Post by Flameheart on Sept 5, 2015 23:12:30 GMT -5
whoever's idea it was to put the long-haired tabby in the heart of shadowclan, must've had a sick sense of humour. it didn't seem to matter what he did, his pelt was always a mess. he'd spent hours trying to clean it, smooth it, make it shimmer when he walked, but nothing worked. it had been something that bothered him since he was a new warrior, some forty moons ago, and it still bothered him to this very day. it didn't help of course - and he would never admit to it- that it almost seemed as if her went to the frog swamp on purpose, knowing well enough that he would come out of it looking like some sort of swamp monster.
it wasn't that flameheart was vain, he knew he wasn't a particularly good looking cat to begin with, and at fifty-two moons, he had accepted that he would probably never bare kits of his own. the fact of the matter was that he was lazy when it came to cleaning his pelt. he knew when he was fighting a losing battle, and this was one of them. not to mention after a good thorough cleaning that he wound up coughing up hairballs for the next week. that, wasn't high on his to do list. there was nothing worse than tracking prey through the marsh and having to stop and dislodge the ball of fur from your throat. it wasn't very attractive either.
no, flameheart wasn't the cleanest cat in the clan, and he knew that better than anyone. if he stuck to the drier trails that weaved their way through the territory, he might have an easier time. but flameheart never took the easy root. a major character flaw. but he just called it being dedicated. (stubborn was the word other cats used). even now, as his right forepaw sunk to almost his shoulder in an unusually cushy part of the swamp, he wasn't about to turn around and go hunt somewhere else. he had a hankering for a salamder - one of the big ones with a lot of fat just waiting to be sliced open. his mouth watered just thinking about his meal.
bracing his weight onto his three legs that still remained on solid ground, he let out a grunt and shuddered as the slimy mud licked its way through his pelt to his skin. his leg broke the surface of the mud with a slurp, and flameheart shook off the grossed out feeling. now wasn't the time to worry about how he felt. he needed to make his catch, and then bring at least one other piece of prey back for the rest of the clan. it would look pretty bad if the deputy came back with nothing but a salamander for himself. releasing a sigh, he grimaced as the mud cooled in the breeze and then calmed himself for the hunt.
letting his jaws part ever so slightly, he tasted the air and was overwhelmed by the smell of frog. I hate frogs. he thought bitterly, before trying again. this time he caught the whiff of lizard, and salamander. it was definitely a process however, locating them. hunting mammals was far easier in his opinion, the warm of their blood making them easier to scent out and to locate. but he knew that he could do it. lowering his large body down to just a hairs length above the ground, he listened, his tail flicking out behind him slowly.----------tags: @open