Two Rs and Pelt

[Silver]

(Title makes no sense to anyone else. YAY!)

Rainpelt padded softly past the Old Tree, the sand crunching underfoot. The snow that had fallen a while ago had mostly melted, leaving dirty slush piles. Frost still decorated any vegetation, and the ground was cold and hard. When she sighed, she could see her breath swirl and dance in front of her. The honey she-cat paused, straining her ears for the sound of prey. This is how she liked it; silent, and alone. Rainpelt lifted her head to the sky, trying to catch a faint scent on the wind. The familiar scent of the moorland filled her sense, along with... another cat. Rainpelt looked around for her Clan-mate, mildly irritated that her solo hunting patrol was being interrupted. Just can't have time to yourself around here anymore... she thought. Spotting no one in the immediate vicinity, Rainpelt hoped they would have enough sense to leave her to her prey before approaching her, as they were sure to do. Rainpelt angled her ears again, this time catching the faint scrabble of a tasty morsel. Dropping into an excellent stalker's crouch, Rainpelt soundlessly glided across the ground to her prize- a small mouse, looking for food among the tall grass surrounding the roots of the Old Tree.

[FireFlyDragon]

[Rootpelt]

The warrior’s hardened paws met soggy grasses underfoot, puddles; some deep lay among where the flora reseeded to tempered soils, sooth yet frosty in the open moorland. The tom’s darkened tan coat, mild in the winter’s climate was smoothed with the melting diamonds about him. Piles of the dulling substance lay scattered over the open land, sometimes hiding deep gullies; though the substance was hard enough to withstand a warrior’s weight, at least those that ran over the moor. He had no danger of that now though, for he knew the land quite well; and where the Old Tree stood he remembered no such things needed to be looked out for.

He was silent, feathered tips searching for any lingering sounds that brought him interest. The world around him nearly followed suit, save for the weak twittering of air born fauna and those small scuttles in the wet world he was searching for. But something else lingered in his perked auds, something much larger, but merely a whiff of scent only carried his way. His form perked, WindClan scent was evident among their territory but the tanned warrior labeled this scent as fresh and paused in his hunt; whoever this cat was, she was close.

[Silver]

(You put my posts to shame D:)

Just...one...more... Rainpelt's gaze was locked on her target; her senses trained on that one little morsel of prey. Which is probably why Rootpelt startled her so when she triumphantly raised her head, mouse in jaws. Spooked, Rainpelt dropped her catch at her paws. The youthful she-cat glared at the tom haughtily. Its not his fault you weren't paying attention. You could have let an enemy warrior go by! she scolded herself, prodding her mouse in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. "Hello, Rootpelt," she mewed coolly, eyeballing her den-mate. Though she knew Rootpelt was only a few moons younger than herself- heck, they were in the nursery together for a few moons- she realized she knew very little about the sturdy tom. He, like her, preferred to keep reserve and calm.

"I don't suppose you've had any better luck hunting," she sighed, shrugging to herself. Briefly ignoring the tom, Rainpelt dug a shallow hole in the frozen earth, her claws scraping against the thin layer of ice that covered the surface. Dropping her catch into the pit, she covered it up again with a sweep of her paw. It was such a natural thing to do by now. She couldn't imagine how loners and rouges lived, eating whatever they caught without thinking of others first. She almost shuddered at the lack of code. Turning her green eyes to Rootpelt, like glowing orbs surrounded by soft white and honey fur, Rainpelt idly wondered if she was going to get a response from him. Probably not. Ah well. He can do what he likes, she thought stubbornly. She waited only a heartbeat longer before turning her attention back to hunting, glancing occasionaly at Rootpelt to see if he was joining her, or simply passing through.

[FireFlyDragon]

[Rootpelt]

It wasn’t long before a honey pelt emerged from its spot, no doubt wishing no disturbance as she slinked across the iced soils, paws noiseless as she continued forward, so intent on her prey that she noticed not the tan warrior sitting calmly not five foxtails away; unmoving as to not flush her prey into it’s familiar safety under the weeping flora. She proved victorious, and turned to the tom; seemingly startled by his presence in dropping her still warm; though thinly fleshed creature. Winter so far had been mild, but the little resistance that Rootpelt’s ivories felt when delivering a life draining nip always reminded him that it was taking its toll.

Upon finding of her voice she meowed a greeting, one which he replied with a nod; stiffly returning to place four paws on the frosty ground, a layer of the trickling gems dismantled by his previous warmth. Coating his haunches with the darkening liquid. At her question he merely flicked an ear, watching as she began the procedure of relaying the prey for a later date. “Regrettably no.” the small warrior finished in her preparations, and in a single sweep of her paw returned the uprooted soil, crisp and chunky from the relentless frost over her previous catch. It was then she settled her orbs upon Rootpelt, as if waiting for him to say something.

The tom cocked his head at this, wondering if she wanted him to say something, though they both kept quiet as the land twined their lack of words almost unknowingly. It wasn’t a moment longer that she kept her gaze trained on him, though as she turned away her orbs gave flickers back to his still form; her other senses seemingly intent on her hunting attempts. “Do you wish to hunt together?” He finally asked, really not sure at what she was waiting for, though he guessed she was wondering whether she could slip away on her own again; she seemed the type.

[Silver]

Rainpelt chuckled at Rootpelt's slight confusion. "Yes, please. Eight paws are better than four, they say. Unless you have something better to do," There was a smile in her voice as she paused, waiting for the tom. "Spicestar already sent out a hunting patrol to the Yellow Plains, so we best stay here," Rainpelt announced, mimicking Rootpelt's cocked head. She subconsciously realized that she was taken up authority over their duo, but merely flicked her ears at the thought. "And let me know immediately if you scent RiverClan or ThunderClan. Who knows what those creeps will try, after what they said at the Gathering?" Rainpelt bristled at the memory, sinking her claws into the Earth. Lets see a RiverClanner get near me! she thought, hiding a smirk. But her thoughts eventually returned to hunting, and she smiled briefly at Rootpelt. "Ready, get set, go?" she purred. Flicking her tail, the she-cat set to work, sniffing among the roots of the Old Tree. Finding nothing, she scrambled up to the lowest branch, gazing up through the twigs towards the bright sky.

(Fail post fails)