwhile the mockingbird chirped and rustled it’s feathers in clear distress, watching it’s protector struggle to throw the clan cat. For a moment it seemed as if it might fly down to her aid, but it’s natural fear of the fighting cats held it in place.