camp chilled to the bone ❀༉˖° hibernating?

PEONYBREEZE

OH, I WAS DOING SO WELL
May 19, 2023
75
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❀༉˖° Peonypaw had a theory.

It was not often he allowed himself to indulge in... what could be called silly ideas - and maybe on a more somber, serious day, he'd tell himself all the same. Perhaps the tension in camp was getting to him, the tension that had been so thick you could cut it up with your claw into tiny little pieces and maybe have it for breakfast. It didn't really matter. He just wanted to test something out.

His nimble paws were working fast but they were precise. Moons upon moons of tunneler training meant the soft snow meant little challenge for him, especially when he had a goal in mind. Tiny snowflakes were falling still and getting caught in his short fur, but it was a tiny amount compared to what was already gathering nicely on the ground of the moors.

By the time he was finished with his task, he had dug enough of a dip that his hind legs that he used for balance were higher up than his head and front limbs. It was time- he climbed in, curled into a loafing position, and waited.

"Hmm." Unsatisfactory.

His paws shot out from underneath him to shovel a bit more snow closer to himself like he was trying to get buried. Then, he settled into a more comfortable position, and...

He wasn't freezing. It was comfortable. Whatever warrior he had heard utter something about specific animals using the snow for a warm nest - ironically enough - was right. This very well might have been a better alternative for someone so easily cold like himself in this leafbare.
°
 


Quick steps carried Rattleheart into camp, shaking the last clinging bits of dirt and snow from his pelt as he carried a fluffy hare in his jaws, depositing it into the freshkill pile with a sigh. He was glad for the catch, but leafbare had barely begun and it was already showing off the worst effects on the territory that it had to offer. Prey would become more and more scarce for the moor runners running around over the tunnels - a shame, considering it was the only season where his pelt could really blend in, even if only partially.

His muzzle cracked open when he noticed Peonypaw's scent nearby, intent on asking his apprentice if he would be interested in some more training. When he cast a glance around camp though, he found himself unable to spot where the younger tunneler actually was. "Peonypaw...? Has anyone seen Peonypaw?" With confusion still clearly written on his face, Rattleheart turned and followed the scent of the other, pausing as he noticed the shifted little den of snow that the other had created. "Oh, I... hello. Is that comfortable?" There was genuine curiosity in his words, wondering if Peonypaw was feeling more comfortable buried beneath the surprising warmth of the snow gathered around them. In spite of living in Windclan for quite a while, he had never actually tried creating a snow den of his own.

Not moving far from where he had found Peonypaw, Rattleheart turned and began to shift the snow around himself, shoving at it with his paws and forming up walls in a similar fashion to what he had shown his apprentice in the past. His "nest" wasn't nearly as carefully constructed as the point's, but it wouldn't crumble apart at the lightest touch, either. As he dipped down inside his own nest nearby to Peony, a surprised and pleased purr rumbled up from his throat. "Oh! This is much warmer than I was expecting..." It felt even better than just laying in his nest underneath the stars normally.
[ PENNED BY EO ]
 
Ugh, snow. Gravelsnap hates the cold to begin with, and flakes of it clinging to their pelt, to their whiskers, only serves to make them more annoyed with the winter weather. Their paws sink into snow as they walk—and seeing Peonypaw and Rattleheart gleefully digging in it, voluntarily spending time amidst it, draws a frown across their muzzle. "That looks frigid," they comment, nose wrinkling in distaste. Why are the tunnelers lounging in the snow as though it’s a nest? Utterly ridiculous. Rattleheart comments that it’s warmer than he’d expected, and a scarred brow lifts in disbelief. He’s joking, he must be. Gravelsnap remembers the last winter that they’d lived through, the first one, and the snow was in no way warm. "Your paws and tails are going to freeze off if you lie there much longer." Of course, they don’t know this for fact, but it seems a reasonable enough conclusion to draw.
[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]
 

❀༉˖° Amusement lined Peonypaw's face as he heard his mentor call out for him. What timing - she would either stumble upon the dip in the ground (hopefully without falling in and right on top of him), or decide that he was out and about and call it a day. He kept his body still as he craned his head to peer up at Rattleheart with owlish eyes, a sharp contrast to the usually narrowed ones.

"Surprisingly," he assured Rattleheart, and was secretly delighted to find she intended to try his method as well.

With them moving away to create their own snow nest and with Peonypaw being under ground level, it was impossible to see her, but he continued conversing with her nevertheless. "Might be a better alternative to sleeping out in the open during leaf-bare." A part of him disliked the idea from the get-go, so used to sleeping that way, but he couldn't ignore his own body's needs. The colder it became, the more likely it was for his whiskers to freeze right off.

Peonypaw was surprised he gained even more of an audience. He had made sure to keep out from the usual paths his Clanmates traveled as to not get in their way, but he supposed not one but two carved out nests would be interesting enough to investigate.

"It looks worse than it is," Peonypaw exlained to Gravelsnap. "Keeps you warmer this way. Want to try? I'll dig one out for you." A ghost of a smile tugged at his maw; it was meant as a joke. Not in a million years would a moor runner agree to that, and he knew.
°
 
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