eins zwei drei | open

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    tags ✦ ✧ ✦ Spider liked to keep busy. He liked the mind numbing quality of physical work and repetitive tasks. He liked being able to turnoff his brain, his thoughts and dreams and hopes and fears, and focus solely on what he was doing for the tribe.


    So although he'd already gone hunting twice today, despite the fact that it wasn't yet late afternoon, and that every muscle in his body screamed for a break, the short furred tom entered the camp looking for something to do. When he took a few stiff steps away from the entrance, his paws led him toward the prey-hunters' den, but he forced them in another direction, toward the nursery. Not yet. He wasn't ready to stop yet.


    Poking his head into the nursery, he called, "Anyone up for some target practice?" No matter which career path they were destined for, every cat would have to learn to land on or hit their target—it was a part of hunting and fighting both, and something he could easily make a game of.

    Avalanche seemed to be the first to be beckoned by the interesting call. The young girl, her paling pelt cleaned gently only moments earlier by the child's own tongue, trotted her way up to the older male, her flaming gaze curious as she stood lightly on her paws. Due to her squeaky clean, curly-tipped fur and the way she had decided to stand, Avalanche certainly didn't look that the fighter that she aspired to grow up into. Despite this, her sheer stature, that being just about the size of Spider, maybe only a few beetle-widths smaller (seven month old kittens are almost the size of full grown cats, you know!), definitely could be molded into a sturdy warrior.


    "Me, of course!" Laughed the large kid, however the laugh wasn't completely genuine. Entitlement edged her voice, most likely due to her knowledge of her mother's stature. While she didn't always appreciate her mother and her strict nature, she most definitely wasn't oblivious to the she-cat's standing in the tribe. Thus, she seemed to think herself to be just as high in the ranks as her mother. Pushing ehr way (some what forcefully) passed Spider, she proceeded to turn and face him again, her flaming visuals locked challengingly on the prey-hunter. "So are we going to learn to actually fight or are we just going to be catch some dumb lousy sticks as 'prey practice', prey-hunter?" The last word was an indirect jab at the older tom. As someone who was looking forward to becoming an apprentice for the chance of being formed into a fighting cave-guard, she really didn't like the idea of hunting and shunned the thought of even training by the prey-hunters, let alone being one.

    tags ✦ ✧ ✦ Of all the kits who could possibly have answered his call first, Avalanche wasn't the one Spider would have hoped for, but he couldn't exactly turn her away. She had responded swiftly, faint interest in her fiery gaze—or was that derision? He shifted slightly as she moved past him, half certain that she would have pressed him against the cave wall if he hadn't.


    Her sense of entitlement confused him. Her pedigree could not be denied, but it was marred: one of her mothers was the Stoneteller, but the other was of DarkClan. When he had been a kit, having an outsider in your ancestry had been considered a blemish, as he'd learned quickly, much to his parents' consternation.


    Dark ears tilted toward the kit as she spoke, and although annoyance prickled at his pelt, Spider tried to shove it down. Responding to the implied insults of a kit just showed a lack of maturity on his part, much as he might wish to knock some sense into her. Still, resisting was harder than it ought to be: by nature he wasn't one to back down from a fight, although he tried to suppress that portion of his personality. Dryly, he replied, "You can learn to fight after you learn to catch your opponent. If you can hit a moving cat, enjoy yourself somewhere else, and if you want to be sure you can hit stationary and moving targets, lose the attitude." His patience was limited; if she didn't want to learn, she ought to have the good sense to remove herself from the area, and give others the opportunity.