* i'm not bulletproof - - -

[* foxthorn ,]

This afternoon was not a particularly nice one. The sun was barely visible through thick black clouds, and strong winds moaned and shrieked throughout the moor. It was one of summer's storms, and it certainly had the crackling humidity for one. As the first raindrops began to fall, Foxthorn, with narrowed eyes, peered through the thick heather around the camp and then let himself slink out. He had a duty that he was not going to ignore. Foxthorn really should have done his duty, which was hunting, border patrols, etc., beforehand, but he had just been unable to resist the warm watery sunlight that had filtered into the den that morning. He had sunbathed until noon. Now thick clouds covered the sky, and he had to do his work.

The large ginger and white tom supposed that he would put together a border patrol of warriors he found hunting. Though there was a storm, he had been told by the deputy that patrols mustn't stop. All of the prey must be hidden because of the rain, and so Foxthorn was out searching for warriors. His eyes narrowed as the rain became harder. Stealthily the tom moved through the rain, scarcely visible in spite of his light-colored pelt. The rain blocked out all his senses and he navigated blindly through the territory, brushing against ferns, tripping over rocks, and getting tangled in heather. It was very embarrassing, but Foxthorn tried to ignore it. It was his fault, for being lazy in the morning.

A mouse practically ran into his claws and quickly he killed it, but it was soaked. It'd be no use to bring back to camp, and he was hungry. Quickly, the large warrior ate the prey, though it was tough and stringy. He took a drink of rainwater, lifting his head up to the sky, swallowed the fresh, warm water, and continued on through the storm.

[firestep]

[atrb=table,width,500] [style=background: #D87B3C; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; height: auto; width: 500px; padding: 0px; speaking: CE0000; thinking: FFD500;] As the unusually warm rainstorm swirled around him, a large ginger tom took shelter under one of the trees that bordered the edge of WindClan territory near the farm. He'd been out hunting and checking the borders by himself when the freak leaf-fall storm blew in. It was unusually warm for an autumn rain. It's better than a cold rain, I guess, he thought with a smirk. He'd been hoping to run into one of those assassins. The young tom was itching to fight one of those crowfood-eating disgraces for cats that had killed Willowstar. The loss of their leader had shaken WindClan horribly, and with Echostar in charge, things seemed tOo different. He didn't like it. The rain pelted the moorland roughly, and it was hard to see any more than a few tail-lengths ahead. Firestep narrowed his bright yellow eyes as he spotted something moving a little in the distance. It took him a moment to recognize the cat as he came closer. Foxthorn, he recalled. Maybe the other warrior would like to scout the border with him? Or hunt? Anything? Forxthorn was known for his quiet, wise sort of nature, and though he knew the tom wouldn't make much conversation, he didn't mind. Firestep respected him greatly, and his company was better than none.The fiery ginger tom bounded from his shelter and over to the older tom. "Hello, Foxthorn, he greeted politely, dipping his head respectfully to the older warrior. "What are you doing out here in the rain? Hunting for hide-away rabbits? I've tried, there isn't much prey out here in the rain." There was a bit of teasing in his tone, but it was all in good fun. Word Count: 284 Table by: Shutter

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[* foxthorn ,]

Shivering slightly, Foxthorn tensed as he sighted an orangey shape in the distance. Definitely a cat, though he couldn't see too well in the rain. One of the assassins maybe? Foxthorn wasn't one to panic if this was the case. Instead, he crouched down, hoping the rain would cover him, and watched through narrow eyes. No, definitely not an assassin. It was a cat, but it was walking freely and loosely, as if it belonged in the territory and had its whole life. It had to be a WindClan cat. As the shape loomed closer, Foxthorn recognized one of the younger warriors. Firestep was one of the more brave ones, but Foxthorn often equated courage to foolishness. These days, cats considered it brave to leap out and attack a fox alone, but it was brave and intelligent to alert the Clan and get back-up first.

