Flytail
44 Moons
He/Him
Flytail's earlier grumpiness softened a touch as he followed Newtbelly's lead, his sharp blue eyes still scanning the ground but with a slight nod in agreement. "Alright, I'll give you that," he muttered, the words more of a begrudging acknowledgment than anything else. "Training is good, when the apprentice is worth the effort. Not everyone is cut out for it." He glanced over at Newtbelly, a flicker of something almost resembling a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Guess I’m just not as patient as you, huh? But I suppose you're right, there's something satisfying about seeing them get it right."
The air between them seemed a little less tense now. Flytail's gruff exterior had cracked just a little, his willingness to engage evident in the way he followed along, keeping an eye on the trail. "I’ve always preferred the night hunts, too. Just feels like a better challenge. But yeah... with those Owls out there, it's too risky for anyone new. You’re not the only one who worries." As they moved further down the scent trail, Flytail's voice was quieter, a touch more open. "You're good at this. Better than most." His eyes flicked toward a rustling sound just ahead—a slight shift in the brush. He froze, his tail flicking in concentration. His blue gaze narrowed as he focused on the movement, instinct kicking in. Then, there it was. The mouse.
It darted from beneath a bramble, unaware of the predators nearby. Flytail tensed, his muscles coiling like a spring. He dropped into a low crouch, moving with careful precision as he tracked the mouse’s movements. With a flash of speed, he lunged, his paws outstretched and the sharp snap of his jaws closing on the small creature. In an instant, it was over—no struggle, no wasted effort. He stood up, his eyes glinting as he held the mouse in his mouth. "Well," Flytail murmured, his voice gruff but the hint of approval clear, "that’s more like it." He placed the mouse on the ground between them, giving a short nod. "A bit more than a snack."
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