pafp bird-brained &. crow chase

[CICADASTAR]

he didn’t like birds. they were called foul for a reason, he believed — vile, feathered creatures, all beak and tough, stringy meat. the chill had made them scarce about the riverlands, but as the days continued to warm the skies begin to fill again. the river.. was taking more time to thaw. so here he was, crouched along the swaying reed with @Cindershade somewhere near. before him, a single crow. it pecks lazily at the ground, recent rain budding worms to the pebbled dirt surface — the season of giving, and not just to them. claws flex against the dew - studded grass, thin shoulders shifting as he gets ready to make his leap, and.. he gets a mouthful of black feathers and the thing squawks, parts it’s thorn - like beak to scream at him and if he weren’t still recovering from the horrors of leafbare, he’d have let it go in abject horror. skyclan survived on these things, picked past the wings that stick the roof of his mouth and to the meat underneath. they liked this.

he, however, feels it flail wildly in his teeth before he thinks to finally clamp his jaws down, breaking its thin neck. the creature goes limp in an instant, oil - black wings flopping to either side of its lean body as he straightens, lifts his head to look for familiar dark rosettes amidst the clearing, “ hah! “ victorious, he lifts his chin, presents the dead bird with teeth grinning around its edges as he slinks towards her, “ thank starclan for newleaf — birds are idiots, ja? “ easy prey, when distracted enough. it’s no wonder, their brains must be the size of frog eggs and twice as empty. he huffs around the bird still clasped tight in his jaws, hot blood dripping into the corners of his maw before dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. it was no fish, but it would feed someone, he hoped. land prey had never been to his taste, aside from the occasional lizard and frog during his time over the marshes. now, though — he’d tasted the delicacy of trout, of minnow, the freshness that came with it. the sleek shine of fresh - caught scale, black, beady eyes to pop between sharp molars.

feathers fall, billowing around pale white paws, “ i don’t see how.. “ was the sky darkening? blots of black flurry overhead and he squints at it, tongue lolling from his mouth to spit the last of the creatures coat to the ground, “ anyone.. eats… they seem awfully close, don’t they? “ his line of thought drops as they loom towards the ground despite the evident thread, and keep.. getting closer. it’s only when they begin to drop beneath the treeline does he realize something is very wrong, ” oh — we should GO. GO! “ frantic steps back as they swoop down, cawing wildly, beaks aimed at the thin membrane of his ears and he is running. shit. shit! god, he hated birds!

− ♱ information out of character ⟐ visual reference translated ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
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• none.

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[Cindershade]

