[Mica]

Hawkfur

WindClan
he/him| 49 moons
[Russet tabby with white tuxedo markings and sky blue eyes]
Purrks: Flock Together T3
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[Silverrose - @Estelle ]

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Things had been complicated for Hawkfur recently. His leg had healed well, and while it still ached whenever it rained, he could run and jump on it with little problem. As long as he didn't strain himself, that is. The throes of anxiety and depression that had wrapped him after the mink patrol had lessened somewhat, and perhaps it was realization that Bravebird was still willing to interact with him that did it. Perhaps it was the warming weather. Things were still a little rough--nightmares had still plagued him every night since, and once or twice the warrior had found himself padding through pitch-black forests that reeked of rot and still water, a familiar cat's scent wreathing him like thorny vines. He knew the nightmares were taunts. Threats. But he had gotten good at ignoring his father, and he would continue to do so.

 

That didn't mean that Hawkfur wasn't feeling a little twitchy, and even with the threat of the minks on the territory, Hawkfur needed to get out of camp. Actually, maybe the threat of the minks encouraged him to get out of camp. He wanted a fight. He wanted action. Hawkfur had lived his life fearing violence and confrontation, and right now he was about fed up with his own pathetic nature. So go ahead, StarClan! Dark Forest, whoever! Send him your worst! He could take it! Even if he couldn't, then maybe it would be an excuse for him to finally leave his stupid, pathetic self behind by--

Hawkfur sucked in a breath as he snapped out of his spiraling train of thoughts, completely taken aback by how far they had gotten. He shook himself out, taking several long deep breaths. He was here to hunt, nothing more. He wanted some exercise while also being of use to the clan. The russet warrior stretched languidly, a long yawn spilling from his mouth. ... Alright, maybe he needed to nap when he got back. But he'd have to tire out his body a bit more before he could drag his mind into dreamless sleep.

Parting his jaws to scent for prey, he caught a whiff of rabbit. His mouth watered at the scent alone, and Hawkfur quickly trotted along the scent trail until it became overwhelmingly strong. He wasted no time dropping into a crouch and searching for the rabbit, coming up on it nibbling on some grass on a hillside. Making sure he was downwind, Hawkfur got as close as he could before the rabbit felt his pawsteps, and the chase was on. The warrior streaked after the grey blur, muscles and lungs burning with effort. It was amazing to run again... he had almost forgotten how much he loved it while he recovered in camp. Hawkfur let out a little yelp of joy, the cobwebs of frustration and exhaustion dissippating the longer he ran. The rabbit was no match for him, and he caught up quickly. All it took was a nip to the neck for it to die, and Hawkfur took a moment to catch his breath and inspect it. A little skinny... he imagined a lot of the prey on the moors was in rough shape due to the minks. A huff escaped him, and Hawkfur began digging a shallow hole to stow the rabbit in so he could collect it later. He made the hole just a little deeper than usual, hopefully to deter any minks from scenting it and getting further into the territory.

With that done, Hawkfur scanned the horizon, considering his options in hunting grounds. That was, until he spotted a familiar pelt.