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Whiteclaw (7 days before)

Seven Days Before....

Having the advantage of the flatlands after clearing the forest is the greatest feeling of being a carnivore. It makes things easier to hunt. 

Scent, Track, Hunt, Kill. 

My four rules to being me. And it's fairly simple. 

I sniffed a nearby heap of dung, which was awfully smelly to me, but nonetheless, sunk in the deep dark chemical stench of a fleshy herbivore to the back of my mind, fresh in its tracks, and not far from the position I was standing in. I closed my eyes, then sniffed the air with the same feeling locked in, tracking it down without the use of feet. And with a satisfied smile upon my findings, I exhale.

"There," I pointed with my tail to the north of us, where in the distance, a group of large herbivores grazed in the tall lush grasses of the plains, "it's a small family. Two adults, but no young ones to catch." Behind me, I could hear Blackclaw grumble. Hunting a grown creature is tougher, and requires more speed and strength, which we all lack above all. He stood up, using his tail as a balance to stare over the tall grass. Blackclaw was the sight of the pack or the leader in some cases, but he kept us together, situated, focused. A strategy was the key to the game for feline and mouse.

"It's not a far walk, but it's also a dangerous one," He stated as he lowered back down, "There's not a lot of camouflage to blend in," then he turned to me and clicked, "especially for you."

"Guess it's the old-fashioned way then," Sky remarked with sarcastic joys. I tested the wind for a second while the group chatted, making sure that we were in a good area to strike. The airbrushed against me, flowing backward among the plentiful leaves as it hurtled towards a cliffside beach a few miles away from where we lived.

"Wind's blowing east, so it won't be able to smell us."

"Good," Blackclaw dipped his head, flexing his toe-claws excitingly, "Let's go." 

His black body vanished into the tall grass in mere seconds. I tended to follow behind curiously, watching his every slick move as he waved like the grass that flowed from above to blend in as best as possible. I tasted the air again with an expansion of my nostrils as we moved through the flatlands, and another strong aroma of a herbivore cleared up my mind and opened up a picture as to what it was. Possibly yellow? Tall? And somewhat weak in fighting. 

The perfect prey to kill. 

Then Blackclaw froze. I turned around, noticing that our other pack members vanished to the right and left of us. It was one of our plans at play; circling.

Perhaps the easiest plan out of our others. To tell you the truth, jumping from a tree limb or chasing prey through a thick forest is like the definition of killing yourself.

"You guys ready?" Blackclaw hissed in the brustiles of the wheat-scented area. Before us was a huge yellow Tenontosaurus, just as I had pictured, its large beak munching down upon some strange colorful plants that I couldn't recognize. I wasn't a plant-eater, so it didn't matter what he ate. It's what we were about to eat. Amberclaw stood next to my position with Brownclaw, Blackclaw in front of me though, while in front of the huge beast on the opposing side was Razorclaw and Sky. The air felt quiet and peaceful at that moment, a strange uttering silence, the ones that make something vulnerable nervous. Only the tweets of some nearby birds and the rushing wind from the east floated melodiously through the flatlands, and through our bodies.

I grew a bit tense and twitched my claves, teeth chattered a bit and claws lushing for the spilling of crimson red.

"Stay down a bit," Brownclaw warned suddenly, "You're albino, he could see you behind here if you're too high."