all the other kids with the pumped up kicks ʚɞ junk

[Sweetpaw]

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They are drawn to the scent, confusion evident on their face and golden yellow eyes wide despite not seeing what was before them. This area lacked much bird song or insect cries, something had passed through this way recently and startled the forest into silence and his dark paws plodded along with little wariness or concern - his nose guided him forward, paws lightly brushing the ground as he stepped about to carefully test the uneveness of the earth and though occasionally a twig snapped or leaf pile rustled alarmingly close Sweetpaw did not flinch. There was no danger scent, not worry that something horrible was this way, everything had a smell and everything dangerous often made itself known. What they did hear was a soft rustling not quite unlike the fallen leaves of trees that crunched underfoot, but somehow more shrill in cadence. His paw hit something at least, the source of the noise and he dropped to a crouch to inspect with a tentative sniff. It reminded them of the Thunderpath with its bitter and burning scent, but felt like a hollow tree. Sweetpaw's whiskers brushed a surface that seemed too thin to be a sturdy trunk but too hard to be a normal plant - maybe some kind of rock. Inside the empty thing the many rustling noises continued as they batted at it and finally he raises his head to dip into the open top.
Sweet, honey-like, it is a sugary and overwhelming thing to thrust his face into and he reels back with a sneeze in reply. The odd crinkling not-leaves didn't have the damp earth smell that most leaves often did so they had to be something else entirely.

ʚɞ ･ﾟ･ sweet like honey - little yellow bees ʚɞ ｡･sweet honey nights & golden honey days

• Mentor Tag - @FORESTSHADE
  Prompt - An odd plastic bowl of sorts is found near camp, filled with crinkling and shining leaves that smell oddly sweet: what could this be? (Sweetpaw has found an abandoned jack-o-lantern themed trick or treat bucket full of candy wrappers.)
  
• 
  
  
  Sweetpaw
  —⊰⋅ Apprentice of ShadowClan
  —⊰⋅ They/Them
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ LH Solid black w/golden eyes (Is Blind)
  

​

 

[smogstar]

Left on ShadowClan land is a twoleg-shaped pawprint, one which cannot be simply swept away. The thunderpath straddles their territorial margin, all while Carrionplace festers like an open wound in the swamp's farther reaches, and from both directions does twoleg refuse arrive on marsh soil. It vexes the deputy to no end.

His understanding of them is relegated to only a rudimentary grasp, having never ventured into conversation with one, yet he maintains absolute certainty about one particular aspect: they are wasteful. Remarkably wasteful. When he makes dirt, Smogmaw demonstrates enough integrity to at least cover it up. When twolegs do the same, they abandon it in broad daylight, where it will sit indefinitely.

Degrading nature's purity, and blighting the lives of those who inhabit it. Just sickening.

On that note, the tom isn't all too pleased to learn twoleg residue has surfaced at the cusp of their camp. News drifts with extraordinary grace amongst the reeds, and upon learning of it via passerby, Smogmaw barrels after. He cannot and will not risk some wayward apprentice happening upon whatever it was, least they ensnare themselves or come down with a disease. Another plague on their paws would be the allegorical 'cherry on top' to the clan's flourishing misfortunes.

Imagine his surprise when he sees Sweetpaw rummaging through it, like a gopher scuttling into its hole. Smogmaw swerves a left, straight into the young feline's trajectory. The sole force curbing his paw from smacking it away from their head is Forestshade's presence, whose supervision casts an adequate, albeit negligible reassurance. "Is that a pellet container? What is that?" It's a bona fide thing. He hasn't seen a kibble bowl in all his days, thank the stars, but this appears almost too deep, too concave to feed a kittypet.

Cautiously drawing near, he glimpses something shiny just past Sweetpaw's midnight tufts. He lurches to a halt. Not just a singular shiny—an entire sea of shinies, reminiscient to dry leaves in the manner they crinkled. "Well, I'll be," he mutters, awestruck, though his resignation had yet to creep away. "Sweetpaw, don't put any of those in your mouth."

That's his job.​

 

[DEERPAW -]

"How strange." Deerpaw's nose crinkles delicately as they stalk over, mismatched toes muddied by ShadowClan's marshes on their short trek. Pale eyes sweep over the group- first to Forestshade, then to the awed Smogmaw, and finally to the curious Sweetpaw with his entire muzzle in a ... thing. Their ears twitch backwards, recoiling slightly as the reek of twoleg refuse hits their sensitive nose. It's violently amber, twinkling contents disrupted by the older apprentice's curiosity, and Deerpaw's gaze traces their shapes briefly.

How miserable. They note, front paws pressed together with tangible discomfort. The Carrionplace expands. It seems that every time they turn their back, they find these horrible symbols of eternity further and further into ShadowClan's territory. A bitter taste in their mouth, Deerpaw's tail twitches. They can only hope their siblings don't come across something like this.​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

The crinkling swiftly draws the she-cat's attention, her brown paws following her apprentice with curiosity. "What is it?" She asks them, lingering nearby but not getting too close. It's important for Sweetpaw to deal with new things on his own - his mother won't always be around to keep them safe. So she stands idly, head cocked sharply to the side as her son rummages through the contents of whatever they've found.

She chortles as Smogmaw warns them of putting anything in their mouth, her ears flicking back in amusement. "Unless it tastes like mouse. Been a while since I've tasted mouse." It's a delicacy in the marsh. She can smell Deerpaw nearby and gestures with her tail, inviting the apprentice to join Sweetpaw in exploring the artifact. "It sounds like something we'd find in the Carrionplace." How did twoleg garbage get all the way near camp? She doesn't think too long and hard about it.​

 

[✧ Siltcloud.]

" I'M AN ANGEL " ?
TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN BY THAT​

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siltcloud ♕ 18 moons ♖ female ♘ she/her ♙ shadowclan warrior ​

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Siltcloud has never seen such a thing before - not even in the dregs of the carrionplace, or while wandering the streets of the twolegplace. When the dust hued molly comes to join the commotion, it's with wide eyes - startled by the sounds and sight. " Do you think.... it's dangerous? " she asks, tone dull and soft, but the longer she stares, the more interested she seems. Crooked tail twitches - whiskers quiver. They make a pleasing sound to her ears as Sweetpaw shuffles them about, and one in particular catches her eyes - strikingly shiny and gold. " ....should we take some back? " she adds hastily as she wonders if lilacfur would like one. It'd certainly look nice in her nest.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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I ' M - A - N I G H T M A R E ?━ I - K N O W - W H A T - Y O U - M E A N - B Y - T H A T

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[RIBBITLEAP]

"What's that?" It seems like Sweetpaw’s always getting his nose into something, these days - the blind apprentice inspecting all sorts of strange, twoleg-descending objects. Ribbitleap has no explanation for the strange moon-round object the child finds, nor for the crinkling stars it collects, as he pads near it to investigate too.

They smell of food, the stars, but none appetizing to him - sickeningly sweet, nothing Ribbitleap would find himself enjoying, even if the objects weren't also riddled with twoleg scent.

"It'd probably make you no better than a kittypet, if you ate any of that," the brown tabby says, words pointed to no one in particular, though curiosity is piqued in some of the cats he's stood alongside. "I don't think it's dangerous, but... I wouldn't touch it." It's too far from the Carrionplace, too far from proper explanation - there's still a chance this is some strange twoleg trap.
​