As I lay there, hiding behind the pile of rubble, I can't help but feel a gnawing hunger in my stomach. I've never had to hunt for food before, always having something in the fridge. I can't help but think, "Wow, I've been living the life of luxury. How will I survive now?"
I decide to start by looking for a fresh water source. Cats need water as much as humans do, right?
I cautiously make my way out of my hiding spot, scanning the area for any sign of danger. The dystopian city is eerily quiet, the only sound being the occasional crumbling of a building.
As I wander, I come across a small stream. Not wider that a few centimeters, but still running water. I eagerly lap up the cool water, feeling refreshed and invigorated. "Okay, water check," I think to myself. Having at least a direction from where the stream comes from to get more water. "Now, onto finding food."
I begin sniffing around, trying to pick up any scents of potential prey. But all I can smell is the overwhelming stench of decay and pollution.
"Great, just my luck. The apocalypse happens and all the good mice and birds must have evacuated,"
I slowly make my way I see a group of birds perched on a crooked telephone wire and I can't help but smile to myself.
"Looks like I won't have to go full lion or tiger after all, I can start small with some birds."
I begin to stalk the birds, trying to remember everything I've ever seen on nature documentaries about hunting. I crouch low to the ground, moving slowly and quietly. Trying to keep low in the tall fauna around. I can feel my heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. What if the birds fly away before I even get close? What if I don't know how to catch them? Can I even bring myself to kill and eat it raw?
"Well, how hard can it be? I am a cat, after all."
As I get closer to the birds, I can feel my muscles tense up, ready to pounce. And then, before I know it, I'm leaping into the air, claws extended. But as soon as I make my first jump, I realize that I am not as graceful as I had hoped. My paws slip and slide on the pavement and I crash to the ground in a heap.
The birds take flight, chirping in what I imagine to be laughter at my failed attempt. I lay there for a moment, feeling embarrassed and disappointed.
"Well, maybe hunting is not my strong suit,"
I pick myself up and dust off my fur, determined to find another way to get my next meal.
I continue my search for food, my mind racing with ideas. I think about trying to catch a rat or a mouse, but the thought alone makes me shiver. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that kind of intense hunting yet. So, I keep looking, my nose to the ground, searching for any signs of food.
I sit on the ground, watching the birds flit about the sky. I've never hunted before, but I'm getting pretty hungry. I watch as a group of sparrows fly past and sitting themselves on the grass before me
"Well, I might as well give it a shot again."
I crouch down, ready to pounce, and... miss completely. The birds fly away, chirping in amusement.
"Okay, okay,"
"Maybe hunting isn't my strong suit. I'll just have to stick to catching the slower ones."
I spend the next hour or so stalking the rooftops, chasing after any bird that happens to fly by. I miss more often than not, but eventually, I manage to snag a small bird. I devour it quickly, feeling a sense of triumph mixed with disgust at my own primal instincts.
As I lick my paws clean, I can't help but chuckle to myself.
"Who knew hunting was so hard? I guess it's a good thing I'm a house cat and not a lion or something."
I decided to change tactics and slink through the grass, my tail held low and my ears perked forward. My eyes scan the horizon, searching for any sign of movement. The bird I've been tracking has been elusive, but I know it's out here somewhere. I can smell it, a faint hint of feathers and earth that I learned to associate with birds, carried on the breeze.
I move slowly, careful not to make a sound. I've learned that birds are easily frightened, and if I want to catch this one, I'll have to be stealthy. I creep closer and closer, my eyes never leaving the sky.
Suddenly, I spot a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I freeze, watching as the bird takes flight, its wings slicing through the air. I watch it for a moment, studying its movements, trying to predict where it will land. And then I take off, chasing after it.
I run as fast as I can, staying low to the ground as my paws pounding against the ground. I can feel the wind in my fur, and I know that I'm getting closer. The bird is still in sight, and I can hear its squawks as it communicates with other birds around. But I won't be deterred. I've been tracking this bird for too long, and I'm not about to let it get away.
I crouch low to the ground, my tail twitching with excitement. The smell of the bird's feathers fills my nose, a mix of earthy and woodsy scents. I've been tracking this bird for what seems like forever, and now that it's finally within my grasp, I can feel my blood pumping with adrenaline. I watch as it hops around, completely unaware of my presence.
I wait for the perfect moment to strike. I tense my muscles and then, with a burst of energy, I leap towards the bird. It squawks in surprise, but I'm too fast for it. I sink my claws into its feathers, they feel soft and fluffy under my paws, and we both go tumbling to the ground.
The bird fights back, pecking and clawing at me, but I don't let go. I hold on tight, my claws digging deeper into its flesh. I can feel the warmth of the bird's blood as it starts to seep through its feathers. The bird's blood has a metallic smell that mixes with the earthy scent of the feathers. The blood is thick and dark, a deep red color, it starts to cover my paws and my fur, making them sticky.
I can feel its struggles weakening, and I know that victory is mine. With one final squawk, the bird goes limp in my grasp. I let out a triumphant mewl, feeling the surge of satisfaction that comes with a successful hunt. I take a moment to catch my breath, the smell of the fresh grass and the damp soil fill my nose, and survey my prize. The bird's body is limp, and the blood starts to coagulate, sticking to my fur and paws. Then I take it's body in my mouth and drag it away in search for shelter to devour it in peace. Feeling proud of my achievement.
My first hunting trip went surprisingly well. One small bird and one big bird.