camp ANARCHY | trying to eat

[DEACON]

RiverClan, Deacon decided, was full of mouse-droppings. His skepticism had been present from the moment the web-toed weirdos had come onto colony territory with the grandiose promises, at each turn, they had let him down in a new way. A 'free' river if they saved some cat with a bad name had been rewarded with exile from the river and that very same cat being lost to them forever, it'd taken moons for the colony to warm up to RiverClan and now they were expected to put their trust in... TreeClan? To top it off, it'd been suggested that the black tabby may have to change his name, yet their squirrely saviours had so many colourful names that the idea of toying with his own seemed utterly asinine. He didn't know what was worse, the fact that he was getting dragged through the coals, or that he couldn't do anything about it. Bound to whatever group picked him up and certain that the world outside was full of even more rogues, Deacon found himself with little choice but to endure - he'd done it well enough for forty moons, he could do it for another forty if the situation called for it.

Solitary, the tomcat strutted into camp, chip on his shoulder but smirk pushing down the feelings of starvation that were so common it felt more like background noise. Without the river to supply him, his paws were empty, but he'd tried his hardest and done his best and all that malarkey. Yellow eyes found their way to one portion of the camp and his body soon followed, moving as if he had belonged there all his life. 'Walk like you know what you're doing and no one will ever question you', sound advice from the one who'd left him near Ripple Colony land to begin with. Deacon hadn't had a single clue what he was doing since he joined forces with RiverClan, but if they were just as discombobulated as he was, well, he didn't think it'd take too long to test his father's lesson. Social faux pas and laws untaught, Deacon snatched a withered bird right up and flopped into the nearby elder bush to enjoy his meal. He took a large bite and ripped upwards, chewing flesh and feather alike. It didn't take long for someone to take notice with a death glare, Deacon's own eyes widened incredulously.

"What?" he asked between gracious chews. "Get your own you jealous git, I haven't eaten in days."

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[DOOMPAW]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXSome of the cats with RiverClan seem decidedly unClanlike, in Doompaw’s opinion. The tabby in question sits and gnaws on a bit of fresh-kill, but Doompaw had failed to see him bring in even a single piece of prey. Whatever. That’s for Blazestar and Twitchbolt and the like to worry about, not him. He could care less if these outsiders followed the rules—and truth be told, the only time Doompaw himself is concerned with those same codes is when his mentor is looking.

XXXXXThe tortoiseshell pads closer, sniffing suspiciously, and is met with blatant hostility. Doompaw’s face creases with anger. “What! Who ya callin’ a git, you git!” He eyes the skinny bird trapped between the tabby’s paws, his jaws slavering in response. “I don’t want anything the likes’ve you’ve been slobberin’ all over anyway!” He curls his lip, as if to prove a point.

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[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

They’ve only been in the pine forest for a mouthful of sunrises, and already Snakeblink can hear the sharp noise of voices rising in anger. No surprise there; hunger fuels irritation, and there’s enough of both going around.

Sheer nosiness has him slinking towards the sound curiously, but it’s his sense of responsibilities that makes him catch up to him at the sight of who those voices belong to — the apprentice he does not know, but the warrior currently tearing into prey is a Ripple colonist. A fellow Riverclan cat, now: he will have to get used to their new faces.

”Is everything alright here?” He asks mildly, throwing Deacon a narrow-eyed look. Not openly chiding, but thoughtful. Pointedly, he adds: ”I could have sworn I heard an apprentice complain of an empty stomach moments ago — I hope you thought to offer this prey to them before you sunk your teeth into it.”​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 45 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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[DEACON]

"You, ya git, I'm calling you the git!" He hissed, claws trapping the unearned prey like a cage. There had been a routine to the black tabby's hunts, always catch two fish so you can eat the first. Even if he had caught none today, the same mindset remained, and that 'first catch' was something he refused to share with anybody. His tail lashed behind him, surely he wouldn't have to beat up a child so he could finally finish a meal, would he? Doompaw turned his nose up immediately afterwards and Deacon's own nostrils flared, partly in relief that it seemed he didn't have to fight someone so young. "Good! Go bother someone else then, talking and eating in the same breath is a curse... or something." There must have been a lot of talking and eating in the same breath for his home to be so unlucky. 'These Tree-huggers are the shadiest bunch I've ever seen' had been the tabby's first thought, now, he just wondered if they were annoying. Content that the situation had pacified, Deacon craned her neck down to take another bite, barely giving himself time to taste the food.

