wc rebels COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS [ 𖤓 ] intro, barn hunting lesson

[Margot]

"Okay so barn huntin' ain't like yer fancy moor huntin'" Margot says to the small group in front of her, clan cats who had come to stay in the place she had called home for moons now. Cats who were battle-sore and tired but most of all, hungry. "Ay, pay attention, we barn cats ain't catchin' all yer meals for ya" she says when she notices one cat beginning to drift off. She's taught enough youngins in her day to know the look of a daydreamer, and she would not tolerate any nonsense while she is trying to teach. These cats, if they wanted to stay, would need to pull their own weight. There were many of them, and she knows with a certain certainty that she will not be the one to put prey into all those open mouths.

"So what yer gunna wanna do first, right, yer gunna wanna raise yer nose to the air, open yer mouth, whatever you gotta do to catch the scent of the things. They're tricky lil' critters they are, always hidin' in the hay so yer gunna want to be diligant but once ya got the scent yer gunna wanna creep up on 'em all slow like" and this, Margot demonstrates by putting one practiced paw in front of the other, her footsteps silent against the hard wood of the barn floor and her eyes focused on a spot in the hay that seems just like all the rest. She passes her tongue over her lips, anticipation making her mouth water, and then suddenly she pounces, diving head first into the straw. Theres the sound of rustling as the mouse that had been her target attempts to escape, and then a squeal that is cut off when it is unsuccessful. When Margots head once again emerges, she is clutching her prey in her jaws.

She trots back to the group with her catch proudly displayed and she deposits it in front of her as she sits, as she licks one forearm and begins to run it along the backside of her ears. Casually she grooms herself as she asks. "Alright, any of you fellas got any questions?"

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── Though Wolfsong is acquainted with Houndthistle's manner of speech, the barn cat's is much more sluggish for him to parse through, such that it brings a wrinkle to his nose. He is so focused on wading he nearly pays little attention to her actual demonstration, though he finds it would not have mattered so much if he had missed it entirely. The display is not intended for Wolfsong, given the restraints of his position, but is not particularly enlightening either way. The new variables are thus: a barn floor and the unfamiliar objects within. Listening and scenting are skills any hunter must hone and know well; she would be better teaching where the wood creaks than instructing them to smell.

Wolfsong should respect these cats who have allowed them to stay, but in truth, he is not convinced they could force the warriors to leave. Still, he will not spit on their kindess— but neither is he keen on this feline's drawling advice. He flicks an ear and seeks patience; weariness has more room for irritability than tolerance, he knows. "Do the twolegs not enter this place often?" Wolfsong asks her from his seat.
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 41 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

When he had asked for their help in understanding this place, he had not known how many would take interest in teaching. There is something in him that is grateful for it, the playful way that a kitten takes leadership from their father. He recalls his own bumbling play at ordering another around. He quickly sobers to remember just how many of the cats here were formerly of his clan. Margot, at least, was not. He stands beside Wolfsong with a similarly flummoxed way of looking upon the cat before them. They trudge through her tone like the fresh-melt mud, where the earth has turned soft to its core and one could sink to their belly. Half of her speech seems fit more for kittens than a warrior such as he, yet her voice alone is enough to keep him enthralled.

"Does it not hurt to lunge to the straw like this?" It made decent bedding he has found, prickly yet warm. If they were to thread some through their nests it would make leafbare far more tolerable. If they remained here, all of them...perhaps life would be kinder, then, but that is not what any of them sought in this clan life of theirs. Though it takes considerable effort to find his mirth here, Sunstride ducks to speak in Wolfsong's ear, "If you were to try, I fear you would lose what little remains of your sight."

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[milkthorn.]

Milkthorn hated the hay. it was itchy, dry, but it was better than the wooden floors. This place was interesting, different and since the journey, he relished the new areas he could find. He'd never been this close, and it really did catch his attention.

To hunt here was weird, he could smell the mice, but they were quite buried within this hay, or the walls. And they weren't the juicy rabbits he so enjoyed to chase. But they were better than nothing and he wouldn't complain.

Margot began teaching the few that gathered, listening intently- something he wouldn't have done as an apprentice. No, as an apprentice he would have claimed to know that he could do it. Blue eyes blinked as the grey barn cat burrowed into the straw, disappeared underneath it. After a few long moments, she would appear again, bringing up a mouse in her jaws.

"Is it as easy as you make it look?"



​

 

[HOUNDTHISTLE]

"BECAUSE COWBOY DAN'S A MAJOR PLAYER IN THE COWBOY SCENE"​

---

Hearing others speak like he does brought warmth to his heart, a familiarity he hadn't known for a long time set in his features as he looked around the barn. Not many twoleg places had straw like this, but pine needles were about as prickly as the straw. His ears perked as he observed the demonstration, intaking it all in with extreme interest. Once she finished, his ears swiveled to Wolfsong and Sunstride, lifting his own head to address his friends, along with Milkthorn, "It's like pine needles. It can get tangled in fur pretty easily, but otherwise, aslong as yer careful, ya can probably avoid anythin' hurtin'." He glanced to Margot to confirm his thoughts. The mice were rampant, a few scritches here, a scutter there, it was like an overfed cat's dream if you liked mice. And though Houndthistle had began to become used to eating rabbits and birds, eating mice reminded him of his childhood. It was filled with warm memories of his mother's humming lullabies and the cool breezes of the forest wind, looking up at the stars through branches.

