T
twilightpaw
Guest
BUT MY PLANS ALWAYS CHANGING ⋆⁺₊⋆
Flakes of snow dot Twilightpaw's pelt, piling up along his back, and the more cold he gets the harder it is to convince himself to stay out here on this fruitless search. If he were back at camp right now, sure it wouldn't be warm, but at least he could duck beneath some cover to avoid the worst of the snow. As it is, he's probably not even going to find anything; all the prey's hidden away from the snow right now, if they're smart, unlike him. The hunger gnawing at his belly and the knowledge that he had come back empty-pawed yesterday, too, spur him onwards, however. While not the best at hunting, he knows he can at least do better than that. Besides, being out here alone is familiar, if not comforting - the past few moons he's spent quite a bit of time exploring Shadowclan's territory, aimlessly wandering past every nook and cranny, and in a way the silence feels soothing. Though interacting with his clanmates recently has felt like less of a chore, it still reminds him of the ache in his chest, the loss of normalcy, which is something that Twilightpaw doesn't know how to fix, and so he finds his retreat while hunting solo, with only his own thoughts to plague him.
Giving up now really just means going back to camp to do nothing, and at least continuing the hunt (or, more accurately at this point, the walk) comes with doing something, even if it's just shaking snow from his fur between thoughts. As he passes beneath a scrubby tree, even more snow is suddenly raining down on him, the sparse branches having lost their battle to hold up the flakes. His chocolate pelt is quickly blotted out by the white, and for a moment Twilightpaw simply stands there, blinking snow from his vision. Of course the snow would happen to fall right as he's passing beneath the tree; that's just his luck these days, it seems. As the apprentice begins to shake snow free from his pelt, a few flakes find their way atop his nose, and he can't help but let out a sneeze at the tickling sensation. The sneeze is just enough to knock the rest of the snow from off of him, and as he surveys the pile that's built up around his paws he notices a slight movement. Frowning, he swipe a paw over the snow, attempting to clear it aside, and to his delight, buried beneath the snow is a frog, rendered useless by the cold - scrawny, sure, but a frog nonetheless. One paw renders it fresh-kill, and Twilightpaw bends to snatch it up. It hadn't been the most conventional find, but prey is prey, especially in leaf-bare, and he's certainly not going to complain.
// @PITCHSTAR
Flakes of snow dot Twilightpaw's pelt, piling up along his back, and the more cold he gets the harder it is to convince himself to stay out here on this fruitless search. If he were back at camp right now, sure it wouldn't be warm, but at least he could duck beneath some cover to avoid the worst of the snow. As it is, he's probably not even going to find anything; all the prey's hidden away from the snow right now, if they're smart, unlike him. The hunger gnawing at his belly and the knowledge that he had come back empty-pawed yesterday, too, spur him onwards, however. While not the best at hunting, he knows he can at least do better than that. Besides, being out here alone is familiar, if not comforting - the past few moons he's spent quite a bit of time exploring Shadowclan's territory, aimlessly wandering past every nook and cranny, and in a way the silence feels soothing. Though interacting with his clanmates recently has felt like less of a chore, it still reminds him of the ache in his chest, the loss of normalcy, which is something that Twilightpaw doesn't know how to fix, and so he finds his retreat while hunting solo, with only his own thoughts to plague him.
Giving up now really just means going back to camp to do nothing, and at least continuing the hunt (or, more accurately at this point, the walk) comes with doing something, even if it's just shaking snow from his fur between thoughts. As he passes beneath a scrubby tree, even more snow is suddenly raining down on him, the sparse branches having lost their battle to hold up the flakes. His chocolate pelt is quickly blotted out by the white, and for a moment Twilightpaw simply stands there, blinking snow from his vision. Of course the snow would happen to fall right as he's passing beneath the tree; that's just his luck these days, it seems. As the apprentice begins to shake snow free from his pelt, a few flakes find their way atop his nose, and he can't help but let out a sneeze at the tickling sensation. The sneeze is just enough to knock the rest of the snow from off of him, and as he surveys the pile that's built up around his paws he notices a slight movement. Frowning, he swipe a paw over the snow, attempting to clear it aside, and to his delight, buried beneath the snow is a frog, rendered useless by the cold - scrawny, sure, but a frog nonetheless. One paw renders it fresh-kill, and Twilightpaw bends to snatch it up. It hadn't been the most conventional find, but prey is prey, especially in leaf-bare, and he's certainly not going to complain.
// @PITCHSTAR
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