no angst 2000 ‘N AA || Haunted Prey Pile?

[Chickbloom]

Chickbloom's mind had been in a whirl since confessing to Butterflytuft, wandering in circles and asking himself the same questions with no end in sight. The little sleep he usually got was now spend wide awake, laying in his nest and clutching his old collar, contemplating a concept that no one but him seemed to care about. All of this: an overwhelmed, anxious mind coupled with so much time awake, it served to make the milksop jumpy (well, jumpier than usual)

The warrior had just come back from patrol, depositing a tiny mouse onto the prey pile before buttery paws turned, aiming the tomcat towards the warriors' den before he froze in place, when folded ears flicked up at a noise behind him. The baby bird turned, not knowing what he'd find - but always expecting the worst - when amber eyes settled into mundane annoyance.

The mouse. The tiny, meager mouse he'd placed so delicately on their store of food, was lying discarded in the snow. It could've been a million things: the wind, a passing clanmate, or just poor balancing. With a sigh, Chickbloom picked it up and placed it back, turning around only to hear it fall a second later.

With a huff, the Scottish Fold put it back a third time, egg-battered fur standing on edge just a bit as he began to consider other possibilities. Now, amber eyes concentrated all their fearful attention, watching as the mouse, just as before, slid off the prey pile with no explanation.

Once was an annoyance. Two was a coincidence. But three times? There was only one reason for this.

"G-Ghost-" Chickbloom muttered, stepping back and blinking exhaustion away. Any passing cats would then see the former kittypet forming a small mound of snow around the prey pile, ringing it with a paw-high wall of frost. "The m-mouse I killed is a ghost now. It's - It's angry, I think. I'm building a wall around it to - y'know - to keep it away from the rest of camp." Chickbloom explained casually to a clanmate who could've just been commenting about the weather.

The coward was actually remarkably calm (for him, at least) given the imagined situation. It said something that Chickbloom was attempting to tackle the problem head-on instead of running away. Maybe he really had the skills to figure himself out. "Wanna help?"​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Ghost, it was muttered- Twitchbolt's face crumpled immediately into one of shock and terror. Was there something- hanging about that he wasn't seeing? His head whirled around, eyes stained suddenly wide. He'd only been wondering what Chickbloom was doing, but ... his fur stood on end at the thought. An angry mouse- it didn't sound intimidating, but who knew what a ghost could do? Maybe mice had their own form of StarClan ... maybe it was an awful existence for them, being chased around by spangled cat-paws for all of their after-lives.

"Wh-why would it be angry?" There was no derision in Twitchbolt's voice; just genuine bafflement. "Did you- did you give thanks to StarClan for it?" It was really the only reason he could think of that a spirit wouldn't be restful. Worry warbled in his eyes-

And it was stupid, really, he knew it in his heart. Even still, Twitchbolt idly joined in with the walling. "Someone still needs to eat it," he commented hoarsely, eyes darting side-to-side. Stupid... superstitions, he hated them whanever anyone had them, but didn't want to place a paw wrong on the off chance that it wasn't just... that it was tangible, and not some rumour. "C-can't waste it. Maybe someone won't mind..."​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Ghost, Figfeather is hardly amused. Twitchbolt responds baffled 'why would it be angry?' but Figfeather can't find it in her to even entertain Chickbloom's belief that a bitter mouse ghost was trying to escape from the fresh kill pile. It was bird-brained.

'Wanna help?' "No." Figfeather meows impatiently, "If you really think this- this mouse's ghost is running around, why not let it? What is it going to do? It's a mouse." For StarClan's sake, Chickbloom really was easier to fright than a bird on the forest floor!

She gives Twitchbolt a 'what in the world are you doing?' type of look as he begins to help with the wall. Was she the bird-brained one for not entertaining this? For not believing in it? Maybe the ghost will show her and take her as its first victim. She scoffs, no.

She steps over the wall around the freshkill pile the two tom's were making and scoops the body of the mouse out. "Don't worry—I'll eat it." She meows unafraid. Though as she turns to walk away an intrusive thought lingers, 'what if I'm sealing an early one way trip to StarClan by eating this?'

She pushes the thought back. 'No. It's bird-brained.' Figfeather thinks again in finality.

 

[Chickbloom]

As much as Chickbloom respected Twitchbolt, the baby bird couldn't help but feel bad seeing the effect his words had on the deputy. Of course the two shared similar souls, but the coward had seen the other grow much less fidgety over the last few moons, especially since retaking his position as second-in-command. Twitchbolt was more firmly put together, he'd concluded (then again, that was like comparing a house made of cards to one built of popsicle sticks).

"Y-Yeah, I did. Er, I'm p-pretty sure I did. Maybe I didn't? Did I forget? Oh, dear…" A flimsy answer had quickly turned into fearful mumbles, Chickbloom feeding off and fueling Twitchbolt's own anxieties. "M-Maybe it has un - y'know - unfinished business? L-Like a family it was trying to feed, or something…" Now the whelp was just making himself sad, imagining a tiny clan of mice starving in the cold.

The deputy's assertion brought the baby bird out of himself with a vigorous shake of the head. "Uh-uh, n-not me. I don't want a ghost haunting my insides. I don't - I d-don't think F-Fireflyglow can fix that…"

Figfeather may not have been a medicine cat, but she still served them both a dose of realism. The irritable she-cat's question left Chickbloom dumbfounded for a moment, realizing there wasn't much a ghost mouse could do to harm them, at least not physically. "It - It's still c-creepy!" The Scottish Fold shot back, voice a bit more high-strung than he'd intended. "Walking around, s-staring at us, p-pushing over prey…it's - it's invasive."

A sigh of relief clashed with a gasp of apprehension as Figfeather stepped forward to eat the mouse, creating a strange hiccup of fear that came out of the coward right as she carries the vessel away. "A-Are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe we should, like, d-do something to appease it first?" Chickbloom thought for a moment. After all, he'd been the one to kill it. If the mouse's ire was aimed at anyone, it would be him. Squatting slightly so he was eye-level with the corpse, the warrior spoke.

"Uh, y-you were a challenging catch. S-So skinny and - and small, you still managed the strength to keep away from me. It was - y'know - impressive, and I - I respect you for that." Rising up, wide amber eyes flicked between his fellow exorcists. "M-Maybe…m-maybe it's safe now…?"​

​

 

[cloudypaw~]

𓆝 . ° ✦Cloudypaw, while he wouldn't consider himself confident by any means, had certainly grown into his own since joining SkyClan. The mention of 'ghosts' piqued his interest as he padded by. Their yellow-green gaze flicked between the present warriors, confusion settling firmly across their face. "Ghost?" he echoed quietly. The mere thought gave him a shiver. "do mice even have souls? he wondered aloud. Figfeather's snark struck him as a bit rude, but he had at least learned when to keep his trap shut.

Despite his skepticism the patched tabby crouched along with Chickbloom in respect for the mouse. Who were they to assume it wasn't a ghost? Might as well appease it. Cloudypaw nodded along solemnly. "Well said,"

✧ ° . ✶ . ° ✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
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  CLOUDYPAW — HE/THEY ･ 12 MOONS ･ APPRENTICE ･ PENNED BY TWITCHTAIL

  lanky and tall light brown tabby with high white and green eyes. Big ol' himbo.