|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue May 19, 2015 11:41 am
WP08 - Rescue the Cat The air is warm, the weather mild, and the air is filled with the buzz of insects and the songs of many birds. However, one sound is, unfortunately, cutting through this otherwise pleasant day. It is the unmistakable yowling screech of an owlcat. There is a disgruntled owlcat stuck in the tree and you find yourself trying to coax it down.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 19, 2015 1:09 pm
 The screeching was infuriating.
Not only was the sound obnoxious, but it was a pure detriment to the huntress. There was no prey for miles that didn't hear that horrible yowling, undoubtedly sending most of said prey scrambling for cover, or at least away from the awful sound. It echoed in the trees that will still recovering from a harsh winter, bouncing off the fresh growth; Winter was certain she could run for half a day and still hear the pitiful wailing.
Making up her mind, she strode towards the wretched cries, the sound only making her flatten her ears and her annoyance soar. It wasn't long before she found the source: a shivering owlcat that seemed marooned in a sparse tree. The doe stared up impassively with her sunset eyes, her brows furrowing. How the MotherFather did it get up there to get stuck in the first place? Irate, she used one of her hooves to thump the tree. The reverberation caught the owlcat's attention, making it swallow its most recent cry and instead stare down at her in return.
For a moment, Winter swore she saw hope in the beast's eyes. The loud yowling was reduced to chirps, sounds akin to whimpers. Swishing her tail, she thumped the tree again. The owlcat scurried over the branch it was perched on, leaning over as though to reach her. It was impossible, of course: its fall would break its neck and everything in its body, and she couldn't reach even the lowest hanging branch. Her ears tightened against her skull. How could it be so pathetic and yet smart enough to get up there and not down? The Swamp was full of mysteries.
Winter circled the tree, looking for brush or fallen branches that would reach -- or at least, some indication to how the damn thing got up there in the first place. She was lithe and light on her hooves as any huntress should be, fancying the notion she could get up there herself if she could determine how it got there. Nothing was immediately available to her keen gaze, however, though she cobbled an idea that it had jumped from tree to tree until it could jump no more, simply not possessing the intelligence to turn back. That, or perhaps it broke the last branch and couldn't return. Either way, it was an insipid creature and she had very little pity for it. No, her motives were entirely ulterior.
There was nothing she could immediately find to get to the beast, and sensing that, the owlcat began its horrible shrieking again. Winter growled, thumping the tree again, but this time it continued, higher pitch in its wails. Shaking her head and lowering it, she trotted a short distance away and looked up at another tree. She tapped this one with her hoof - gently - and a flurry of brown darted from its boughs.
The wails stopped suddenly. There was no trailing off, no shriek of surprise, just a sudden and blessed end. Winter watched as Frostbite careened down from the sky and landed next to her, the owlcat's lifeless body dangling from the strong beak. The kill had been quick and clean; Winter accepted no less from her other half.
Satisfied, Winter tilted her head and trotted off into the blessedly silent swamp, giving Frostbite the time to consume the kill. All was fair in hunting.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
