a case of the munchies [open/ sharing tongues]

[Johnnyflame]

MY WORLDS ON FIRE, HOW 'BOUT YOURS?
THAT'S THE WAY I LIKE IT AND I NEVER GET BORED."​

---

The days were getting noticeably shorter compared to greenleaf, and with them came a crisp cold during the early mornings and late nights when the sun fell below the horizon. It wasn't unbearable yet, but any seasoned warrior could already feel the effects to the world around them, a ripple effect that would only get worse before it got better. Shorter days, but the workload stayed the same, as did the hours invested in the pine forest. He just saw a little more of the night sky, was all. The day had not been a kind one, though. The prey had been noticeably harder to catch. The patrol had still come back with a decent haul, but it’d taken longer than usual to gather, and Johnnyflame was looking forward to relaxing for a bit with his clan and his mate before he had to head home for the night.

As his group entered through the brambles and made their way over to add their catches to the pile though, Johnny found himself pausing, He dropped his sparrow next to a squirrel and began sniffing lightly at the pile. What was that smell? His mouth had begun watering the moment he caught a whiff of it, which was extremely unusual given how well he’d trained himself on his kibble; never take from the pile when you had food waiting for you at home.

But he was a curious cat, and so he let himself look- just to know what rare delicacy his clanmates had managed to bring in.

”No way.” he scoffed to himself lightly as he singled it out.

Just a mouse.

It wasn’t even particularly plump or fresh, but he still had to swallow down the mouthful of saliva it caused him. Why was he so tempted to snatch it off the pile for himself?

Shaking his head, he stepped away from the pile entirely. The extra effort so close to the days end must have burned through a few more of his calories than usual, causing the mouse to smell particularly good. But he’d be heading home soon enough and he didn’t need to squander prey when he had a full bowl waiting for him. Instead, he caught sight of a group settled in and sharing tongues in the fading light, and promptly made his way over to join them with a smile and a trill of greeting, flopping down beside one of his clanmates happily as they began to groom him.

”I’m officially off the clock. Don’t even wanna drag myself back to my twolegs after that patrol- the prey made us work for it tonight, that’s for sure.” he huffed, none too impressed with the extra effort the weather was already demanding of them.

OOC- Feel free to be the cat he plopped down beside/whose grooming him!

---

​

 

[Sorrelsong]

​

. ° ♡ . . ♡ °

SORRELSONG ​

---

♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡​

"Mmm they like to make us do that, don't they?" Sorrelsong sighs, her tongue flying over Johnnyflame's pelt in welcome. Her stomach, like many of her clanmates, was painfully not-full. Even the huntress was having problems finding prey - which was far more of a hit to her ego then she'd like to admit aloud. I wonder if they have to hunt for their prey too, she almost voices, but thankfully keeps her maw shut. Of course they do, that's how it works. Thankfully, none of her clan mates are mind-readers (to her knowledge) so her silly question stays safely tucked away. Then, a thought.
" What do you think Twoleg's hunt? I mean, they have kibble and whatnot all the time, but, where does it come from?" She frowns, thinking. Was it from monsters? Like ground up monsters? That would be.. weird. They never really looked edible to her - though it was hard to tell when most of her energy was spent getting as far away from the dang things as she could.
_______________________________________________
↪ OOC:
​

 

[Chickbloom]

"You - y'know - you can't really b-blame them, though" Chickbloom chirps his small addition as he pads forwards. a part of Johnnyflame's hunting patrol, the skittish Scottish Fold had had similar luck - that is to say, not much. "Imagine - Imagine mice three o-or - or four t-times your size chasing you all d-day, I know I'd try and g-give 'em the slip..." The crybaby suddenly shivered at the thought, half-certain he knew what nightmare would be plaguing his fitful sleep tonight.

Thankfully Sorrelsong changed the subject, and folded ears gratefully flicked up, considering the query while he picked at the other's fur. "I'll - I'll bet it has s-something to do with m-monsters" the anxious cat answered eventually. unlike the easter eggs and pumpkins, the former kittypet couldn't boast his (incorrect) knowledge on the subject, but Chickbloom had what he considered a good theory. "Y-Yeah, monsters must - they h-hunt for twolegs, and the housefolk g-give 'em shelter in return. it's-" An invisible brow furrowed, trying to remember the word. "It's symbi-para-whatever. g-good for both, y'know." A small frown appeared his face after a moment, though, like he'd just smelled out prey.

"I d-don't know why they don't just - y'know - have us - er, kittypets - hunt for 'em instead" Chickbloom mumbled, flicking a yolk-tipped tail towards Johnnyflame. The coward had had to correct himself. it was sometimes still weird to think that he had very little in common with the other warrior anymore. "Bet you'd h-hunt better than - y'know - those smelly things any d-day."​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

The space between Silversmoke and Sorrelsong had been a deliberate one made by a cat who wanted to try being nearer to his clanmates but did not want their tongues smoothing down the wild fur across his body. Most of it he could do himself, the rest he would ask Johnnyflame to do, and no sooner did he think about his mate, the bobtail showed up, igniting his namesake within the heart of the tom. He watched the smoke take the initiative and groom Johnny first, eliciting a few blinks from Silversmoke but little else. A gap in cleaning allowed Silversmoke to bunt his head against the other's in greeting and as he withdrew himself, a small, teasing smile ghosted his muzzle. He remembered himself quickly as conversation begun, a final, pining glance offered towards the Daylight Warrior before a more stoic attention was offered to Sorrelsong.

Do Twolegs hunt? It wasn't a question he'd considered before, and, given the disgust knotting in his belly, he was doubtful to ever consider it again. He had seen the grin of many-a-Twolegs, it didn't seem like their smooth teeth could hunt anything but grass, yet all the same, he did not find himself wanting to test how much a bite from them would hurt. Chickbloom, as always, had his own theories, the confidence of the fold's pumpkin talk noticeably absent. Monsters hunt, the other decided and suddenly, the mystery of the Thunderpaths seemed to unravel. 'The hunting ground for Monsters...' he thought, his fur bristling and heart thumping loudly at such a revelation. The many injuries and deaths monsters had caused suddenly became more more sinister - to know you were being hunted was... uncomfortable.

A change of subject was sorely needed and, unconsciously, Chickbloom provided. He swallowed a lump in his throat and bowed his head in relief, fear still pounding at the back of his skull though muted compared to what it could've been. "Kittypets do enough for them already," he mewed towards his friend, his tail-tip twitching. "How many mice would a Twoleg ask for? Too many, there'd barely be any left over for the clans."

​