However, Firestep knew how to be respectful, he had to give him that. The ginger and white warrior nodded in approval to his companion, and looked out across the moor. Foxthorn couldn't see anything, but it was never bad to try. He opened his mouth slightly, but he could only scent wet earth and rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance. His gaze flickered to Firestep as the young warrior attempted a joke. "True," Foxthorn responded solemnly, "but the Clan must still be fed, even in a storm." Young warriors these days always thought they could slack off when it was storming. Even in bad weather, the Clan needed to eat.

[firestep]

[atrb=table,width,500] [style=background: #D87B3C; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; height: auto; width: 500px; padding: 0px; speaking: CE0000; thinking: FFD500;] Firestep's light-hearted expression faded a little at Foxthorn's solemn remark. It was true, WindClan needed to be fed, and he knew so. To him there wasn't much of a point in hunting when the prey was hiding away. There's some food in the camp to last until the storm is over, he thought. Firestep's tail twitched a little irritably, but he tried to shake off his annoyance. The older warriors were always a little too uptight, they needed to think a little logically instead of thinking only of their duties. He had to admit, though, Foxthorn was no bee-brain. "Well I guess there's no hurt in trying. If us warriors are out here looking for food, I'm sure a few rabbits and mice are too." The young warrior raised his head and parted his jaws slightly to take in the scents around him. All he scented was the rain and wet earth. He personally had never liked the smell of rain, or water. He didn't like being out in the storm, and he preferred to have dry fur, but it was a bit impossible when there wasn't much cover from the falling water on the moor. After a few moments of scenting the air, the wind shifted a little and sent him the smell of wet rabbit fur. He looked at Foxthorn and smirked before following the scent. He kept his eyes carefully peeled and he slid low to the ground in the wet grass. It was very hard to see in the heavy downpour, so he kept his ears perked and his jaws parted. WindClan cats were accustomed to using their sight in hunting. They needed to keep their eyes peeled and constantly scanning the grasses and heather of the moorland for prey. Word Count: 0000 Table by: Shutter

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[* foxthorn ,]

Young cats thought that Foxthorn didn't notice their tiny signs of annoyance. However, for a quick moment his greenish-amber eyes flicked to Firestep's tail, twitching in irritation. Foxthorn didn't mind anymore - often he got that from young warriors who thought they could do anything. No, they had to learn the real world. Some warriors thought that it was an excuse to shelter when it was raining. Foxthorn was too guilty to tell the young cat that the only reason he was out in this weather was because he hadn't done his duty in the morning, when it was sunny and bright. He held his tongue and scanned the moorland, his mouth open to let prey smells seep in.

He scented the scent of rabbit just as his companion did. Quickly, Foxthorn exchanged a glance with Firestep to tell him that he had scented it, too. Watching critically, Foxthorn saw the young warrior slide into the appropriate hunting crouch. Beside him and a little behind, Foxthorn tensed, ready to run in case the younger and less experienced warrior missed. A rabbit was always good for the Clan, and so was some teamwork. His eyes scanned the moor again, and landed on a bunch of heather. It was parted strangely; suddenly the old tom-cat froze. There was a pair of eyes peeking from the heather, staring straight at the same rabbit.. His tail touched Firestep carefully and he twitched his ear toward the heather. Fox, he mouthed, hoping Firestep would understand.

[firestep]

