Scimitar
Scimitar crouched low, snow-white belly scraping the wet earth. He was stalking a deer this time, and the blood in his veins sang and danced. This time he was sure he would have his catch. The deer was nibbling at a thickly leaved bush, ears flicking rapidly. Scimitar tensed, tail waving slowly like a grey snake. A few blades of grass rustled between his toes, as he leapt into a run. He had only been a few feet away from the deer, the foliage so thick it had hidden his stone hued pelt.
The deer tried to run, but Scim's strides were so long he had eaten up the short distance between them swiftly, and latched his foreclaws into int deer's hindlegs. He pulled down, his full weight dragging the hoofed mammal crashing to the ground, where it flailed until Scimitar put it out of its misery.
Scimitar raised his head, olive green eyes scanning the horizon, watching for scavengers. He had the deer's neck in his mouth, and since he was now sure he wasn't being observed, he started dragging the carcass back to the Syndicate's den site, flanks heaving from the quick yet brutal hunting session.
The drag marks from the deer's body would be trailed, Scimitar realised, so changed course dramatically. It would make the journey home longer, but would decrease the chance of anything dangerous, for instance Catergory Six, following his trail. He headed for the mountains, where he couldn't leave an obvious trail over the rocks but scents would still be distinguable. He hoped it would rain and wash any trace of him away, but the weather was a law unto itself. He trekked on, blood around the deer's wound and his maw. He'd probably have trouble unclenching his jaws and chewing for a few days, but the prey was worth it.
The tired form of Scimitar (With an extra shape- that of the deer) dragged itself into the den site, where heliterally tore his stained teeth away from the meat, and sighed deeply. He slunk to the ground, and licked his muzzle. He took ragged breaths of air, wondering why he was so tired. "I must be getting older" He mused loudly, scrambling into a sitting position near his kill.
Cruenta
The pale cougar glared into the murky swamp. She was sitting on a large root that jutted out of the marsh, and she was annoyed. Some where in the dark and the fog was the leader of the Catergory Six cougars. However, Cruenta was more interested in getting some food. She stood up, balancing delicately on the root which bounced slightly under her weight. The cream cougar picked her way over the marsh slowly, alwasy testing her next step. The marsh was dangerous, her mother was somewhere underneath it. Nature's burial She smirked, leaping over a patch of swamp to some firmer ground. She breathed in deeply, certain that she would be forced to venture out of the marsh to find food. Actually, she knew she would have to. No animal worth eating lived in the marsh.
The river lapped at the earthy bank and Cruenta's paws as the cougar slid deeper into the water. As her water reached her bellyfur Cruenta gave a sharp intake of breath at the cold temparature. She contemplated fishing, but could see that there was little to no chance of her ever catching anything in the water. She crossed the river, and headed to the valley.
At the valley, Cruenta was curled up under a bush, catching her breath after the journey. She had scented the area out. A few carnivores, she was certain there was atleast one snow leopard there. However, herbivores were frequent in this area because of the lush grass. She flicked an ear, and her head shot up. Her eyes fixed on a certain mammal, one that could feed her for a few days.
The elk was old, she could tell. It moved slowly, very slowly, and Cruenta could see it was ailing. A stech hit her nostrils, the smell of rotting flesh. The cougar was on her paws, her face entertaining a smile. It was still on her face when she launched herself foward, of a ledge, and onto the elk's back.
It put up a good fight, thrashing wildly. Cruenta jumped off the elk's back, leaving bleeding wounds from all her claws, and launched herself again at the side of its throat with her teeth and claws. It kciked her hindleg, and Cruenta broke away with a screesh of anger and pain. The battle continued, both animals wounded but the elk more seriously so. Finally it weakened. Cruenta had figured that the smell of rotting flesh had come from its hindleg, were an open wound festered. She made a mental note that a really hungry carnivore would eat anything, that that wound was probably poisoned. She ate her fill of the elk then started dragging it to a safe place to keep it. She would probably stay nearby it until she had eaten as much of it as possible, so no other hunter-scavenger got it.