---

"speech"

---

OOC CURRENT STATS INTERACTION RULES

• text
• Physical Health
  
  100%
  ⤷ left eye is blinded
  Mental Health
  
  98%
• 
  Single | Bicurious | Not actively looking | Interested in Wolfsong, Scorchstreak, Sootspritespark
  
  Houndthistle is both an easy one to gain the trust of and impossible to gain the trust of. He'll rarely reveal personal information or be vulnerable-if he's even capable of such things-but he will show trust in his willingness to lay his life down. To gain it, he needs evidence that you're loyal and strong, same as him, otherwise he understands he may one day have to come head to head with you.
  
  — will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy
  — excels at Fighting, Tracking, Following Orders, Intimidation
  — poor at climbing, swimming, stealth, talking, strategy, politics
  — sounds like: deep, gravelled and thick with a sort of country accent / Arthur Morgan
  — smells of iron, leather, and wood
  — speech is #435E75

​

 

[PINKSHINE]

Pinkpaw hasn't really hunted anything yet... She's been too busy learning how to destroy her enemies and not get swallowed by monsters in the tunnels to worry about rabbits or anything... Sooo Pinkpaw tries to sit and learn from this mysterious cat with a funny twoleg thing wrapped around her neck. Pinkpaw tries to do what she says, opening her mouth and stuff... How's she supposed to smell with her mouth? Hay is apparently what this dry twoleg grass stuff was, and the prey apparently hid in it, instead of tunnelers like they did in the moors... Pinkpaw squints her eyes. She looks around, seeing like, no rustlings in the "hay" at all!

Fellas is a pretty funny word. And also, she has questions! Sunstride and Wolfsong and um, cats she can't remember ask good questions... but hers was gonna be the best question." Are the lil' critters easier or harder to catch than rabbits are? " she asks, trying and failing to copy her weirdo way of talking. Maybe if it was easier, she could catch her first mouse here...

staring at the mirror gotta smile, smile 🌸🌷🦄🦩 don't be late, we got plans!

• 

• NOTE: SHE IS A FEVER COAT BABY!!
  

  

• ( IT'S TIME TO START A FUCKING RIOT, RIOT! ) PINKPAW APPRENTICE OF WINDCLAN. DAUGHTER TO BRIGHTSHINE & HEAVY SNOW. SISTER TO HEATHPAW, DOWNYPAW, & FINCHPAW.
  —— SHE / HER; UNOPPOSED TO THE USE OF OTHERS
  —— CURRENTLY 5 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 16TH
  
  A tiny, longhaired calico she - kit with suburst eyes ringed blue around her pupils (central heterochromia). While you can clearly see her flame markings on her face, the rest of her body is currently covered by a grey fever - coating. Though the whites of her are still very much visible. Pinkpaw bounces around WindClan without a care in the world! Her emotions are big, and she makes little effort to regulate them, resulting in both her usually cheerful disposition, as well as making her prone to sudden bouts of extreme anger or sadness. Rarely seen without a smile!
  

  HEAVY IC OPINIONS! Pinkpaw is a very irrational and childish character!​

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[RATTLEHEART]

It had been quite a while since Rattleheart had focused on hunting mice, though that didn't mean she hadn't in the last few moons. Mice were just as likely as anything else to go darting down into the tunnels, eager as ever to escape the grasping claws of Windclan warriors that they could scent from afar. The tunneler had also been just as likely to scoop them up, teeth sinking into flesh the moment the poor rodents came scurrying into her grasp. Though, she did find that hunting mice reminded her far more of a time before she had been a Windclanner, rather than anything during her time hunting in the tunnels. Back when she and Rabbitclaw and Scorchstreak had just been loners out for themselves, trying to navigate an unkind world that would tear apart a lone cat without a second thought. Back then, she had taken absolutely anything she could get her paws on, mice especially included.

That hadn't changed until she had followed in her sister's pawsteps, joining Windclan and becoming far more acquainted with the taste of rabbit and lizard between her teeth. Lizard especially, considering her mate's own prey preferences. Just the thought of Venomstrike's muttering about crunchy lizards was enough to make her laugh, soft giggles bubbling up from her chest before abruptly being cut off when she remembered where she was. A sheepish look flashed across her face, hoping that Margot wouldn't think that Rattleheart was laughing at her. She was earnestly trying her best to pay attention, though much like Wolfsong she found it slightly hard to have her thoughts not slip away from her. Her hunting skills were one of the few things she earnestly prided herself on, meaning Margot's teachings were mostly things that felt obvious to her.

