[Casual Scribbles]

Burrpaw stopped pacing and looked up. His tail fell a bit when he realized what his mentor said. I hate frogs! he thought to himself, but said nothing to his mentor about it. "Yes Swiftfang," his normally cheerful and honey-smooth voice was a bit lower, a bit less joyful. Why did it have to be a frog? The messy-furred apprentice stalked away through the marshy territory, scenting the air evey few steps and watching the few stalks of grass for movement. Finally, he scented the frog and dropped into the best crouch he could do at that moment. Unfortunately it wasn't a correct hunting crouch and probably wouldn't put enough power into Burrpaw's pounce. His paws were stretched a bit too far ahead of him and his backside was in the air a bit. He looked more like he was stretching than attempting to catch his prey.