The tall, dying brown grasses of the field bounced playfully in breeze, bending in such a way that the moving reeds almost appeared to send ripples across the endless sea of the clearing. But the calm and lovely peace of the afternoon was quickly broken by the slender figure dashing across the plain, pushing his way blindly through the dry waters, in hot pursuit of a fluffy white critter sprinting just mere feet ahead of him. In hindsight, the impatient black tom probably could've caught his target already had he spent more time stalking it instead of spooking it into a run, but if there was anything that Rook cherished, it was the thrill of the chase. He adored it; it was what he lived for. His focus entirely on the hare in front of him, it only took a few sharp turns before he finally caught up to it and pounced, digging his claws into it's sides and quickly ending it's life with a sharp bite to the neck. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Rook grinned ecstatically and picked up his kill, his long tail waving proudly in the air. Despite all of the weird rules and such, being a clan cat really wasn't all too bad of a deal, honestly. It might actually be worth the trouble, so long as he could have more exhilarating hunts like this one.