ALWAYS IN MY HEADSPACE ✦ event hunting / twoleg

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Dusk is unfairly frigid, frost radiating upwards through her paws until all the warmth she'd cultivated in camp is sapped from her limbs. Still, she forges onwards through the blistering chill, the now ever-present frost prickling her calloused pawpads. The redbrick shapes of Twolegplace announce themselves through the cold wind cutting at the thick fur of her cheeks, shrouded in the frost-flecked purple of a premature leafbare dusk. She tastes the air, detects the faint artificiality of Twolegplace through the cold clarity of the frost—and the warm, alive wildness of a mouse, threading itself gingerly through the taste of chill.

She swishes her tail to her patrol and splits off to pursue the scent, murmuring to @BLOODY MARY, " It's a mouse. Be quiet on your paws, and watch how I hunt it. " Her paws whisper over moulding leaves and delicate frost, stepping so lightly it does not even crunch under small white paws. She can see it now, a quivering brown body with beady black eyes shining in the low light, blessedly stark against the furious whiteness of the frost-tipped grass. One step, two—and she lunges, seizing its fragile body in her teeth so quickly it does not even have time to squeak.

It's a paltry catch, she registers with disappointment, eyeing the cold world around them and thinking of the kits curled against Butterflytuft's belly, the ones slumbering within Johnnyflame's. She coaxes a sigh from her chest—any prey is good, all prey is good—and sets it delicately on the earth, stepping to her apprentice momentarily. " You must step very softly around mice. Their whiskers are sensitive to pawsteps, just like ours. " Her eye surveys Bloody Mary thoughtfully, trying to figure out if the strange feline is taking any of this in, when crunching, shuffling steps announce themselves behind her.

A Twoleg. It's bundled up in a rainbow of dark furs, wielding what she belatedly recognizes as a broom, squawking unintelligibly. Its pale, fleshy paw is reaching for her catch, she realizes, and her jaws part instantly, face contorting into a deep-set hiss. She doesn't think, only jumps, twisting in the air, and drags both sets of foreclaws down whatever exposed skin she can find. Blood springs up, crimson and familiar, and it howls and takes a swing at her with the broom. Snarling, Doeblaze seizes her mouse and skitters out of the way, her claws tearing up tufts of frost-tipped grass.

" Twoleg! " she shouts around the mouse's damp body, hearing the crunches of its heavy pawsteps behind her and the whistling of the broom as it fails again to find a mark. Under her breath, she growls, " Persistent beast. "
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OOC : Rolled a 2; a Twoleg is competing with the cats for the prey! It is trying to drive them off with a broom.
Rolled an 18; challenged the Twoleg over prey and won.
Rolled a 5; 1 point, caught a mouse.
 

Hunting in the twolegplace was not really something Howlfire was particularly accustomed to. She had, of course, caught the occasional small mouse when on a patrol here, but hadn't actively gone out of her way to purposely hunt here. There were so many additional scents and sounds to work with, Howlfire wasn't even sure how well she could hunt here. It certainly made her more envious towards the daylight warriors in that moment, who were more accustomed to hunting in the twolegplace and could probably rustle up a few substantial catches out of this environment.

Up ahead, Doeblaze leads the patrol, instructing the new joiner, Bloody Mary to watch her carefully. From the sounds of it, it would appear her fellow lead warrior had scented a mouse. Howlfire reflected that it was probably a wise choice to make her pay attention and be more mindful of her steps. She hadn't spoken to the other she-cat much since she joined, but already found her to be a little eccentric. "I'm going to try and find something over there," Howlfire called out to both of them, signalling to a tree to the left of them. She wasn't hoping for much, but maybe if she was lucky, she could possibly scare a squirrel out of hiding. Keeping low, Howlfire scented the air a few times, trying to pick up on any sort of prey scent to follow. Sure enough, she could pick up a bit of a scent from a squirrel around the tree. Deciding to try her luck, Howlfire stretched up the bark of the tree before climbing up a branch or two, succeeding in disturbing a squirrel enough to come out of a hole in the tree. The animal realised its mistake almost instantly, but Howlfire was on it before it could retreat back to its hole, holding it down against the branch with her forepaws, before delivering a quick killing bite to its neck.

