toad tipping (open)

She had been crouched under the same dripping, gnarled bundle of tree roots for at least half an hour. She could feel muck and mud beginning to slip through her toes and stick to the white hairs of her pelt the longer she stayed there, but there was a reason for her self-imprisonment. Just ahead, barely out of pouncing range, two big toads were squaring off, puffing up and croaking to attract potential partners.

Just as well for her. The more toads that gathered and the closer they came to one another, the better her chances of snatching more than one at a time were. Slowly, Batheart tried to pick up each of her paws one at a time to dislodge them from the muck. If she timed it right, she could conceal the popping-sucking sounds of the swamps as her paw pads were freed with their incessant croaks. The moment the next toad began to puff up, Batheart launched herself out of her hiding place. Her paws kicked up mud and bits of moss. Desperately, the toads scrambled and hopped in different directions. Batheart hissed and lunged, catching one between her paws and puncturing the softer skin of its underbelly with her claws. A quick bite to the leg ensured it wouldn’t be swimming anywhere quickly, and off she went, tearing after the second toad.

Closer and closer she came to it, splashing through the murky waters as she ran the amphibious creature into a corner of rocky outcroppings and twisted roots.

”Got you!” she grinned, pouncing forward and opening her maw to deliver the killing bite—only to have the toad pop between her paws as they came together, causing a spray of bile and foul smelling sludge to squirt back against her face and neck. Yowling with surprise and protest, Batheart scrambled backwards through the mud, abandoning the fetid frog and swiping a paw over her eyes to try and keep the nasty fluids from getting anywhere near them. ”Starclan’s foxdung eating slugs,” she cursed, bristling with… she didn’t even know what. Surprise? Anger? Disappointment? It had to be a mix of all three, she supposed. Grumbling under her breath, Batheart turned and retraced her steps to go and find the first frog that she had killed. At least she had gotten one of the two…

Only, the first frog wasn’t where she had left it.

At Batheart stared at the bloodstains smeared across the rock where she had set it, the fur on her shoulders started to bristle. Great. ”Just great,” she added aloud.