Snakeblink approached and the black tabby lurched his head back like an apprentice prepared to receive a long lecture. He knew very little about his new home, other than their hierarchy, which had formed a fuzzy line in their mind. They were supposed to be respectful, 'supposed to be respectful' Deacon could manage, everything else would be a strain. A threat hung in the air, no, not a threat, a suggestion; the commotion could go away if he conformed and gave up his food (that he didn't catch in the first place, luckily, it seemed to be a moot point). "And what, you're shocked and disappointed I didn't give it to them? I'm an ex-rogue!" Was his protest, tone contorted further by a shrug of his shoulders and a lash of his tail. Authority had not been perfect in the Ripple Colony, the old cats had been reluctant to change until RiverClan came along, but he didn't know if he would've felt so much pressure to be something he was not. "Kid's probably been alive less time than the Colony's been struggling, they'll be fiiiiiiiine. Probably." There was a lot of catching up Deacon needed to do, some hungry apprentice? They'd have time to eat again if they worked for it.
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[Nettlepaw-]

NETTLEKIT ♂
RIVERCLAN
KITTEN
TWO MOONS
BIOGRAPHY AND TAGS
APPRENTICED TO NONE
PLAYED BY SHEOGORATH​

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He's hungry. Not starving, not yet. There wasn't enough prey to go around, it seemed. At the very least, SkyClan and RiverClan both made sure to keep the kits as well fed as possible. Nettlekit, though, is used to the bountiful prey of late greenleaf and early leaf-fall, before the plague and the rogues began to fester like an infected open wound. A scrap each day wasn't enough. He wanted more. And he was certain his den-mates did, too.

Of course, he smelled the ripped flesh and feathers, the scent of a bird carcass and those that surrounded it. Voices he recognized, Deacon, some rogue, and Snakeblink. Voices he didn't. Some SkyClan apprentice that Nettlekit couldn't care less about, though he supposed he had more respect for them than the former rogue that RiverClan had allowed in. Why should someone like that get to eat when there were hungry clan cats around? At least with all the voices, Nettlekit is able to pin-point the location with both scent and sound. He can even calculate the direction Deacon is facing, an important part of his plan as he slinks silently around the edge of camp, trying his best to stay out of view.

Closer, he draws, in what can only be assumed as a near natural hunter's crouch. It isn't perfect, but it isn't exactly sloppy, either. Nettlekit was determined, eager for the pounce, creeping behind Deacon and silently hoping that Snakeblink and the SkyClan apprentice will not say a word to the rogue when they spot him prowling. Now he's so close to the bird that another few steps forward, and Deacon would probably spot him in his peripheral. Nettlekit pauses, knowing that he must strike like a snake. Swift and decisive.

Now! He jumps, darting forward, snapping tooth and fang around clinging feathers. The bird's wing is clamped in his jaws and as quick as he arrived, Nettlekit jolts backwards to yank the bird away. Recalling how Apricotflower had helped him in learning SkyClan's camp, he takes off as quick as his little legs will carry him, sprinting toward the den that served as the nursery. The blind kit intended to share his prize, meat and feathers, with his RiverClan den-mates. Cats who actually deserved such a meal, not some rogue playing clan cat. Bah!

Of course, he would have to actually reach the nursery first. No small feat while he was carrying the bird in his mouth, perhaps with an angry ex-rogue chasing after him.
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