We'll rant and we'll r(o)ar, like true british sailors - First hunt

[number nine.]

Occasionally, it became difficult for Number Nine to remember his past. This wasn't too surprising, considering he had quite the checkered history behind him, involving several different groups, as well as good and bad decisions in equal measure. Unfortunately, this often meant that he forgot some things that he really would've liked to remember. One of those memories that he occasionally tried to desperately grasp for was what his first hunt had been like. On occasion, he was able to remember some details of it. The feeling of thick woodland and leaves beneath his paws, and the scent of fowl lingering on his tongue. However, that was usually all that he was able to recall, before giving up with a huff of frustration.

Thankfully, it didn't seem as though Drifting-Feather would have a similar problem. She had been brought out by her supportive caretaker, and was already having praise heaped atop her – there was no way she'd be able to forget this. The jaguar decided to make sure of this, getting up and abandoning the nearly finished piece of prey he had been gnawing on. Making his way over to Drifting, he reached one of his large paws up to ruffle the microraptor's feathers, a grin curled playfully along his muzzle. He chuckled before speaking, long and fluffy tail twisting and flicking behind him, "'Ey there, Drifting! Nice catch, for a little one such as yourself. Probably one of the bigger mice I've seen, actually. Are y'plannin' on chowin' down on it all on your own?" Perhaps he was exaggerating a bit about it being a bigger mouse, but he didn't see the harm in that. After all, Drifting hopefully had many a successful hunt in front of her – plenty of chances for bigger and better prey.

HELLBENT ON MAKING YOU LOVE ME TOO