Quote:
Originally Posted by Lonestar23
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Clawpaw's wishes are dashed when Raccoonpaw slinks into her area, his belly against the floor; the sharp mew doesn't catch his attention initially, something easily disregarded and ignored in his pursuit of the rodent he'd spied earlier -- a weak and mangy excuse for a creature, cuterebra squirming just below the expanse of mounding skin. Truth be, he’s hardly a decent hunter -- he instead searches purposely for ill prey to bring back to the fresh kill pile. He figures something so pathetic is still better than nothing at all, and if he’s questioned on it? He’ll blame his brother.
Naturally, the longer Clawpaw’s distress lasts, the harder it grows to ignore.
Irritated by the interruption, he forgoes completing his hunt in favor of searching for the other cat. It takes less than a few minutes to locate her, tangled up in the underbrush, thorns pressing into fine fur. Briefly, he finds himself wondering if she’s been injured -- a quick draw of the scent around the area reveals hints of copper, which he takes as a ‘perhaps’.
“You look like you could use some help,” he teases, circling the caught she-cat. “---Clawpaw, right?”