Usually, a squirrel wasn't all that impressive for her, but this one seemed particularly plump, likely having gotten fat off of whatever it was eating, so she was quite proud when she descended the tree with it in her mouth. Any chance to potentially celebrate her catch, and that of Doeblaze, is quickly dashed by the arrival of a twoleg wrapped in brightly covered clothes. It was swinging an unknown object in its hands, likely trying to get Doeblaze and Howlfire to drop their prey, or to simply scare the patrol off. Whilst Doeblaze jumped up and tried to aim for any exposed skin, Howlfire took the chance to aim a swipe at their exposed ankle, earning a shriek in return. Like Doeblaze, she was quick to dart across the grass to escape, when the twoleg attempted to retaliate by swinging the broom at her, and then when that failed a kick instead.

/ rolled a 19 for a successful prey roll + encounter! followed with a 17 for large prey (a very plump squirrel) for three points!
 

Given his origin, it was a bit strange that Chickbloom had never hunted near the twolegplace. Granted, the Scottish Fold was a bit of a shut-in during his time as a kittypet, but he certainly still knew more about how to navigate the area than the average wild-born cat.

Of course, the coward knew the reason he strayed away from tall fences and wide windows. If the familiar gazes of his housefolk ever met the milksop's own again, he wasn't sure what he'd do. Chickbloom didn't want to go back to that life, but the thought of turning away and breaking their hearts a second time…It was better if the pair simply thought he was dead.

Unfortunately hunger had no qualms about crossing the red lines within the whelp's psyche, so the warrior found himself stalking along the bottoms of fences and between brick structures, trying as hard to stay undetected from former owners as he was tracking food.

Compared to Doeblaze, it was a relatively easy challenge. Buttery paws stealthily swiped a squirrel as it was scrambling up smooth wood, its death allowing Chickbloom to breathe a sigh of relief that he wasn't completely useless. The coward was quick to stiffen up as his patrolmates yowls reached folded ears, nearly dropping his catch as he raced to their side.

"S-Stop hurting it! We can j-just run!" The coward called between the fur in his mouth, watching the skirmish with dinner-plate eyes. Chickbloom winced as the twoleg's blood speckled smooth skin, remembering with regret when he'd done that to his own housefolk.

// Rolled two 16s for a successful encounter and track, 13 for prey size = 2 points!​
 

Dusk came earlier with the changing weather, this pushed her to stay back a little later whenever she could. Using the last light of the day to guide her rather than a full blazing sunset. She thought maybe at least she could join this hunting patrol, last one of the day for her. There was a concern that the clan wasn't eating well enough, it didn't bother her so much as in a physical aspect. She had food to eat at home, however her daughter didn't. Her mate and friends didn't either, so whenever she sees the fresh kill pile become a little too low she tries to hunt as much as she can.

Twolegplace and it's border is known like the back of her paw, while it would be inconvenient to wander all the back to camp to deposit any prey caught just to come back here she thought maybe having more daylighters would help. It doesn't seem that much help is needed as the prey seems to be abundant here today, once again she faintly thinks of her mate. Of Kitestorm's stories about them and their siblings being over joyed when the twoleg carrion containers were abundant with mice. Would they have taken advantage of all the stray prey here today?

The thought is heavy on her mind as she strikes a squirrel, it feels average in size as she snaps its neck between fangs. The dead weight on her jaws being a feeling she's grown accustomed to. Why there was so much prey in twolegplace right now anyways is a mystery to her but she doesn't dwell on it.

Not when a broom narrowly misses her tail, growing lost in thought for a second while it had attacked her clanmates. Florabreeze's tail fluffs up extraordinarily and meows in protest as she jumps over the next swipe. With a huff she turns to run after her clanmates (not without giving the broom itself a swipe). "Trying to hurt it won't really do much!" She calls out after narrowly dodging another wayward swipe. "Let's take what we have and run, Chickbloom's right!"

