Post by Dragon on Feb 28, 2009 15:30:36 GMT -5
Maskfur:
He sniffed the air, trying to locate a scent. He perked his ears. He looked up in a tree, where a trush was sitting. He crept over to it, keeping hidden. He leaped up, and caught the trush just as it was flying away. He purred at his catch, and burried it for later.
He padded to the river. He sniffed.
He looked into the river, keeping his shadow away from the surface. He waited for a fish to swim by. His eye caught one coming slowly down the river. he waited for the right moment. He swiftly put his paw in the water, and caught the fish in his paw, and shoveled it onto land. He killed it, and set it by his trush.
He sniffed. Mouse. He crept to the place where the scent was strongest. The mouse was nibbling away at a seed. He crept closer, closer....he leaped onto it, and bit its neck swiftly. He burried it with the other catches. He wanted one more catch: rabbit.
He slid under a bush, hidden from the rabbit . It looked like it saw him. He didn't move. He crept closer, risking it. The rabbit started to run, he chased after it, dodging the trees and bushes. Maskfur gained speed, closing in on the rabbit. He jumped, and bit its neck, killing it. Not a big rabbit, but enough to feed a warrior. He picked up the trush, mouse, fish, and rabbit and padded to Owlstar and sat down.
comments:Very nice...but not as detailed as I would wish it. Simple and do the point. 80% though it did make a good read.
Cavepaw:
He pricked his ears and scents the are for any sign of prey.
He scents a mouse among the a heather and chrouches down and keeping his tail out straight behind him and stalked forward. He gets a tail length away, the mouse unaware of the danger and tences his muscles to spring. He crouches lower and leaps and lands on the mouse.
he pins it and turns it over swiftly and bites its throat killing it instantly He picks it up and digs a small hole and drops it in.
Comments: Poor grammar, and little detail. Did not do much of surroundings beside the heather, only 55%.
Redfoot:
He nodded his head again, and turned away from the group of cats. Being careful to not put to much weight on his injured paw, Redfoot limped across the moor, opening his muzzle to taste the air. Three different scents hit the roof of his mouth. Rabbit, mouse, and the scent of his clan mates.
He pricked his red ears, deciding to go for the rabbit.With his muzzle open, he dropped into a rabbit hunting crouch, and stalked forward unevenly because of his broken paw.He froze as the young rabbit came into his view. He crept forward a few more tail lengths but the rabbit heard him approach and started to race across the moor in fright.
Redfoot hissed and took pursuit of the rabbit as fast as he could, but he tripped on a tussock of grass. He cursed angrily under his breath and scrambled back onto his paws. The rabbit ahead of him slowed, thinking that it wasn't being chased anymore. He ran after the rabbit and when he was close enough to the unsuspecting rabbit he leaped onto his prey, and bit down on its neck, killing it swiftly. He picked up the medium sized rabbit and limped back to the other cats.
Comments: I liked this one, but it could've been more detailed such as their thoughts and such. But it was all and all a good writing piece 82%
Dyingheart:
He dropped into a hunting crouch and stalked forwards silently, taking all the pressure off his thin paws.
He opened his mouth slightly and sniffed. All the scents and tastes of the forest rushed into his mouth and nose. The white tom frowned slightly. He could smell rabbit but it seemed far away. He scented the air again and the scents of the forest flooded into his nose. Pine...Trees...Berri es...Flowers...Magpie.
His heart skipped a beat and a smug grin flickered onto his lips. The magpie was close by and it smelt old. Easy prey. He scanned the trees with his red eyes and then he saw it. The frail old magpie perched on the lowest branch. He unsheathed his curved claws and prowled towards the tree, being as quiet as he could.
The thin white tom carefully dug his claws into the tree bark and he pulled himself onto the tree trunk. He narrowed his eyes and climbed stealthily up the tree. He slowed down and hurled himself onto the first branch without making a sound. The magpie had its back to the warrior and was too busy pecking at the wood. Dyingheart growled quietly then leapt up into the air, landing expertly on the magpie's frail back.
There was a loud snap as the magpies back broke and it let out a cry of distress. Dyingheart bit down on its throat. Blood oozed into his mouth as he killed the pitiful creature. Feeling satisfied with his kill, he licked his lips and carried it out of the tree.
He dropped it beside the trees roots and dug a small hole. He lifted up the dead bird and dropped it in the fresh hole and buried it. Suddenly there was a loud russling sound. The white cat pricked his ears and listened. The noise fell silent. Dyingheart scented the air. Shrew.