With Leaf-Bare fading gradually into the past, New-Leaf brought new life with it. All new life. The icy river had finally melted back into it's ever-flowing form, it's roaring and ferocity even more powerful than before an excess water flowed alongside it. The air feels warm, with a brisk chill even with sunlit rays aiming from high above. Cindershade had accompanied Cicadastar for a lowly hunt, finding whatever they could for their clan to bring home. She had circled to the left of the river whilst the looming phantom of her leader remained by river reeds in search for whatever was around. Her dusted nose cranes slightly to the breeze, picking up the fresh scent of vole and—crow. Sizeable avians with slick obsidian feathers like her own patterned pelt. Cindershade didn't particularly go looking for such a creature to hunt, as they were not her forte. Like Cicadastar, she much rather taste the freshness of fish—the taste of the river with shining scales of different colors.
But food was food, and they would take anything they could to nourish the bellies of elders and queens, of warriors and apprentices. The delicate scent of vole touches her tongue and she crouches, thick muscled coiled and rippling under a rosetted pelt. A panther within her own jungle as she glides over foliage and pebbles on lightly splayed footsteps. It meddles within the roots of the shrubs, nibbling on seeds and unaware of her presence. Her next actions are swift and silent, leaping upon her prey and giving it a quick kill bite to its nape. Tawny brown fur hang limply within her own jaws, a look of triumph sparkling within chartreuse eyes as she strides across the clearing to meet with her leader. Hah! Birds are idiots, ja? Velveteen ears craned towards his voice as he appears with a large crow in his own jaws. Cindershade raises a brow before dropping her own kill. "Hm. Some birds most definitely. But—I've heard crows are exceptionally intelligent." It was true, back when she was young, her mother had told her a story about how crows could hold grudges and remember faces. They were fiercely protective over their flock and territories.
He continues on their conversation, though his crystalline gaze is focused upon the sky. Brows pinch themselves over her eyes, following his line of sight to a dark entanglement of fluttering shadowed wing beats and nuisance cawing. They certainly were getting closer to them, weren't they? The molly's ears automatically slop against the back of her cranium, taking a defensive posture over her own prey. "They wouldn't be—oh, Stars. Cada—" Go. GO! His booming accented voice pierces the air as shadows swoop among them. The vole is snatched up in between her jaws and she's running alongside the tortoiseshell. Her own ears are being pecked, nipped at, and the nape of her neck is getting grasped from thorn-like talons. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! "We find to find cover somewhere!" The warrior screeches, her voice barely heard over the plethora of squawking between their sprinting forms. There were hardly any trees to cover over head, nothing but the Beech trees near camp. Small scrapes along her head burn as they grasp at her and the tom. Why did she find herself in these predicaments? She pivots hard to the right, daring to look back and see if he followed close behind her. Maybe—maybe seeing more cats would deem too much of a challenge for them and they'd flee. "To the Beech Copse!"
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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[CRAPPIEPATCH]

Crappiepaw rests on their favorite spot, a nice beech tree with branches high enough to see out across a wide swath of the land around it. Plus, it is a decent challenge to get up to their chosen branch, making It less likely that any clanmates will bother them. They had heard the voice of their mentor not too long ago, calling for them—but they feel a bit light-headed today, so they should rest instead of training with that walnut-brain.

A series of shouts catches their attention, and sharp green eyes catch the issue quickly. In the distance, they spot the dappled form of their leader, alongside a cat whose very presence is the absence of light. Cindershade. And behind them—oh. The sky is filled with screeching, with the beating of dark wings. It looks a bit like a storm, if storms were made up of dozens of wrathful, squawking creatures.

They worry for a moment about their own safety, up in the tree as they are, but it is unlikely that the birds will even spot them up here. Their targets are on the ground, so that is where the crows’ focus will be. Clearing their throat, the calico apprentice lifts their head in an attempt to help their voice carry. "Run faster," they shout out to the two, their dry words punctuated by a sniffle.
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[ FORTUNE LOVES THE BOLD ]​

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[RAVENSONG]

Ravenpaw pulled his body along, haunches bent in a clumsy hunting crouch. His ears were flicked forward and eyes wide as he tracked the mouse nibbling at a fresh stem only a fox length away from him. The apprentice had such rotten luck fishing that his skills were better suited to land prey.

Newleaf brought back the feathery creatures, and Ravenpaw enjoyed their presence. He envied their ability to fly and they were the only prey to make noises that he could say he enjoyed. The silent winter had been unbearable. If there was one thing he was glad about, at least it felt like the earth was alive again.

Suddenly, squawking fills the air and Ravenpaw's mouse immediately darts for cover. Ravenpaw gasped and leapt forward, but the creature slipped past his claws. He turned his head back, seeing an entire group of his namesake's cousin swarm the air like a horde of bees. Ravenpaw had always liked crows and ravens. There was a clear connection and he did not think they were unintelligent. However, he would be wary of such a horde—unlike anything he had seen or heard before. The screeches bounced around in his head, shaking his brain.

Ravenpaw's ears went flat against his head, scooting backward into some brush by the beach copse. He squinted and saw the dark pelts of Cicadastar and Cindershade shouting and running toward their position, then Crappiepaw's quip.

"What did you do?" He shouted, paws digging into the ground.

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