COMRADES [ smogmaw ]

[FERNDANCE]

It was her second time venturing out into the territory today. The first time had been an enlightening experience with Chilledgaze, but a pleasant conversation and discovery of a strange two-leg object had not resulted in any food being brought back to the clan. They'd long since breached a point of desperation, with clanmates ending up seriously sick or worse, and if providing for her home meant enduring achy paws as she traversed difficult terrain, then she'd endure the discomfort for as long as was needed. It was already getting alarmingly easy to ignore the hunger pangs as she prowled onwards, her ribs visibly shifting with each careful prance through the slush. Mud soaked the lower half of Ferndance's body, the fur on her withered belly clumping together and spiking toward the earth. It wouldn't be ShadowClan if there wasn't a little bit of grime, but even she had to admit that it was excessive and almost as bad as the snowfield. Her eyes shifted to her patrolling companion, Smogmaw, as the pair traversed, trying to discern his own opinion through careful gawking. She couldn't imagine him liking it much, then again, she couldn't imagine him liking anything much.

There was only a year between the two cats but it was difficult for the ticked tabby to not see him as a grumpy old elder, longing for the 'good old days' but ultimately harmless (at least to her). She considered asking him how it felt to dig through the snow only for it to disappear a day later, or perhaps if he'd made any new friends whilst trapped in the warrior's den - alas, the answers to them seemed too obvious. Quickening her pace to catch up with the tabby, Ferndance shifted her gaze towards the horizon, praying to see signs of life that would make the hunting trip worthwhile. Droppings, clumps of fur, anything that would show that prey had moved back onto ShadowClan land. She didn't much like the idea of going back empty-pawed again, she was supposed to be a good hunter - how was she supposed to show that off and help her home if there was nothing to hunt in the first place? A breathy sigh escaped the chestnut she-cat, the faint condensation appearing near her nose dispersing quickly. At least if they were all going to starve to death, they could be warm while doing it. Newleaf was on the horizon after all, a chance for something new, even if she was growing tired shifting the goalposts.

"The offer is still open to put you out of your misery." She blinked innocuously, her attention shifting back to Smogmaw when the hopelessness set in. She offered him a coy smile. "I'm sure you'd be enough food to sustain the whole elder's den if they spaced out their meals. And ShadowClan would honour your sacrifice, I'm sure."

@smogmaw


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[smogstar]

It was with staggering disbelief when he watched the rain teem down. Torrents - sent forth from the heavens above - made short work of his pathways through camp, and while he would conventionally welcome such a quick riddance to the snow, seeing the fruits of his hard-fought labour wash away like that left him flustered. Hell, it almost saddened him. The one time he sets his reservations aside and does something for the betterment of everyone else, mother nature steps in to remove all traces of his efforts. Bitch.

It goes without saying that he's in a rotten mood. The sole reason Smogmaw is out in the territory on this day, wading through a coagulated union of muck and melted snow, is he'd get in shit. Not only is ignoring the higher-ups' beck and call considered unlawful, but his luck has been pushed as is.

Eyes, begrudging and ill-disposed, digress in his patrol buddy's vicinity when she puts a smidgen more pep in her step. Thus far, their trek came to be wordless and, in defiance of the dreadful state of their environment, somewhat serene. Complete and utter silence is the best way to keep his malignant mutterings at bay. To no surprise at all, Ferndance sabotages the quietude.

"I don't think that's funny no more," groans the tom, his gaze shifting away from his companion as he speaks. Had Halfshade not treated him to a cutlet of meat in recent days, it's safe to say that he'd try to eat her for suggesting such meaningless things. "Besides, no ShadowClan cat's got enough meat on 'em to fill an empty belly," he drawls on, "you're better off ambushing a ThunderClan patrol and taking one of 'em home, or sum'n like that."

He lets out a weighted sigh, wearily skimming over the drowned landscape before him. There's minimal motivation behind his eyes, what with the world's supernatural forces making it apparent that any effort on his part will be nullified, and comically quick, too. His steps are automatic, and his mind regresses into a malaise, shutting itself off to Ferndance and the world around him as he presses onwards.

A low, rushing sound tears him from his stupor. The noise lay just over yonder, somewhere near the wretched grasp of Carrionplace. "Hold on," he says, turning to his companion, "I hear some sort'a water-y noise. Just across the way, there." Whatever it is, it's beyond the scope of his vision. He surmises it may be a product of the abnormal amount of rainfall they'd gotten, but he cannot know for sure lest further investigation is done. "You hear it, too?" he asks, giving his tail a flick, but jolting uncomfortably when it dips into the muck. "Doesn't sound good, whatever it is."​