Glancing briefly down at the coverings layered over her side, the monochrome feline found herself looking at the hay stacks just a little more warily than she would have usually. "I take it it's probably not a great idea to try this out while you've got wounds that could potentially reopen. I really don't think I want to end up with any hay in there... feels like just asking for an infection." Not to mention the fact that leaping into the hay pile presented a problem in and of itself, the sudden movement sure to wreck poor Wolfsong's hard work.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[SPARROWBREEZE]

She remembers this, somewhat; remembers her own mother trying to teach what the molly in front of her tries share with a group of Sparrowbreeze's clanmates. It's a kitten-blurred memory now, the brown tabby and her littermate's clumsy kitten paws trailing after the mice skittering around her barn.

Sparrowbreeze is unsure whether her kitten self managed a single catch — it's unlikely, she knows, but there is a twinge of joy in the moment's remembrance as she listens along to the bandana-clad cat's words. At least now she'll have a chance to catch what her younger self was unable, all while getting to feed the remains of her crumbled clan.

" It's... It's not too bad, " she finds herself assuring Milkthorn, who questions the ease of their new hunting grounds. Or, in practice, she assumes such. " At least we don't have to chase 'em across the moors. "

A plus, in the cold of leaf-bare — though her legs itch to run, urge her to move further than the horseplace's confines. ​

✦ ABOUT

• 

  SPARROW ‣ SPARROWKIT ‣ SPARROWPAW ‣ SPARROWBREEZE
  ── Rebel Moor Runner of WindClan
  
  ── Birdie x Fisher
  ── AFAB; She/Her
  ── A scarred, brown tabby she-cat with low white and amber eyes.
  ── Mentored by Clawtail
  ── "Speech"; Attack​

​

 

[Margot]

Questions she asks for, and questions she receives, the first of which comes from the rom who had on their first day here established himself as the clans healer. That must be nice she thinks, the idea that if one were to get hurt or sick, there was someone waiting to help you, to heal you. Loners did not revel in that same safety. Once, when she had been a kittypet, her housefolk would have taken her to their healer to be seen if something was wrong with her. But those days were long past, and she lived here now. "Naw" she drawls out "They don’t bother us, long as we leave ‘em and their like alone and keep to the mice. They don’t like when you touch their chickens. Though I heard y’all clan cats learned that the hard way a while back" of course rumor of their stint last leaf-bare had gotten around. The other barn cats had seen it, had heard the commotion, the bang of the fire stick. It was not difficult to put two and two together.

The second question is one that she cannot fault the leader of their little group for asking, but her whiskers twitch in amusement. “Why? Are you scared?” is the sentence that immediately pops into her mind but something about these cats tells her that they would not take kindly to a taunt such as that, so instead she opts for a more peaceful response. "The first time I ever dunnit I was more nervous than a hare who had accidentally stumbled into a badgers den. It scratches, but if yer quick it ain’t too bad" she amends to Sunstride and then to the young cat who spoke up next to him, trying not to let the slight praise get to her head. "like catching’ fish in a puddle" amusement makes the corners of her mouth pull up into a smile and she allows that to be answer enough to Pinkpaw’s question as well.

Open wounds are asked about next, and Margot finds herself turning to the injured warrior, smile falling off her face and replaced by a slight frown. "I suppose ya probably shouldn’t but there’s other ways if yer patient. The mice gotta come out their hides holes to eat eventually" she motions with one paw to a small pile of grain nearby. "if yer real quiet like and yer quick enough they shouldn’t give ya any trouble at all" her golden eyes shift as another cat says it’s not too bad, the smile on her face coming back to alight her features once more. At least someone seemed to get it. There were much worse places one could be forced to catch prey if they were desperate. A lesson she has learned far too early in a life she has always envisioned comfort in.

"Thats the spirit, a’ight who wants to demonstrate what they’ve learned so far first?" she asks, eyes sweeping over the group of assembled cats, searching for a volunteer.


​

 

[POLLENFUR]

Her fur brushes against Margot’s as she walks on deft paws to observe the Clan cats huddled in the barn. She knows the older she-cat—she’d been around during her pregnancy, had helped teach Hyacinthbreath and her how to hunt amongst the straw just as she does to the Clan cats now. It’s the other cats she watches with wary amber eyes, her paws prickling as they prod Margot with questions about the hay. The older queen answers them in her characteristic drawl while the chocolate calico’s gaze flicks to Wolfsong. She recognizes him—he, like Sunstride, had come in with the rogues. “Twolegs do come in,” she adds to Margot’s brusque answer. She nervously twines her tail about her paws, fur twitching uncomfortably. “But like she said, they don’t bother the cats here. I think they like that we hunt the mice…”

As though she can hear what Sunstride is thinking, she murmurs to the group at large, eyes sweeping the straw-dusted floor, “It’s easier hunting than chasing rabbits once you get used to it. Even in leafbare, there are mice who seek the warmth of the barns.” Part of her wishes they would stay, if only so she could remain close to Brightshine and her remaining kin, to her kits, but she has seen the restless gazes of the older warriors and knows they yearn for their moorland turf.

, ”​

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