  • Caught a squirrel for 2 points! (18 for finding prey and 11 for size)
  • FLORABREEZE 𖧧 She/her || Daylight Lead Warrior of SkyClan || 37 moons
    A large black tabby maine coon with low white and bright green eyes, always wearing her mushroom print collar if she can.
    Mentored by Sorrelsong /Mentoring Jellypaw & Sfogliatella
    "Speech", thoughts, attacking
    Penned by Juice ⏐ouijeejuice on discord {open to being dmed for plots}
 
"But I didn't get the mouse!" Hawkspine exclaims in plaintive retort to Florabreeze's order, his cry half a growl of frustration. It had been a sizeable mouse, enough to feed at least a warrior, but in all of the excitement his quarry had scurried away the instant he'd glanced at the twoleg. It had been intent on Doeblaze at first, but as he watches it changes its target to focus on Howlfire and a cold drop of fear chills Hawkspine to his very core. He's reminded of Wolfpaw, trapped behind the unbreakable spiderweb, quiet and unable to escape.

"Mama!" Re-tracking attempt abandoned and chased from his mind by the escalating situation, he runs— not in the direction of safety, but towards Howlfire. He doesn't get far before being intercepted, a swipe of the broom knocking him off his paws as the twoleg defends itself from what wasn't going to be an attack. He rolls to stand, bristles sticking to his fur, but his indignation has turned to fear as he calls, "Gotta go!"

// 13 (found prey, lost) & 7 (1 point)
 
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It's real funny, the way SkyClan functioned. A thing like her wouldn't bat an eye at the rubber-burnt stench of Twolegplace. It made her, she might even say. Picked clean, one could think her, but rot clung to her in this way deeper than the surface level. In her lungs sang smog. Plastic was probably her heart— real bummer for anything that wanted to split her open... It's like the bloody wrenching of a claw, looking at this one-eyed fawn of hers... Doe hooves are sheepskin, really. If the wolf didn't swallow her first, she could split her open, she's sure... Would she be disappointed by what she found?

She can feel lilke a proper wild cat, with the way her skull slopes a mere moment after her teacher's. Meat— mouse, yeah. The film of her eyelids form a lizardlike squint. She gives a rumble at the word... Quiet's not her strong suit, no. Not really fun, neither... Though the aftertaste of surprise was something, she supposes. Obedient, that's a thing like her. Or right now it would be, anyhow. This thing gives a chuff of a breath. As far as prey goes, she's more interested in the huntress than the hunted, in all honesty...

The deer's got teeth, though. She naps that little neck. Batty ears shuffle themselves atop a pale skull, keen to listen. When it turns to her, she's grinning, of course. The tiny body only catches her gaze for a moment before she gives her everything. " Couldn't they taste better a little fearful...? " They could – they couldn't. Who knows what's real? They're all little more than mouse-meat themselves. This one takes a whiff, intends to take in that scent of death the way the wildcats do... but there's something even greater, just beyond it. The turn of a dog-head is sluggish . Red rivulets are pulled loose with the greedy gape of her maw. " Smell somethin', " she rumbles, ears shifting.

And it's not the big ugly beast rearing toward them now. Neither was it carrying any of the good stuff they sometimes did. Wild cats panic. Mary guesses she wasn't one of them yet, cause her snort is nothin' but discontented. Blood scent hits the air. It's not the sort she wants.

They could distract it for her... She's bitten plenty of upwalkers in her day, course. But what the wildcats cared more about was this: the rustle in the brush that thought it could get away. A predator licks spit from its lips. Look at her, doing slow and soft just the way the fawn wanted. And when she pounces, look at this: prey blood.

Quiet is abandoned the very moment she possibly can. A grey body dangles limply from her maw as she rejoins the group, crashing in near the side of Florabreeze. Grey eyes fix on her for a moment. She wonders if the corpse would allure like it did a Wildcat, or repulse like it did a Kittypet. The inbetweens, that's them... She's distracted, isn't she? Yeah, she supposes she'll go...
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  • OOC. rolled a 15 and then 14 for prey size! 2 points for a squirrel :)
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    BLOODY MARY ⬪ KITTYPET. SHE - HER - HERS. 24 MOONS.
    A dog-like woman. Large, with bulk in some places, and only lean muscle in others. Elegant at some angles, acutely strange looking at others. Has a longer, wolfish muzzle and gleaming dog teeth near-always on display due to an overbite. Skull presses insistent against her skin. Eyes are almost too - large, and not all sunken in her skull. Has large, tufted ears. Polydactyl, with a curved spine and recently-chopped tail.