Dusty slammed the seagull onto the ground, resting his teeth on the tender throat of the bird, ripping it down to the bottom of its neck. He glared it at, before scooping it up in his jaws. Dumb seagull. Could have snipped the rope right off. He thought, watching as Flak nudged the feline back onto the cliff. As he listened to Flak's command, he bounded over to where the black brute had halted and nodded at Flak's last words. He leaped down from the edge of the cliff, his paws thumping against the hot-baked sand.
Dusty had never felt a shore before--the only time he had experienced was when he and his owner stared out at the ocean. For some reason, his owner never took him to the shore.
He shuffled the sand for a moment, and his ears swiveled towards the pup's playing, and he scrambled after Gavroche, the limp seagull shifting at the breeze. He dropped the kill beside the pup and gave a friendly nudge, before kicking some sand at the pup for the fun of it.
"C'mon." He urged. "Don't forget I promised you I'd take you hunting today." Dusty reminded him, flicking his tail as he headed towards the shallows.
Risto stared in dismay at the shore, feeling no excitement blast through him. Didn't he always want to go to the shore? He remembered sitting on the ledge of the window and studying the waves along with the sand. His heart had always longed to feel the warm touch of the sand, but nothing tingled inside of him. Dully, he gripped the herbs even tighter as he pushed himself off the ledge, rolling into the sand. Coughing, he shook out his pelt and began to nose around, tucking the herbs under his chin. He couldn't smell right with the herbs clogging up his nostrils, so he padded over to a strange-looking rock and sniffed it, before scooping out a shallow hole.
Tucking the herbs into the hole, he patted the lumpy sand around it before hobbling over to the shore. His paws stung as the water lapped around them, the salt seeping through his cuts.
Backing away, he glanced around, wondering what type of prey lived here. One thing was birds, of course, but he wasn't sure if the daily type of prey he ate was around here. As he studied the scene, he noticed a crow tapping at the sand where his herbs were hidden.
"Hey! Back off!" Risto hissed at it, darting over to the rock. His paws trapped the young bird, and he twisted its neck, snapping it. The head of the bird hung limp in an awkward angle as Risto kicked it away, bending down to examine his herbs. He let out a sigh of relief as the herbs he had gathered were not harmed by the featherbrained bird.
Burying the crow in a different hole beside the herbs, he padded off, deciding to hunt for herbs instead. There was bound to be cuts and scraps on his companions from the sharp rocks and all. He bounded off by himself, disappearing into the shadowy, thin line of trees and bushes.