BREAKFAST FOR RUNNERS [open, stealing food]


Mischief Managed
Jun 8, 2022
The sun is rising, a morning haze of shimmering gold spreading between thorns to bathe the group's clearing. Wren is all too happy to leave his nest, stretching small claws into damp earth before darting between the legs of some adult returning from a seemingly failed hunt. He was hungry, and all too eager to find prey he could snatch from some unfortunate feline. So long as his mother was still asleep, he would have to fend for himself.

. Another member of the marsh group, settled down to chew upon a bumpy skinned toad. Wren trots closer, grinning brightly as he sticks to the sidelines to try and avoid being seen. The moment he's close enough to lunge though, he does. And the thrill of the potential chase is on. Wren snags his fangs into the toad and swipes it right from between the other's cat's paws, and then he takes off, sprinting full force across the clearing, as fast as his little legs could carry him, because only half of this venture was for food. The other half? Well that was just for fun. How else was he supposed to get his morning exercise in?​


The salivating she-cat settles down into a sitting position, the toad seated at her blue paws. The time for her to take her share of prey had come, and out from the fresh-kill pile she had plucked this "okay" looking toad. Her jaw opens as she leans down to get a bite of her prey, her teeth yearning to rip through its bumpy flesh.

But she's interrupted.
A child- Wren had swooped in last minute and picked up her toad. Before scolding sharp words could even leave her maw (which was quite impressive) the rascal is fleeing swiftly across the clearing. Oh... Soot was furious! Imaginary steam scorches out from her ears as she feels her face grow red with annoyance, scrambling onto her paws she is in pursuit after him. Soot was usually swift but... her belly of kits naturally slowed her down, making her run more of a fast paced waddle... An amusing sight, but best not anyone allow her to hear them laugh.

"Fox-dung, give me that back! You little-" Some unpleasant words spill from her maw out of agitation as she does her best to charge after the prey-theif.

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╰☆☆ Flicker is still doing her morning stretches when the thievery occurs. The burn in her muscles feels promising, reminding her that she's alive another day, young and strong another day. She blinks the sleep from her eyes, then rubs a black paw against each ball of flame for good measure. It was time to shake herself into some semblance of wakefulness.

Turns out, all she needed for an alarm was a flash of spiky brown tabby fur. Flicker's gaze widens as she tries to follow the mouse-quick kit. The brave little bugger darts right to the statuesque blue femme preparing to take a bite from her toad.

Flicker's jaw drops, but her astonished expression is quickly replaced with a gleeful one. "Ooh, you go Wren!" She waves her tail behind her. "Don't let her catch ya! She's faster than she looks! If you make it to me, I'll save ya... if you share!"

Of course, Flicker knows she's inviting Soot's ire as well, but her sleepiness has dissipated. She's awake and ready to tackle whatever weirdness happens.

Though she had begun to stir as Flicker stretched next to her, it was only for a moment. The molly had promptly rolled over to put her back to her younger friend and settled back in. Until the sun had finished rising, she had no business being awake. Anyone who had an issue with that policy could take it up with her contributions to the fresh kill pile.

Unfortunately, the clamor from outside the den struck her ears sharply. A cacophony that the dark tortie next to her lent her voice to.

With a click of her tongue, Moth rose. Albeit slowly. She dragged herself up next to Flicker and glared down at her through sleep-clouded eyes. "If your little deal brings all that commotion over here, then Soot's gonna have help retreving her kill." She muttered, just loud enough to be overheard.

As the words left her, she shot Wren a warning glance.
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He can hear Soot jostle up behind him, practically leaping from where she had been just about to dive into her now stolen meal to chase the kitten down with hurried paw-steps. There's a thrill glistening within his amber eyes, a smile plastered across his face as he heaves the toad along with his head held comically high. The venomous words spilled toward his retreating frame fills a youthful mind with mischievous glee. It only gets better when Flicker's encouragement rings out to spur in onward, and Wren swerves toward her, despite Moth's warning. Oh this was grand. Breakfast and a show of his own creation! He practically flings the toad at Flicker when he's close enough, because she had promised to share, and he could practically feel Soot's breath on his back.

