Raggedripple steadied his step when began to walk through the moorland's heart. The tom opened his mouth to taste the air, and as nothing came of it, his entire response was an impatient tail lash. He crouched and began sneaking around, and every few seconds he stopped to scent again. Soon enough the wind would change direction and he would find prey to bring back to his clanmates, perhaps a fat rabbit. Well, the wind didn't change soon enough. He was so intent on trying to grasp that damn rabbit smell, he didn't even notice the plump hare he had just scared away. It took a few seconds to Raggedripple to realise what had just happened and stood still on his ground, but he still had chances to catch that hare if he runned fast.
He sprinted, his tall legs gave him more speed. Shortly after he began racing, the tortoiseshell warrior caught a glimpse of the hare, zigzagging through the fields in fast skips. In a few heartbeats, he would already be a fox-lenght away from his prey and when Raggedripple was sure of what the hare would do next, he slowed down, crouched and pounced.
The hare was clever. When he noticed that Raggedripple would spring on him, he leaped away from the gray cat's claws and the warrior rolled down the moors. Raggedripple slowly rose to his paws and spat in the ground, his tail lashing impatiently.