fey wanderer
Jul 24, 2022

There sure are a lot of boingy things around this clan. ShadowClan’s marshy territory is rather unpleasant to traverse, she thinks, with the ground soft enough in some places that her paws get sucked into the mud. And the brown that stains her mostly-white pelt takes forever to clean out. So she remains in camp when she has the choice, although she has become very interested in the big, brown, lumpy boingy things that croak and screech just outside of the confines of camp in the nighttime hours.

Luckily, the croaky things aren’t the only boingy creatures around the marsh. There are smaller, more scream-y ones, too, and they aren’t smart enough to stay far away from the group of cats gathered inside the camp. Daffodil still startles when one of the small bugs hops right in her path, but she’s prepared for it this time. A squeak and a shuffle are heard as she gets into position, and then her paws are closing around the boingy thing and teeth catch in its crunchy shell.

It doesn’t taste good, but she caught it! She’s managed to catch something! "Look," she states as she presents her “catch” to the nearest clanmate. Pride fills every inch of her small body, and too-large paws nearly trio over themselves with the excitement that radiates from her. "Got prey!" Then she drops the grasshopper at the paws of the other ShadowClanner, tail flicking eagerly. "I’m helping."
you're a sour little boy

Shrouded Night wasn’t a part of the original group that formed into Shadowclan. He had joined just before borders were closed. The feline understood why the decision was made. He didn’t trust many cats either. But he was learning to live with the group and get better at teamwork. Night was a hard worker but he wasn’t the best cat to hang out with. He was often grumpy and didn’t take to most conversations.

His eyes glared down at the kit and their ‘prey’. Shrouded Night wasn’t actively trying to look annoyed. It was how his face was. His ear twitched at the sound of them claiming to help. How was catching a puny bug helping? They were just a kit. Did they even understand the world around them yet? Shrouded Night grumbled, biting back harsh words and pushing out something more acceptable. “That’s… nice.”
Ghost thought Daffodil's pounce was really good. He couldn't pounce like that... He just wished she hadn't crunched through it. The hopper wasn't doing anything bad, he doesn't think. Shrouded Night looks angry as she shows it to him, and Ghost didn't know if he could blame him. Ghost tries to mimic the tom's expression, all growly with furrowed brows. Ghost doesn't know how to make that face. The closest he can get to it is his squint, unblinking eyes just a little less wide. "That... s'not..." the kit shakes his head. "Bugs aren't food... my mama told me so."

She regrets this. She shouldn’t have approached this big cat, this stranger who glares down upon her as she drops the bug at his paws. He looks so unhappy with her that Daffodil has to fight back the tears that suddenly prick at her eyes. He doesn’t sound nice either. "Scary," she murmurs, letting her gaze drop to her paws. She doesn’t even thank him, because she’s too busy trying not to tremble out of her fur. Luckily, she’s rescued by another kit who looks… annoyed? She can’t tell whether he’s trying to stare into her soul or shut his eyes completely.

The other kit says that their mama doesn’t think bugs are food, and Daffodil ignores the sting of envy that she feels. At least Ghost still has a mama. She bites her tongue. But she shakes her head in return, reaching out to bat gently at the boingy thing with a paw. "Food is food." In the place where she was born, anything that could be eaten was food. They hadn’t the luxury of choice, of fresh prey, because anything living was already chewed up by the rats. "What do you eat?" She questions the pink-eyed child with a curious tilt of her head; perhaps he has more input on what she should be catching.
A laugh rumbles in Pitch's chest as he watches Daffodil spring after a grasshopper, eyes crinkling around his smile. But the amusement quickly morphs into something bittersweet; memories of him and his siblings chasing after bugs, showing off the invertebrates that they caught to their parents and glowing with pride at the praise Briarstar and Amber offered. Pessimism clouds his mind until all he could focus on is the bitterness, a sting of envy piercing his heart at the innocence of the children. He wants that back. He wants his dad back.

"She's right; food is food," exclaims the rosette tabby, striding over to the miniature huntress' side. "Have you ever tried a grasshopper, Ghost?" Maybe a part of him is using this as an opportunity to take a jealous jab at the albino kit, as petty as that may seem. But Pitch has tried bugs before, and he sees no issue with eating them. Some of them are quite tasty.
The kit watches as Daffodil leaps, landing her first ever catch. Wait, she actually did it. She feels an inkling of jealousy rise within her, and a deep regret of not scaring her into missing the grasshopper. As much as she wouldn't say it aloud, she wants to have the same level of skill as the other. Trying to collect her thoughts, she trots over, intently watching the still bug. "Crunchy," she assigns to the prey. It didn't look appealing, all crunch with no meat.

But it was an impressive feat nonetheless, she knows she's tried to catch bugs and rarely did so on the first try. At Pitch's question, though not angled at her, she remarks firmly, "Worms are better." Not as brittle.
'Food is food, Daffodil says. Ghost shakes his head. But it's not food... That's what he's saying. He pauses, though, when she asks what Ghost eats. He doesn't remember.

Pitch is here, he's a bully. Ghost squirms under his gaze, lips pressed in a line. Wide eyes lower into something more squint-y. "Y-yyess...." he admits, voice wavering strangely with his confession. "An I got in trouble... Bugs are... friends" he adds, shuffling in place.

He sniffs at Ashkit. Why did all of - of Briar's family like to chew on buggies? Did Briar chew on buggies? Surely the leader couldn't be... be making enemies like that. His eyes squeeze open and shut, perplexed. "Worms are slimy," he says, as if Ashkit didn't know that already. Wasn't that weird? Squirming in your throat? "Does it tickle...?"


Siltkit watches in quiet interest as Daffodil brings back a bug, sticking to the sidelines despite her curiosity. She doesn't feel much like socializing - she never does, really, and today is no different. A debate has begun about whether bugs are food or not, and she silently finds herself agreeing with ghost - bugs are squishy and crunchy and bitter and nasty, so she's pretty sure they are not-food just like dirt and rocks and sticks. She doesnt say anything though, content to simply watch the other kits argue with the warriors.