Comments: 87%
Tornadowing:
The flame-colored she-cat stalked forward slowly, careful where she set her paws, for she didn't want to rustle the undergrowth too much as it didn't seem like it was the wind that was waving the dead heather and bracken stalks.
Tornadowing energentically started following the trail at a fast pace, passing over ground swiftly, her hardened but lean muscles pumping. She stole a quick glance around, the scent strong every paw-step. She skidded to a stop as the fluttering of wings startled her. The finch had been nesting is his ground nest, and it was as startled- or ever more- than she was. She leaped, thinking fast, and soared over the crisp undergrowth silently, barely causing the grasses to stir.
Her pelt rippled slightly in the faint breeze she was passing, as she landed on one of the finch's wings, it tried to flutter away, but to no avail. She held it down with a white paw, and it was dispatched in heartbeats by fangd biting its trachea. Tornadowing picked it up, still silent, and padded slowly back to the other cats, blood from the finch's neck covering her chest. She dropped the prey where everyone else's prey was.
Comments: Very well written, in some parts a bit to much, but very good, great detail. 93%
Dovewing:
The young she-cat scanned the clearing and slightly opened her jaws. She pricked her ears, alert to anything that might be around.
Suddenly, she picked up the scent of a rabbit. Then another. Smiling, she flattened herself to the brittled grass and slunk forward without a sound. She locked her eyes on the young brown rabbit, and slowly made her way toward it, making sure to stay as quiet as possible.
After moving at least ten tail-lengths in this slow procession, she hid behind a tall tussock of grass. She wasn't about to let her white pelt show her hiding place. Then, the rabbit started to hop carelessly by the very spot where she lay. Siezing the glorious oppurtunity, she sprang out and swiftly lunged for her prey's throat.
The rabbit sped off, but Dovewing was faster. She bolted after it, dodging every stone in her path, and in just a few heartbeats her fangs met the flesh of the rabbit's throat. She sank in her teeth, then shook viciously. Assured that it was dead, she trotted back to the huddle of cats and dropped it at Crystalmoon's paws.
Comments: Very interesting to read, good grammar. 85%
[glow=red,2,300]
He sniffed the air, trying to locate a scent. He perked his ears. He looked up in a tree, where a trush was sitting. He crept over to it, keeping hidden. He leaped up, and caught the trush just as it was flying away. He purred at his catch, and burried it for later.
He padded to the river. He sniffed.
He looked into the river, keeping his shadow away from the surface. He waited for a fish to swim by. His eye caught one coming slowly down the river. he waited for the right moment. He swiftly put his paw in the water, and caught the fish in his paw, and shoveled it onto land. He killed it, and set it by his trush.
He sniffed. Mouse. He crept to the place where the scent was strongest. The mouse was nibbling away at a seed. He crept closer, closer....he leaped onto it, and bit its neck swiftly. He burried it with the other catches. He wanted one more catch: rabbit.
He slid under a bush, hidden from the rabbit . It looked like it saw him. He didn't move. He crept closer, risking it. The rabbit started to run, he chased after it, dodging the trees and bushes. Maskfur gained speed, closing in on the rabbit. He jumped, and bit its neck, killing it. Not a big rabbit, but enough to feed a warrior. He picked up the trush, mouse, fish, and rabbit and padded to Owlstar and sat down.
comments:Very nice...but not as detailed as I would wish it. Simple and do the point. 80% though it did make a good read.
Cavepaw:
He pricked his ears and scents the are for any sign of prey.
He scents a mouse among the a heather and chrouches down and keeping his tail out straight behind him and stalked forward. He gets a tail length away, the mouse unaware of the danger and tences his muscles to spring. He crouches lower and leaps and lands on the mouse.
he pins it and turns it over swiftly and bites its throat killing it instantly He picks it up and digs a small hole and drops it in.
Comments: Poor grammar, and little detail. Did not do much of surroundings beside the heather, only 55%.
Redfoot:
He nodded his head again, and turned away from the group of cats. Being careful to not put to much weight on his injured paw, Redfoot limped across the moor, opening his muzzle to taste the air. Three different scents hit the roof of his mouth. Rabbit, mouse, and the scent of his clan mates.
He pricked his red ears, deciding to go for the rabbit.With his muzzle open, he dropped into a rabbit hunting crouch, and stalked forward unevenly because of his broken paw.He froze as the young rabbit came into his view. He crept forward a few more tail lengths but the rabbit heard him approach and started to race across the moor in fright.
