Username: Charlston
Cat Name:
Clan:
Rank:
Gender:
Age: moons
Feather:
Ambition:
wip
I Like Bees wrote:Username: I Like Bees
Cat Name: Owltalon
Clan: PetalClan
Rank: Warrior
Gender: Male
Age: 26 moons
Feather: Despite losing most of his left ear to one when he was only apprentice-aged, Owltalon admires the grace and predatory instincts of the red-tailed hawk.
Ambition: [361]
"Crouch, pounce, bite; it's easy," Owltalon quoted mockingly. "You're a cat, Owltalon; hunting is in your blood. Don't move your tail, Owltalon. Stop making noise, Owltalon." The tom gritted his teeth, slowing to a stop to compose himself. He shouldn't be worked up over Sorrelstar's latest attempt at teaching him how to hunt; she was only trying to help.
The warrior closed his eyes, memories of the other cats who had tried to help flashing before him. Featherhop, his mentor, lying about his hunting ability to protect him from the wrath of BloomClan's authority, to the point where Owltalon was named after his supposed hunting expertise. Moons of pretending to hunt, while his family and close friends worked extra hard to provide prey for him to claim to have caught.
Owltalon opened his eyes, shaking his head and returning to the present. He'd never be a hunter.
A sharp screeching noise caught Owltalon's attention, snapping him out of his dark cloud of self-disappointment. The tom looked up, spotting a red-tailed hawk soaring overhead. His eyes widened as the hawk fell into a sudden dive, plummeting towards the ground.
The hawk reached out with its talons, grabbing its prey and swiftly returning to the skies. Owltalon could faintly make out the high-pitched squeaks of terror from the bird's freshly-caught meal.
"Wow," Owltalon whispered, amazed and inspired. He found his paws moving of their own accord, taking him towards the place the hawk had caught its meal. Strangely, despite there having been no visible struggle, the bird had left behind several tail feathers. The tom stared for a moment, feeling an odd sense that the feathers were meant for him.
The tom gently tucked the feathers into his tail fur, then swished it back and forth to admire his new look. He stood up, padding in a circle and feeling significantly more confident than earlier.
It was then that Owltalon made a vow to himself. No matter how long it took, how many moons he had to dedicate to training, how many times he had to get back up and try again, he would learn to hunt, or die trying.
Preferably the former.
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