pafp a darkness up ahead || failed hunt

[CLEARSIGHT]

---

➵ Since Greypool's death — since falling in himself and barely surviving, then nearly succumbing to the hypothermia — since nearly losing Gillpaw to the very same fate — Clearsight has been thoroughly discouraged from the river.

They all have. The risk is no longer justifiable.

And land hunting has been... sparse, to say the least.

Success is fleeting even for their most skilled, and Clearsight is... not exactly the most skilled. He's survived leaf-bares before. He can manage it, and he's training Gillpaw to manage just the same — to manage even better. But land hunting is simply not his strong suit. He is riverborn at heart; he is a fisherman, steady and patient.

Fewer and fewer patrols have borne fruit. This one, it seems, will be one of many failures. Night has fallen and they've caught nothing, and now yet another mouse escapes his claws, final fearsome lunge achieving nothing at all — Clearsight curses and he curses loudly, voice breaking as he stares into the dark.

"Fuck," he says. "Fuck!"

He thinks of Willowroot, precious babies in their belly. He thinks of Smokethroat depending on rest and nutrition to recover. He thinks of Gillpaw, his Gillpaw, still recovering from the fall and the cold.

Who could this mouse have fed?

He grits his teeth, flexing claws in the dirt, and turns toward Mudpelt, who's had as little luck as he's had.

"We can't go back with nothing," the blue tabby says, voice hoarse and heavy. "We can't."

@MUDPELT
​

---

& we've all got battle scars ✗ ​

 

[MUDPELT]

Mudpelt doesn't attend hunting patrols too often, mostly because he can't hunt. When he's not patrolling the borders, he's at the river's edge, fishing. It's gotten harder with the cold, but he mastered the art of swiftly swiping last leaf-bare. That is how he contributes to the clan. But still, when Clearsight said he was going out to hunt, he wasn't going to say no! The dark brown tom's a yes-man, so of course he said he'd tag along.

It's going about as expected. Mudpelt pounces, large paws clumsily missing the water vole he'd been stalking. A grunt escapes him as he continues to try and bat it down, but it scurries down a burrow and the warrior seats himself just outside the hole in disappointment. Still not getting the hang of land hunting, it seems. With a heavy sigh, he gets up and pads back in the direction of Clearsight, just in time to hear his loud cursing. Ears flattening, he approaches slowly and flicks his tail awkwardly. "We could try fishing...?" He offers uncertainly, but he knows how the other tom feels about the river right now. Stupid suggestion, Mudpelt! ​

 

[DogTeeth]

Dogteeth emerges from the icy reed stalks, strumming the clunky weeds with his snow dusted coat. A small collection of frost on a black nose made up the scenting warrior. He hadn’t much luck himself lately, so with sympathy in his eyes he regards Clearsight’s outburst with small natural flinches. In the darkness it echoes, the desperate song of hunger and frustration.

Dogteeth’s ribs jut, his cheekbones have sunken in. While it complimented his eyes and curls, his belly aches and his mind is fuzzy from hunger. He whips his chin to Mudpelt, the sunless sky is cold and seems to chuckle at the hunting Riverclanners.

" the colder it gets, the more dangerous it is to fish with fur as short as yours, Mudpelt " Dogteeth’s soft voice carries on frosted breath, breaking and cracking in his throat from the dry air. " A-and Clearsight… " he pauses, not knowing what to say.

" you are doing your best. " he carefully threads the words. Eyes heavy, limbs shaking he’s so exhausted.
​

OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• — Dogteeth
  — twenty-five moons
  — voice ref
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with blue eyes.
  — very gentle soul / easily upset and sensitive
  — deals a nasty bite
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

​