Redfoot hissed and took pursuit of the rabbit as fast as he could, but he tripped on a tussock of grass. He cursed angrily under his breath and scrambled back onto his paws. The rabbit ahead of him slowed, thinking that it wasn't being chased anymore. He ran after the rabbit and when he was close enough to the unsuspecting rabbit he leaped onto his prey, and bit down on its neck, killing it swiftly. He picked up the medium sized rabbit and limped back to the other cats.
Comments: I liked this one, but it could've been more detailed such as their thoughts and such. But it was all and all a good writing piece 82%
Dyingheart:
He dropped into a hunting crouch and stalked forwards silently, taking all the pressure off his thin paws.
He opened his mouth slightly and sniffed. All the scents and tastes of the forest rushed into his mouth and nose. The white tom frowned slightly. He could smell rabbit but it seemed far away. He scented the air again and the scents of the forest flooded into his nose. Pine...Trees...Berri es...Flowers...Magpie.
His heart skipped a beat and a smug grin flickered onto his lips. The magpie was close by and it smelt old. Easy prey. He scanned the trees with his red eyes and then he saw it. The frail old magpie perched on the lowest branch. He unsheathed his curved claws and prowled towards the tree, being as quiet as he could.
The thin white tom carefully dug his claws into the tree bark and he pulled himself onto the tree trunk. He narrowed his eyes and climbed stealthily up the tree. He slowed down and hurled himself onto the first branch without making a sound. The magpie had its back to the warrior and was too busy pecking at the wood. Dyingheart growled quietly then leapt up into the air, landing expertly on the magpie's frail back.
There was a loud snap as the magpies back broke and it let out a cry of distress. Dyingheart bit down on its throat. Blood oozed into his mouth as he killed the pitiful creature. Feeling satisfied with his kill, he licked his lips and carried it out of the tree.
He dropped it beside the trees roots and dug a small hole. He lifted up the dead bird and dropped it in the fresh hole and buried it. Suddenly there was a loud russling sound. The white cat pricked his ears and listened. The noise fell silent. Dyingheart scented the air. Shrew.
Comments: 87%
Tornadowing:
The flame-colored she-cat stalked forward slowly, careful where she set her paws, for she didn't want to rustle the undergrowth too much as it didn't seem like it was the wind that was waving the dead heather and bracken stalks.
Tornadowing energentically started following the trail at a fast pace, passing over ground swiftly, her hardened but lean muscles pumping. She stole a quick glance around, the scent strong every paw-step. She skidded to a stop as the fluttering of wings startled her. The finch had been nesting is his ground nest, and it was as startled- or ever more- than she was. She leaped, thinking fast, and soared over the crisp undergrowth silently, barely causing the grasses to stir.
Her pelt rippled slightly in the faint breeze she was passing, as she landed on one of the finch's wings, it tried to flutter away, but to no avail. She held it down with a white paw, and it was dispatched in heartbeats by fangd biting its trachea. Tornadowing picked it up, still silent, and padded slowly back to the other cats, blood from the finch's neck covering her chest. She dropped the prey where everyone else's prey was.
Comments: Very well written, in some parts a bit to much, but very good, great detail. 93%
Dovewing:
The young she-cat scanned the clearing and slightly opened her jaws. She pricked her ears, alert to anything that might be around.
Suddenly, she picked up the scent of a rabbit. Then another. Smiling, she flattened herself to the brittled grass and slunk forward without a sound. She locked her eyes on the young brown rabbit, and slowly made her way toward it, making sure to stay as quiet as possible.
After moving at least ten tail-lengths in this slow procession, she hid behind a tall tussock of grass. She wasn't about to let her white pelt show her hiding place. Then, the rabbit started to hop carelessly by the very spot where she lay. Siezing the glorious oppurtunity, she sprang out and swiftly lunged for her prey's throat.
The rabbit sped off, but Dovewing was faster. She bolted after it, dodging every stone in her path, and in just a few heartbeats her fangs met the flesh of the rabbit's throat. She sank in her teeth, then shook viciously. Assured that it was dead, she trotted back to the huddle of cats and dropped it at Crystalmoon's paws.
Comments: Very interesting to read, good grammar. 85%
[glow=red,2,300]
1st place: Tornadowing
2nd place: Dyingheart
3rd Place: Dovewing
And honorable mention to Redfoot!
[/glow]2nd place: Dyingheart
3rd Place: Dovewing
And honorable mention to Redfoot!