"Don't let Moth give it back!" Wren snickered, darting around Flicker where, hopefully, Soot would not be able to reach him.​


By some miracle Soot had managed to catch up with Wren, just as she was about to close in the toad is sent flying from Wren's mouth to Flicker. The she-cat had promised the toad thief assistance, she didn't know if the ebony and orange molly thought this was a joke but Soot most certainly did not find this humorous.

"Give it back!" She hisses in warning at Flicker (assuming she has since taken hold of the toad). Moth too was at the scene, seeming to match the closest to Soot's thoughts about this. An ally in these trying times, she looks to the other she-cat momentarily with minor appreciation shining in her eyes. "If the toad isn't in my paws in the next five tail flicks someone is going to get their ear tufts ripped right off!"

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╰☆☆ Flicker had not forgotten her gray-pelted companion she'd been dozing beside. Moth has been woken by the commotion, and one glance at her face tells the tortoiseshell that she is not happy. "Soot's gonna have help retrieving her kill," she mutters.

"Why, you don't want some too?" She elbows the gray molly gently. "No worries, she won't--"

Wren's toad flies from his mouth to her paws. She hadn't really expected that, but she supposes they're playing a different sort of game now. Flicker lowers her head and latches onto the saliva-covered morsel.

She's chuckling around her mouthful when she catches the look on Soot's face. Uh oh. The blue queen stalks towards her, warning her that if the toad isn't returned to her in five tail flicks then she'll do.... something.

Flicker doesn't waste any time. She gives Moth a look that is meant to communicate that she is sorry and she'll make it up to her later. But she's gotta run. "Hah! Good luck catching me with a belly full of babies, Soot!" Her words are muffled by the toad in her mouth, but she's cackling, gleeful. She dances in place before lunging to her left. Soot might really mean it, but she can't help herself. She does intend to give it back... probably.
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− ♱ ABOUT : dew studded long, wicked blades of grass, the frost of morning settling heavy over the marshlands and bringing a crisp, fresh scent with it. cicada had awoken early, as was per usual — awoken by the sound of songbird rattling off tauntingly close to his moss - lined nest. insomnia was chronic, sleep a beast he chases nightly, slipping just out of reach before the break of dawn anyway. the faint chittering of avian alone was enough to shake him out of his admittedly light slumber, but he was tired. sore, hungry. hed remained curled, listening to the wildlife just beyond camp.

until the commotion started.

he pulls himself into a seated position, stretching thin shoulders back before arching up, winging the sleep from his aging bones. with a yawn, cicada would settle, offering nothing but a low, honey-thick chuckle ; from the void just beneath rotting, water - logged pine revealing nothing but icecap luminaries until he strides slow from the shadows. soft, somewhat muffled laughter — the press of a paw to smiling contours, a haphazard attempt to stifle the laughter that threatens to bubble dangerously in his throat. soot seemed nearly ready to lose her top, helplessly outnumbered by mischievous children and cicada, well . . sharp eyes dart towards the scrawny, slick - skinned frog. they hadn't torn into the thing yet. so long as the youth gave it back, maybe he could diffuse the boiling blue smoke.

the warrior clears his throat.

oh, i wouldn't take a bite of that, if i were you. not after the last kit who stole from his seniors.” begins he, settling down neatly to wrap plume - like tail over snow studded paws. his expression darkens, head tipping forward and brow furrowing into an expression of dramaticized anguish, “ they say it came back to life in his stomach, and hopped right up and out of his throat that very night! horrible thing, really. gruesome. “ cicada heaves a sigh, leaning just slightly to the left in the picture of sorrow, placing a paw gently over his stomach to accentuate his story. it was tall tale, one his mother used to tell him during youth — only a little story, to spook them into behaving. perhaps he didn’t need to be so dramatic about it.