At Cherrybubble's fumble, Ashstorm cocked his head slightly, but decided not to push. It was clear that Cherrybubble and Tallmarsh were friends; Ashstorm didn't know either of them well, but they spent plenty of time chatting together in camp. He nodded at her suggestion and turned away from her, sliding deeper into the cover of the trees, trying to find something large to hunt. No opossum. With leafbare coming over the territories, he couldn't risk getting sick.
Crouching low, his ears pricked as he spotted a crow. The large bird was picking at some twoleg trash, bright, intelligent eyes scanning its surroundings. The size of the bird didn't worry Ashstorm as much as its cleverness. He kept his gaze on the bird as he started slowly maneuvering himself to a better position to pounce. When the crow lifted its head, he froze, then started again as it resumed eating. Start, stop. Start, stop. A less patient cat might have charged already, but Ashstorm didn't trust the sharp, gleaming beak of the bird.
Finally, he got near enough. He shifted his weight, bunched his muscles, and pounced. The crow screamed in fury as he landed on its back, its wings batting around his head and blurring his senses. Ashstorm was a skilled hunter, though, and he sank his fangs into its neck. It kept struggling, though it was clearly growing weaker. Taking pity on the thing, he shook his head violently, snapping its neck and killing it.
@
RedHead