CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS [ intro + rogue trouble ]

[mothmoon]

( ✧ ) a cold breeze ruffles the long grasses of the moor, cloudy sky casting shade across the territory as the woman stalks along the far border of her clan. beyond, a thunderpath sits suspiciously silent for the time of day, and, on the other side, shorter grass trails off into the distance towards highstones. the feline is not focused on these things though, and she barely gives the border a second book as she moves along it, head raised and nose twitching. her luck today has not been great, but she is a windclan warrior- she will find prey for her clan. even if yellowcough is devastating the clan's hunters, even if leaf-fall is drying the moors and sending the prey underground, there is no excuse to come back empty jawed. she shutters slightly as an unusually chilly wind passes through her fur.

dark amber eyes scan the horizon, lip curling as she recognizes rainclouds moving slowly towards her home, beckoning a gloomy atmosphere not aided by her own frustration. mothmoon closes her eyes, murmurs low under her breath, addressing the stars. starclan, please aid me with food and health for my clan. she prays, and squares her shoulders once more. whiskers twitch as she finally catches a scent and follows the scrawny shape of the rabbit with her gaze. thank you, stars, she'll think before springing up, light on her paws. dainty pawsteps carry her towards the pale brown shape on the edge of the territory. she drops into her crouch, her mentor's voice ringing in her ears as it always does when hunting. low, shoulders square, tail flat. muscles ripple under skin, and mothmoon streaks off, easily approaching the rabbit and scooping it up, breaking its neck easily. a purr rumbles in the warrior's throat as she drops her prey, satisfaction warming her chest.

the pale snow and earthen head turning, she drops her prey in a shallow hole in the earth and pads away, scenting for more food. it is only when an unfamiliar scent catches her attention that she whips around, coming face to face with a pale brown tabby stranger. scars litter the tabby's face and baleful yellow eyes alight with hostility. "intruder!" the young warrior will yowl, fur spiking as she puffs up to defend her territory. the tabby rogue has their dirty paws on her rabbit, a sneer decorating their face. "hush, pretty kitty. i'll be tasking this off your paws," the tabby rumbles.

mothmoon splutters, long legs reaching out to snatch the rabbit back towards her, but she is too late, as the rogue scoops the prey into their mouth. anger ripples up moth's spine and she scoffs, tail lashing. "drop my prey, you fox-hearted maggot-brain! or i'll..." she bares her teeth and the tabby turns tail and dashes away. her paws dig into the earth, spraying sand behind her as she gives chase, lashing out with hooked claws to grab at the rogues flank and tail. she feels hot blood spill over her pale paws, earthen fur stuck under her claws, but the rogue has already fled past the border. she chases for a few moments more, snarling with anger and embarrassment. "fox-heart! dirty rogue!" how could she, great warrior of windclan, be fooled by a mere rogue? but the tabby has vanished, and with them, her rabbit. the pretty molly turns from her chase and trots back into windclan territory, blood spattered on her front paws, a sour look on her face. the next rabbit she catches she will hold on to for dear life, and she'll kill the next trespasser she sees.

// intro-ing this gal w a fun lil trespassing situation! ​

 

[VIOLETHEART]

Just as Mothmoon does, before heading out Violetheart had prayed to StarClan for a fruitful hunt. It seemed that in these eventful times, he found himself praying to StarClan for a great number of things, and he could only hold onto the faith that they would hear his, and undoubtedly many others', calls and send forth help in some tangible way. The ancestors worked in mysterious ways, this Violetheart knew, and for all his piety he wished that sometimes they worked more clearly than they did.
Violetheart was coming up on the WindClan border when he caught the scent of a Clanmate, and an unfamiliar scent as well, something that was becoming worryingly common, he'd noticed. The last thing that WindClan needed was the presence of rogues trying to encroach on their territory for prey that was already in demand. He fixes Mothmoon with a look of concern as she comes into sight.
"Another rogue?" He questioned with a sigh. Apparently the saying speak of the devil also went for thoughts of it as well - though Violetheart wasn't foolish enough to believe that he'd jinxed the situation. It was simply coincidence, as undesirable as it was. "You're not hurt, are you? I assume that blood isn't yours." Violetheart nods towards Mothmoon's paws.​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

