Lunch on the Run (Training)

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The chittering of the squirrel filtered through the rush of wind through leaves and the myriad of insect and bird calls filling the woods, but it alone was the focus of Isha’s attention. Perhaps surprising to most, Squirrel was a favored food of the young Inuzuka, but their speed, agility, and senses bordering on paranoia made them a most difficult treat to catch. Isha was already laid low in some ferns, thick leaves of verdant green masking her from sight while the nervous rodent hopped from place to place. It was digging up the nuts and acorns it so loved; each hop was accompanied by a tense pause in motion and a turn of its ears. Sneaking up on a squirrel was no simple task even for a cat, but dogs had less of a chance still. Gizmo, the snow white monster, was lurking off on the periphery of Isha’s hunting ground, watching with mild interest as the scene was soon to unfold.

Beyond the rodent’s keen vision, its nose twitched constantly in a vigilant search of the wind for any signs of impending danger. The small Inuzuka had positioned herself downwind of the animal, so had nothing to worry about there, but she knew full and well that the moment she made her break, the squirrel would bolt for a safe spot, and do its best to get out of the girl’s reach. The shinobi still waited, watching as each hop drew the squirrel further and further from the tree it called home, and slowly increased her chances of scoring a quick lunch. She was down on all fours already, crouched beneath the outstretched arms and deeper shadows of a fern. All around her a multitude of bushes and low branches helped conceal her location, but inch by inch she was preparing to reveal herself. Her fingers dug into the dirt with each movement of her prey, the sharp nails of her toes pushing against firm soil and rocks in anticipation of the moment she’d finally be able to strike. She wanted this prize, but desire was often not enough to fill her belly with freshly cooked meat. It would take raw speed to take down this rodent, and that was something she was slowly building with each day of her life.

The time came in an instant, a single blissful moment of opportunity. The squirrel hopped forward, sniffed the air, then bent down and started to dig through leaf litter and dirt. It was distracted for a moment, its mind and its senses devoted momentarily to locating a seed long stored below ground. It was Isha’s moment, and with the primed instincts of her bestial clan, she raced forward and pounced on her prey with predatory zeal. Gizmo sat up some, his ears pricking to attention as a spray of dirt and dry leaves erupt from beneath the girl, Isha herself appearing from the greenery with sudden speed and ruthless determination. Barely an instant later the squirrel’s keen senses her upon her, ears first and then beady black eyes catching the swift approach of the hungry ninja. The chase was on.

The squirrel dropped its own prize in favor of survival and with no sound, no spray of dust or even sense of panic, it hopped gracefully forward. It was too far from its own tree to retreat back in that direction, but squirrels were one of Mother Nature’s finest creations. Its first hop cleared almost five feet in a graceful and silent stride, juxtaposed against the fury of Isha’s wild dash for the kill. When it landed it ran, all four legs working in perfect harmony to propel the tiny creature forward at speeds even Isha often grew jealous of. When the squirrel bolted, Isha was hot on its heels. For only a moment she is within reach, a bit of surprise mixed with her natural speed to place her within striking distance and she does not waste her chance. A swipe of her arm, however, is not enough. The squirrel evades by zipping off to the side, a maneuver which does not slow its momentum in the least.

The squirrel is upon a tree in the next moment, scurrying up a broad brown trunk as though it were running across flat, featureless terrain; but Isha is still after it. The squirrel races up and out onto a branch, and no sooner is it leaping, than Isha is bouncing effortlessly off the trunk and up to the midpoint of the same branch. The squirrel switches trees with a graceful leap through open air, passing from the thin ends of one branch to scurry across the top of another. Isha mimics the same move, a quick jump propelling her through the air to land only inches from the still swiftly fleeing squirrel. The chase continues from branch to branch, the bit of prey leading the predator on a wild and meandering course through a host of some four more trees.

Each step, each jump brought Isha a bit closer, but the squirrel would counter with sudden changes of direction, once even turning right on its heels to race beneath the shinobi chasing it. Isha almost fell out of the tree with her wild attempt to swipe at, claw, and gnash her teeth into the rodent as it races by, managing only at the last moment to catch the branch with her hand. This does not deter her, however, and as quickly as she began to fall, she was back on her hands and feet and chasing after the morsel of tender, seed fed meat. She wanted it. She needed it. Her stomach demanded and she simply had to have that squirrel, and so she refused to give up. She scrambled across branches, up and down the broad trunks of Land of Fire’s famous old growth trees, but the squirrel seemed each moment more and more as though it might escape.

Isha’s knack for rapid motion and perfect control of her body was the only edge she had on the squirrel. Its speed was a break-neck need for survival and while it did give it raw quickness, it didn’t give it the same perfection in motion which it would need to survive. It can’t be said that Isha is always victorious. Few animals are frequently victorious when they choose squirrels as their prey, and Isha’s war record against the fuzzy grey rodents was perhaps one in twenty, with the biased placed firmly on squirrelish victory. This time, however, was one of those rare five percent. The squirrel made a single error in its escape, and Isha was there to seize the moment, and snatch up her victory.

It was during the squirrel’s transition from one tree to another, a single leap of desperation which feel a little short. The squirrel missed its mark, and though it didn’t fall it slowed for a moment in a wild scramble for a foothold against the rough bark of a tree branch. Isha was upon it, landing on the mark the squirrel had hoped for, and sweeping around in a single fluid motion. A swipe of her hand caught the rodent, who exploded in a loud cacophony of panicked chitters and screams, but it was far too late. Isha’s hand gave the squirrel a solid shake, and through the snap of a few bones the squirrel was vanquished and fell limp and still in her hand. Though worn out and panting for breath, Isha smiled with exaltation, and lifted her prize high above her head.

“I got it!” she shouted triumphantly towards her dog, who’d watched the whole ordeal with mild interest. In response Gizmo just yawned and laid back down. He was unimpressed as ever, mostly because such a small meal was hardly something he deemed worthy of chasing down. Isha was of a different opinion. Catching the tiny beast had required all of her speed, every ounce of her boundless energy and graceful effort. It was no simple victory, but a turning point in her efforts. Her last hunt had gone similar, and for the first time she'd manage to catch her small and agile prey not once, but twice in a row. Her confidence grew as she turned her mind to what manner of spice she'd throw on the roasting meat this time, and just how she'd cook her catch tomorrow.