For the young rowdy kit, the sunny day was a excellent day for roughhousing, or perhaps bullying weak kits who would, probably be stupid hunters. Hunters were weak, every Dusk Syndicate Cat knew that, even young Zyphyr knew that. Her family was a bit weak, being hunters themselves, sure, she loved them, but someone had to be the fighter, the fierce one, and respected by all Dusk Syndicate Members, and that would be for certain, Zyphyr. After spooking off a rather small, two moon old kit, gnawing their ears so they would remember her by, but a little too roughly, making their ears bleed, and they would, perhaps, have to go to some stupid healer. She snickered to herself, yelling to them, to stay out of her way, satisfaction rippling through her dirty, gruffy pelt, as the afternoon sun shone on her pelt, warming her from head to tail, perfect, she need the energy for more bullying, and roughhousing.
Bullying is satisfying, a great enjoyment for me, an excellent activity. Weak kits are very easy, one scratch, and they go running. She thought, a smirk on her face as she strutted across the clearing, claws digging into the dirt, confidence beaming through her. A perfect day for picking on weak kits, the kit thought pleasantly, stomping as she walked, in a marching fashion, a confident stride for sure, as she trotted around. A very perfect day indeed.
But, perhaps, a perfect day can be ruined. For the three moon old, that was a quite easy feat to get, and preform. As the kit thought confidently, and satisfyingly thinking about who they should they pick on next. A single bump slipped her from her thoughts, and wiped on the satisfied smirk off her face, replaced with an irritated, and furious glare. Ugh! Who bumped into me? Zyphyr thought with an annoyed growl, looking up at the cat who she bumped into, they were tall, that was certain. Optics narrowed slightly, fury building up inside of her.
"Hey! You stupid tom!"
She snapped angrily, her furious tone coming into a yell, as she dug her claws into the mud and dirt, tail lashing as she looked up at the dark gray mass. "Watch where you're going!" Zyphyr continued her rage induced explosion, before marching away from Hannibal, grumbling to herself all the way as she marched away, stomping furiously, with an irritated huff. "Stupid old tom...can't even watch where their going!" She grumbled,going toward somewhere she usually went to when in a bad mood, just a place to think, or to pick on other kits, if they were near it, and she made it certain, that they wouldn't come near anymore. She made sure every kit in the group, feared her, and respected her, just like other cats in the Dusk Syndicate. They were tiny steps to what she truly desired, and wanted. Power, full power. The tree was a bit away from the camp, but enough where she could go their without scoldings, or anything of that category.