[atrb=table,width,500] [style=background: #D87B3C; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; height: auto; width: 500px; padding: 0px; speaking: CE0000; thinking: FFD500;] Just as Firestep spotted the rabbit, he kept still. His eyes were intent on the creature and pressed himself to the ground. The clan needed this rabbit. It was a still-fat, healthy summer rabbit, a rarity this far into leaf-fall. Someone would have a full belly today. His back legs were poised to race, but just as he was about to spring he felt a tail brush his side. He blinked in puzzlement. What did the old warrior want, was he doing something wrong? Was it really that important after his comment about how the clan needed food? Firestep turned his head and narrowed his eyes. Fox, he caught on Foxthorn's lips. The younger warrior tilted his head a little and looked back to the rabbit. It was still there, but now he spotted a fixed pair of eyes in the heather just beyond the rabbit. Why hadn't he seen it before? The fox was oblivious, the two of them pressed low enough to the ground to be hidden, and the downpour helped conceal them. Firestep crept backwards so he was right beside Foxthorn. He leaned his muzzle to the other tom's ear. "Should we chase it or leav-" his whisper was cut off by a growl over the rain and a loud yip. The young fox rocketed forward and was after the rabbit. The little creature leaped into a run and before Firestep could do anything, it ran right in between he and Foxthorn, the fox tearing through and knocking the both of them over in its pursuit for the rabbit. The fox then realized there was bigger prey to chase, and it rounded. It raced right for them. Word Count: 290 Table by: Shutter

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[* foxthorn ,]

Foxthorn didn't reply to Firestep's question. It was a stupid question anyway. Of course they would chase it. Two young warriors like themselves could surely chase down a runaway fox. The fox didn't look older than apprentice age. It was still crouching in the heather, its eyes narrowed and focused. Foxthorn crouched slowly. He didn't want to attract attention to himself, but even if he started to dance or something he probably wouldn't be noticed. The fox was already too focused on its other prey. Foxthorn would attack the fox now, but he didn't want to jump out in front of the rabbit just as the fox pounced. A fox, young or not, was not a very good thing, especially when it was on top of you.

His contemplations were cut off as he was suddenly thrown into the heather. His head hit a rock sharply. Dazed, he sat up, a little scarlet blood dripping down beside his eye. The rabbit had run off - that was plain enough to see. However, now the fox was circling around, teeth bared. It was going to attack them. Ha! It thought it could take down a couple of well-trained warriors. Foxthorn still felt a little bit bleary from his fall - had he been unconscious for a second there? However, he crouched down. His movements were slightly sleepy. However, shaking his head, blood splattering into his eyes, he maintained his usual fierce concentration and stared into the eyes of the fox.

Then he was upon it. Clinging to its shoulder, he dug his hind legs into its belly, front claws on its back, and teeth viciously trying to get a hold on the fox's face. The fox was scared now. It screamed and shook itself. Foxthorn flew a couple feet and lay on the ground, stunned.

[firestep]

[atrb=table,width,500] [style=background: #D87B3C; -moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; height: auto; width: 500px; padding: 0px; speaking: CE0000; thinking: FFD500;] In the blink of an eye Firestep tumbled into a patch of heather. He let out a surprised yowl before scrambling to his paws and shaking himself off. Damn fox, too dumb to see us standing there. I guess it was a good thing, he thought as he turned to see the fox racing towards them, an excited glint in it's eyes. The dumb dog thought it could take down two strong, well-trained warriors? Yeah right! Firestep ran to meet the fox alongside Foxthorn, but at the last moment he dodged the side and let the older warrior leap on to its shoulder. He bounded past it, raking his claws along its flank. He turned to see the fox throw the other feline from its shoulder, howling in fear. Well, now it knows we mean business, he thought with a smirk. The fox stood warily for a moment, watching Foxthorn, before it caught Firestep's gaze and was off. The other warrior was still dazed and dizzy, so he decided to do this alone. Firestep followed in hot pursuit, his large paws sinking a little in the muddy moorland. He was catching up as the fox plowed through the a cluster of heather and trees that bordered the farm. He slowed his paws to a stop once it broke through the trees. The yelping of the young fox vanished and all that was left to the ears was the pattering of the rain. It was no longer such a hard downpour and it was a bit easier to see, but Firestep still shivered a little as his fur clung to him. It took him a moment to remember Foxthorn. He was wounded back where he and the fox had left him. Firestep turned and ran back to his wounded clan mate. He came up beside him. He was laying on the ground, stunned it seemed. "I chased it out of the territory. It ran past the farm," he reported. "Are you alright?" Word Count: 0000 Table by: Shutter

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