. A PRIZE TO BE WON [tagged : cuckoofang]

"That's just great, Speckledheart, but can we get back to the patrol?" Her voice was monotone and distant and quivering with the weight of her own disinterest - but that's just what anyone would expect from the asocial feline. Emerging from behind the tortoiseshell in question, promptly dismissing the other, she progressed around the quicksand pool with a mixture of focused anxiety and measured hesitance. She had approached here only once in recent times - when she had shown her apprentice around the territory - and she wasn't looking forward to coming back here. The quicksand pool was, historically, one of the least visited places on clan territory, and it wasn't for petty reasons like getting your fur wet or being approached by a rogue - any SwampClanner was more than equipped for that. No, it was fear for one's dignity that urged most of the clan's members away from the site. Nobody wanted to be the apprentice that stumbled into the quicksand pool on a dare, or the warrior who accidentally got caught while trying to catch a mouse. It seemed like, especially in recent times, only bad reputations could be created at the Quicksand Pool. Thus, it was clearly warranted that when the prospect of hunting at the Quicksand Pool had been offered (without much room for refusal), Cuckoofang had not only been disgruntled but irate.

This was not how she wanted to spend sun-high - stuck with an older feline who would no doubt have some lovely stories about their collective childhoods (older cats seemed to reminisce an awful lot - a habit Cuckoofang had promised long ago that she would never fall into) and stories that the brown and white molly was just dying to hear. She didn't know much of the other - just a passing glance here and there and a brief period where they shared the apprentice den being the sum of their relationship - but, having been asked to patrol, she couldn't refuse. It was great how, on the day she had dismissed her apprentice, she was still unable to take a day off. That was the best part about warrior life; it was almost against the code to get a full night's rest, a full belly, and a nice day without interruption from senile warriors. And today was a prime example of that - being asked to hunt at the Quicksand Pool, of all places! And Speckledheart seemed more intent on relaying every thought that came into her tiny brain to her companion rather than hunting - a feature the younger of the pair was none too pleased about.

She glanced back towards the older, narrowing her eyes slightly as she dipped her head to the side, indicating the pool with a flick of her tail. "So," she began, the faintest hint of impatience emphasized in her bold mew, clearly missing out on the other's internal monologue, "How long are we going to be sticking around here? I'd rather we hunt somewhere sensible before too long. There isn't going to be much prey around here." And, left unsaid, a stronger question gleaming in her eyes - why did we even come here?