Having long since dried his tears and gotten back onto his paws, there is nothing reminiscent of grief or immense sadness that stains Snakehiss's features aside from exhausted, heavy-set eyes that rested in his skull. They were dull, strained from an outpouring of tears for his mother's passing, but glazed over with apathy in a sense. He was to keep pressing on, doing his duties for the clan in spite of the death and misfortune that plagued WindClan — it is what Mother would have wanted, after all.

It seemed that the moorland borders needed more frequent marking, as troubles with rogues seemed to be on the rise for the past few days. Snakehiss had yet to encounter one of those barbaric creatures, and frankly, he didn't know what he'd do if he did. He was confident that he could hold his own in a fight, but what if he ran into a particularly nasty-looking, mean, and oversized cat who could crush him under their paw? What if there were multiple, even?

A ruckus erupts nearby, which prompts Snakehiss to duck down as much as he can in order for the grasses to shelter his form. He angles his ears and proceeds with caution, wanting to know exactly what he's walking into before engaging. There is an unfamiliar scent stinking in the vicinity, though Snakehiss can only make out what appears to be the aftermath of a skirmish of sorts. "Wherever they are coming from, they're growing more bold by the day." The young moor runner meows, glancing from Mothmoon to Violetheart, and then back to Mothmoon. Her claws are splashed with crimson. For what reason were the rogues becoming more aggressive? "Sootstar should be informed of this." The Moor Queen was likely still shut out from the outside world in response to the passing of Weaselclaw, but she was the leader first and foremost. She had to know about these situations and deal with them.

✰ INFO

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  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; warrior ( moor runner ) of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

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[mothmoon]

( ✧ ) her clanmates arrive as she had expected them to, drawn in by the ruckus she had just caused. mothmoon thinks briefly of apologizing for the noise but decides against it. she had been defending her territory- she had every right to make as much noise as she wanted. the she-cat draws her pink tongue across her claws, gently washing out the spots of blood from the trespassing rogue. "damned rogue stole my prey. he called me 'pretty kitty!' and, you know, he was right, but i don't want to hear that from a nasty trespasser!" the young moor-runner complains, heaving a sigh. "no, i managed to get a couple scratches in when he was fleeing, but the maggot-brain vanished before i could really go at him."

snakehiss approaches, grumbling about the reappearing rogues. mothmoon curls her lip in agreement. "i can't help but wonder if they know we've sent some cats away," she ponders, setting her paw down, now pristine and free from russet stains. "she should, yes. this will become a bigger issue if we don't nip it in the bud." a soft sigh leaves her lungs as she thinks of the moor queen, absent and withdrawn from clan life. the death of weaselclaw had hit sootstar hard. mothmoon has faith in her leader, knows sootstar would not let her clan down. ​

 

[breezerunner]

Breezerunner, similar to the others who have come to Mothmoon's aid, had been drawn in by the unfamiliar scent caught up by the wind and the moor-runner's cry of 'intruder!' He'd come running across the even grasses and hills, hoping to not skitter onto another scene of tragedy. He's relieved when he finds that the warrior seems visibly unharmed and mostly just annoyed. His own hunger piques another annoyance: all of them are empty-handed of prey.

"Of course they know," Breezerunner mutters in response to Mothmoon's musing as to whether or not the rouges know their numbers have thinner "SkyClan probably told them." He doesn't elaborate, but what he means is fairly obvious: SkyClan fraternizes with kittypets and rouges. They're too stupid to keep vulnerability under wraps, and it's their fault that every clan now suffers from yellowcough.

Breezerunner nods in agreement with Snakehiss's sentiment, but he doesn't have much else to add. He feels that they should be sending out more frequent border patrols- an attempt to chase off intruders and thieves- but it isn't just place to suggest. And this isn't nearly the ideal audience to make such a suggestion.
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