out fishing (open)

[Feverstar]

OOC: This is going to be a lot shorter than usual >.< I have no muse right now. Oh, and Feverstar isn't really sexist... He just is too lazy to hunt right now.


It was a cold leaf-bare afternoon. The sun was raised high above, but the warmth was dimmed. The air seemed bitten by the frost. The snow under paw was hard-packed and a clean white color. Great for hunting. I just hope the river isn't frozen yet, a black cat with dark ginger patches thought. Today would also be a good day for fishing, providing there was no ice covering the water, even if it was the thinnest of layers. Feverstar was not a tom for fishing, because his paws always got confused. Plus, fish were slippery with slime and water. But he'd hunt for the queens in his Clan, even though it was the job of a huntress. And it wasn't too tough of a job, even for a lazy leader like himself. Feverstar chuckled lightly, slowly moving forward with his belly skimming the snow. Soon he reached the Enborn river, a small river with shallow waters. Perfect for catching food for AshClan and just what he needed. On light paws, the black cat padded over to the water's edge, careful to keep his shadow behind him. The first thing he noticed was that the water looked freezing cold, but was not yet frozen. The fish would be a great surprise for his Clan, who he imaged all thought that fishing season was over. When he had positioned himself correctly, he waited for the silver flicker that told him that dinner was at his paws.

Suddenly, his eyes caught a gray flicker in the water, and that was when he quickly realized that there was a fish swimming with the current. Suddenly, his paw shot out from under him, scooping it up with hooked talons, and throwing it on the snow next to him. He darted at it just in time, right before it flopped into the water; the AshClan leader gave it a sharp nip, killing it. The site of fresh-kill stirred his belly with hunger, but it was probably only the sight that had made his stomach growl. Feverstar covered it in a layer of snow so that it would be harder for the predators to scent it while his head was turned away from it. Then he concentrated on the hunt once again, not taking his handsome eyes off of the lazy water. He didn't see another fish, but refused to show his disappointment and the small spark of anger. Once he thought he saw something, so he poked his paws where he thought the fish would be, but came up with just his claws out. He'd caught nothing but air and a soaking wet paw. And probably a cold. His eyes bore into the small heap that hid his fresh-kill. The hunger gnawed his belly again. The leader was so close to just eating the fish himself without taking anything back to the queens. It was his job to be lazy and just direct the Clan, after all. Make the she-cats do it. Make the she-cats do it all, like the slaves they were born to be.

[Ospreysong]

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The mottled tabby she-cat stared down at the lightly frozen water, noted the fish squirming within. She already had a couple of catches, stashed in a shallow hole covered by dirt and frost. Her tail tip flicked back and forth as she returned her slightly-differently colored eyes back to the topic at paw. Just as she was about to flash out her paw again and grab another kill quickly, a large swarm darted toward her, and she was so startled that she accidentally splashed and tossed a fish in the air only to have it plop back into the water and splash her, leaving her leaf-bare fuzzy pelt wet and chilly. With a hiss, she turned and glared toward the place from where they burst. To her surprise, she spied a cat not too far away looking grumpy and hungry and cold.

Rising to her paws, Ospreysong tilted her head and flicked a long ear. He certainly looked familiar, and it wasn’t until he looked toward something on, or in, the ground that she realized it was her leader, Feverstar. He was the jerk who gave her the name she had just for supposedly warning the Clan about a fox or something. Too bad it didn’t save Rockpaw. Still, Ospreysong was taught that grudges hurt only those who hold them, and so she decided to force herself to be a good little she-cat and do as she was told. That was all the other cats seemed to want, anyway, silent girls who did exactly as they were told, flawlessly. There was no room for mistakes for a she-cat in AshClan.

Still, the tabby would battle with approaching him. The thing was, if the huntress didn’t approach, and he saw her, then she could be in trouble for just ignoring her leader, a tom, in the middle of the territory, but if she waltzed right up to him, he could start ordering her around and being a grouch just because of how miserable he was, at least in Ospreysong’s eyes since she wouldn’t like to have failed at catching fish to end up completely soaked. At least her fur was not very wet and she had actually succeeded in catching some prey, though it did not look as if Feverstar had done well where she had. And it made sense, seeing as he was a tom and less knowledgeable than she. Well, and the other huntresses.

Ospreysong had made her decision while staring at him briefly. There were more issues with ignoring him than speaking to him, she deduced. AshClan culture was very sure of that. Assuming her perfect posture and expression, as she recalled what her Nanny and mother had taught her, she tilted her head slightly and padded toward her leader. “Hello, Feverstar,” she greeted, dipping her head deeply in a respectful bow. “It is strange for you to be out here in the cold. This is a huntress’s job, though it gives me great pleasure to see you caring so greatly for your Clan as to trek through the frozen wilderness for meager meals. The queens and elders will certainly be highly appreciative.” He probably wasn’t even hunting for the rest of the Clan. He probably just wanted to get out and was grabbing a snack, but this was how Ospreysong got what she wanted, with her sweet words. Use words, not claws, she always learned. Words, not claws. Now, though, she didn’t even know what she wanted, but she was just sort of in a slightly bitter mood this cold day, probably just because of the fact that it was cold and she had been out, serene and alone, hunting when he appeared and interrupted her job. The young huntress would almost certainly have been blamed for his mistake, too, if she had returned with less than she should have. But no matter.

After all, Ospreysong was a fine daughter in a fine family. Obviously, there was nothing that could possibly come from her mouth that could be deleterious or harmful, nothing negatively galvanizing about her.

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