First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1176910689/ Previous: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1188181549/ Next: 45% done About a year or two later... (idk) vvv Morel gently licked her wounds from today's training session. She reflected on the thought that she failed horribly, Vulture landed almost every blow and felt even more useless now that she’d decided to stay in her den the rest of the day. It was impossible for her to grasp why Vulture insisted that she was “special” and it’d just take time for her to reach her full potential. Every time she asked, he’d speak of when he first saw Morel, he could see her out on the battlefield leading the tribe to victory – she didn’t believe a word he said. The branches in the entrance of the den rustled before Morel could see Vulture’s sleek grey pelt appear in front of her. She scowled at him, “This better not be an attempt to get me back into training.” “Oh please, don’t tell me you’re enjoying it here. I can smell your impatience.” He sneered with a sly look on his face. Morel grumbled, twitching her tail, “Just let me be alone for one second.” “Fine,” Vulture nodded, “But you’re not allowed to just sit around and do nothing. Every cat already thinks you’re just an extra mouth to feed – imagine what they’d say if they saw you now.” Morel waited seconds after Vulture left, then she squeezed out of her den she’d made in a hollowed out bush and clambered down the cliffside to land promptly next to the river. The current was strong today, even though she was the farthest away from the waterfall it upturned tree roots and small rocks to be carried downstream. Luckily though, the water was shallow in this area so Morel could make it to the other side, but she didn’t feel like getting wet. Huffing, she turned around and headed away from the river, plunging into the trees. Sun fell through the branches, delicately touching the forest floor. A small trickling noise could be heard under paw, the river carried off tiny streams into the undergrowth, allowing small plants to green – and more importantly – creating the hiding spots of tiny creatures. The nourishment of the Sunning season brought out even the shyest of prey, whose scents were scattered throughout the forest, yet Morel knew she’d have to pinpoint one. She crouched down, her paws sunk slightly in the damp soil. Concentrating, Morel tuned out most smells until she could focus on one – a squirrel. Creeping forward slightly, she angled her ears towards the end of the scent trail, where she could hear tiny scratching noises. She looked up and immediately noticed a bushy tail, poking out from a thick patch of ferns, and she was within leaping distance. Mid-landing, thorns and branches whipped her face, causing her to yowl in discomfort. The squirrel obviously heard Morel because by the time she understood what was happening it disappeared. “Oops, looks like you missed. More for me though.” A tortie she-cat stood in front of Morel with the squirrel dangling from her jaws. “Say, aren’t you supposed to be training with Vulture – or has he finally realized you're not worth his time.” Morel bit back a sharp retort, “Good catch, Milkweed.” Milkweed was clearly irritated by such a dry response, but she said nothing, instead she grumbled and turned away, fur prickling. Make sure to stick around something important is happening next scene :3
