CRUSHED LITTLE STARS | prompt, bird nest hunting

BLOODHOUND.

BEAST OF THE HUNT.
Apr 6, 2023
24
4
3
WHO IS THE LAMB AND WHO IS THE KNIFE? ☽⁺₊⋆
After having noticed other warriors in the clan ascending the trees for eggs to lay on the freshkill pile, and after having taken one for themself the previous night, the wonder of such a rich, hearty treat swirled around the bengal's mind all evening. Pleasantly surprised by the thin, crunchy shell, and the gooey, slimy texture of what was housed within, yolk on their whiskers as they slurped it up with mirth, the hybrid was itching to contribute.

Like the others, Bloodhound was happy to tear it from the source. They planned to only take one egg from any given nest, so as to not completely extinct the birds within this newleaf. The warrior spent the late evening mapping out the quieting birdsong, marking trees where their feathery prey would settle and roost for the night. Hoping to find at least a few eggs within those branches.

As the tweeting and twittering quieted down for the night, Bloodhound would quietly wait in the undergrowth, low to the ground, hiding their pale fur, until the only song from the marshes were of frogs and insects. They even waited a little while longer, until the moon had begun to rise, before executing their plan. Propelling themself forward with momentum, a running start before leaping onto one of the trees they'd marked, claws digging into the bark. Tearing up towards the upper branches, following the scent of the roosting bird. Carefully, quietly, the further they climbed, keeping an eye out for any nests, for feathers in the branches.

Eventually, the hybrid found one such nest, a bird sleeping away in it. They silently pulled themself up on the same branch, trying to see if there were any eggs under the bird. Frowning, their tail gently wagging as they thought, and not wishing to disturb the bird, Bloodhound would gently pull at the nest under the bird, destroying it just a little. Trying to get a peek underneath the feathered creature. The bird quickly jolts awake, wings ruffling in fear and horror. Flapping its wings, and batting at Bloodhound, screeching to high heaven. The warrior's fur stood on end as they batted back at the bird, claws sheathed. Not wishing to harm it for being upset, they were only here for the eggs!

The bird wouldn't relent, talons swiping for the bengal's face. Bloodhound would hiss and snarl, ducking under the bird, even as talons raked their fur, finding a swarm of eggs in the nest. The bird's talons would catch their nape, and Bloodhound would turn around to smack at it again, their paw swiping a few of the eggs out of the nest and down to the marsh below in its trajectory.

That.... was not what they'd meant to do.
 


Whatever had occupied the deputy's mind up until that point is annulled into his subconscious. A hellish uproar erupts amongst the treetops at a moment's whim, halting him mid-step and contorting his features into a rather unpleasant expression. His ears feel stabbed by the shrill chirps and twitters, and they promptly flatten against his skull as the clamour drags on. This bird was going to get its throat ripped out should it not pipe down. He cannot see through his wince, but he can envision what this wicked creature may look like: a rotten heap of fathers, too loud for its own good, thrashing around in the branches like a rabid animal.

Hold up a moment. Can birds get rabies?

Once more, he finds his train of thought torn from its tracks when a series of somethings collide with the ground to his side. Eyes shoot open to glimpse what they are, and a sharp exhale soon follows. Eggs. No wonder it sounds so unsettled.

His bewildered gaze would scale the tree's axis and home in on the source of the ruckus. "Bloodhound?!" comes a baffled exclamation when he descries not another beast, but a clanmate invading its nest. To be fair, though, Bloodhound could be considered a beast for all he cares. "Put the fucking thing out of its misery, already!" Smogmaw then howls, neck craned upwards.

From what little he's seen of their effort, Bloodhound's intentions are vague, yet somewhat decipherable. They sought food from the home of the wrong bird, and it now looks as though eggs are off the menu. This is why he prefers frog's eggs—not only were they far easier to harvest, but he didn't look like an idiot while collecting them.

 



Starlingheart is drawn to the sounds of chaos on snow tipped paws. The screeching sounds of her clanmates, of the birds that flit about in the pines above them. But this was different than the usual forest noises. She hears yelling, she hears the furious screams of the winged creature and then she hears smogmaw’s voice yelling a clanmates name. That is all it takes to send her running deeper into the forest, searching for the sound.

When she finally gets there she stops by the gray tabbies side and peers between the branches up at their spotted clanmate who is getting beat by a bird of all things.

It only takes one look at the eggs to know what’s going on.

She looks at the broken pieces of shell and yolk then back to Bloodhound and she cannot helps the laugh that escapes her throat.

 
WHO IS THE LAMB AND WHO IS THE KNIFE? ☽⁺₊⋆
Even over the feverish, loud keening from the bird in their face, tearing at their nape, Bloodhound could hear voices below them, Smogmaw yelling up to them, telling them to put the fucking thing out of its misery. Starlingheart laughing, watching. Perhaps they would laugh too, if their mouth was not already full, if they were watching some other idiot get attacked by a bird, high above.

The bird doesn't relent, as Bloodhound thinks, while they still bat at it. Not struggling to fend it off, not really. They were perfectly capable of killing it. They didn't want to. Didn't want to need to. It too deserved life, it was fighting for its young honorably. Understandably. It didn't seem fair to them, to kill it for rightfully protecting its progeny. It was Bloodhound who had miscalculated, who had preyed upon it while it slept. Bloodhound retains their grip on the egg in their jaws, trying to shield their face and eyes from the flying talons and feathers of the distressed bird.

It'd wake up the whole forest at this point, if it hadn't already. It was drawing too much attention, could easily spoil the hunts of their other clanmates. The bengal is reminded that as a rule, they are something different and invasive here, in a marsh they didn't quite belong. A wildcat from another land running through their blood. What would they be, if they were to kill over distress, over a mother mourning its lost young? To kill and kill and deplete the sparse resources of their home, a beast that only knew murder?

They aren't angry, aren't struggling. Bloodhound is in relative control of the situation, backing away from the nest, smacking at the bird, keeping it away, trying to shoo it back. Their tail curls around them as they crouch on the branch, defensive, making their large body smaller, lower, still reaching out to smack it away. Praying it would grow tired, that it would allow them to leave in peace.

A talon swoops for their face and as they duck, the bengal swings their paw one last time at the bird, much harder than intended. Smacking the poor thing in the head and neck, stunning it. It tumbles to the forest floor below, as Bloodhound watches in quiet horror. They hadn't wanted this. They take a glance at the nest again, two eggs remaining in it. Scrambling down the tree, branch by branch, eyes locked on the bird below.

Unsure if it was dying, if anything had been broken.

They nod at their clanmates in quiet greeting as their paws touch the earth once more, leaning to sniff at the poor feathered thing, unmoving and warm. Twisted, from the look of it. Their tail curled tight around them. A quiet apology, touching their leathery nose to the head of the bird. They'd lay the egg next to the bird, their jaw a little sore from carrying it so gently.

"I apologize for the fuss. I didn't want to have to kill it." Their voice is soft, regretful, gaze level with their deputy. "There are still two other eggs within its nest. It would be a waste to let them simply die up there."