private BED BUGS IN MY MIND | wildwhistle

[downyfur]

Downyfur squints at the dim sky. Fat snowflakes are beginning to drift from its heavy, gray belly, spattering the dried grass and their little patrol's coats. They glance up at their companion, concern digging harsh furrows into their soft face. "It's snowing," she remarks. The little tunneler watches the wind tousle Wildwhistle's fur, silvery strands lashing around verdant eyes like a forest caught in the eye of a hurricane. The wind's really picking up. They must look just as disheveled, or rapidly becoming so.

Downyfur carefully holds her sigh in. She'd hoped to find some prey out here, and barring that some nesting materials for Bluefrost and Thriftfeather, but the snow would bury all of it at the rate it's falling. "We should find shelter." They close their eyes, tracing the tunnel paths through their mind, but quickly open them upon remembering they're not in the tunnels. "We were heading towards RiverClan, right? The old badger sett should be around here..." She glances around, squinting through the falling snow. "Um, and if we can't find it, I can try and find a big enough tunnel for you," they think aloud, momentarily oblivious to any discomfort the taller cat might have.

@WILDWHISTLE ​

 

[WILDWHISTLE]

this expedition of theirs began on a quiet morning, blue skies barren of any incoming snow, as if holding its breath in the middle of winter. in hindsight, wildwhistle would think, this was a betrayal of trust — never rely on the weather to remain stagnant in such conditions as these. it was upon a quick glance at the heavens that sealed their answer to tagging along to downyfur's patrol — although, if the moor runner was being honest, they were itching for an excuse out of camp — but truly none can predict how leafbare would go. they wouldn't be out too long. a quiet reassurance to herself as the duo pressed forward over the grand landscape of windclan's territory in search of prey, whatever slipped through the moors.

it's snowing. narrowed eyes would meet the tunneler's glance before they casted a glimpse of the sky, once a bright horizon now a canvas of mottled gray and white, a snowstorm billowing forth. "ugh, of course it would begin again when we're outside." she muses aloud, irritation creeping into her tone. no longer were the warriors fortuitous in their plan of hunting today, instead they would have to curl up elsewhere to wait it out, and surely so will everything else. already downyfur was grasping onto a plan of action, resourceful as the cat was, but wildwhistle's eyes widened as they continued on. 'badger sett', what downy first proposes, is enough for the silver tabby to let out a loud shiver that seemed to violently wrack their body — they will blame the cold. truly what settled in the mind of tunnelers for them to retreat there as a means of transportation? the earth is unkind .. what dark, eternal tunnels that lay beneath the moors weren't worth traversing through. what if, starclan forbid, there was a badger lying in wait for two unsuspecting cats to slip in? or what if it collapsed and trapped them beneath the weight of the snow? what then! unless downyfur was joking? 'a big enough tunnel for you' .. wild's head would hang a bit in disappointment, there was no hint of sarcasm in her clanmate's tone. she was doomed.

downy's musings had come to a stop and it dawned on the moor runner that they hadn't responded to her, so caught up in their own head. a flick of a feathered ear, wildwhistle would beam at the pointed cat with a nervous smile. "maybe the badger still lives there, downyfur .. unless you want to find out ?" she would say, hoping against hope that they didn't. "you know what ! surely the snow will lighten up soon" — she's unconvinced of herself — "we can wait it out on a hill or something, yeah?"

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