private DIRTY PAWS | slorabies

[SLATESNARL]

Prey—precious, prized prey—had already been distributed to the queens. However, after eyeing the stock on the fresh-kill pile, he decided that they would not be the only nursery residents being fed today. Even when bellies are hollow and resources are scarce, Slatesnarl prioritizes feeding his children. He would not lose them to this hellish storm. What if Butterflytuft's milk wasn't providing them what they needed?

Slatesnarl emerges into the den like some sort of abominable snowbeast, with snow clinging to his dark features and limbs like pollen to a bee. Labored, short breaths draw from a parted maw, entrapped within his canines a small mouse. The effort of trudging through the snow, especially with a stiff hip, nearly winded Slatesnarl but he managed a bear-like grumble, "Kits,"

After he captured the attention of his twins, Slatesnarl dropped the fresh-kill onto the floor of the nursery and nudged it toward them with his great paw. "Eat this." He orders... if they could even understand him, that is. Slatesnarl isn't quite sure how far along they are developmentally; it's been a busy moon filled with hunting and scavenging for resources. The Maine Coon only knows that Ramkit and Lambkit are alive and that was all that mattered to him right now.

A hardened glance of ochre acknowledges Butterflytuft if only for a moment, but he does not seek her approval. This leafbare was one of the worst he'd ever seen. If the youngsters were to make it through to newleaf, they would need to start eating real food. "It'll... keep you strong." Slatesnarl manages hoarsely, his shoulders quivering as a sudden chill runs down his spine.

𝟒𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐔𝐍

• @RAMKIT @LAMBKIT ( optional @butterflytuft @Orangestar tags but no obligation! )

• 

• 

  — slatesnarl / 44 moons / he/him
  — skyclan warrior & former lead warrior
  — mate to orangestar / father to lambkit & ramkit
  — lh solid black maine coon w/ rusting, amber eyes. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
  — click for tags

​

​

 

[LAMBKIT]

Lambkit has yet to experience the joys of new-leaf, the rain-showers bringing puddles to stomp in, the feeling of a warm breeze, the smell of flowers blossoming across the territory. All he knows of the outside world is cold and wet and he does not enjoy either of these things very much. The adults seemed to though, considering the fact that every day they went and hung out in it. Weren't they cold? Or did they know a secret to it that he had yet to find out for himself?

The snow is unrelentless in its flurries today, but that doesn't seem to bother him. Why should it when he was safe and warm here in the nursery with his foster mother, his sister and all the other kits. It's been a long day of playing and he now lays tucked into Butterflytuft's side, blue eyes blinking slowly as he fights sleep, the warmth and milk scent of the nursery combined with the distant roar of the wind outside lulling him into the promise of an easy sleep.

All hopes of a nap coming to fruition are dashed by the shadow that falls upon the den though. Lambkit's eyes light up the second they fall upon his father. A rare visitor to the nursery, but a welcome one no doubt. "DAAAAAA!" He squeals as he shoots up, going as fast as his tiny paws would allow.

His fathers voice is nothing like Butterflytuft's. It is a rough grumble that grates upon his ears, but Lambkit doesn't seem to mind the gruff tone, he smiles up at his father all the same, fluffy golden tail waving high in the air and fur sticking up all over the place, no doubt ruffled by his frantic dash to greet the warrior. Before he can say another new word he had learned recently (that word being hi) Something is deposited at his feet. Eat this Slatesnarl says It'll keep you strong "Strong?" he echoes, tilting his head and glancing back over his shoulder to give Butterflytuft a quizzical look before demonstrating another word he had learned. His first actually! "No!" he says with a smile, shaking his head furiously as he pushes the prey away with one paw, not totally understanding what his father is wanting him to do but liking this new game already.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ- but I’d stand in the garden with you

• 
  
  
• 
  LAMBKIT SKYCLAN KITTEN ; HE / HIM
  SLATE X ORANGESTAR LITTERMATE TO TBNKIT ; HALF BROTHER TO CHERRYBLOSSOM, OWLHEART, GLIMMERSUN, TAWNYCLAW & EGGBOUNCE
  

  A fluffy cream coated tom with mismatched white socked toes, a white marking blazing a trail down his face, and striking blue eyes.

  ✿ easy in battle + no formal training
  ✿ difficult to befriend
  ✿ Peaceful + healing power-play allowed, anything else with permission only
  

 

[RAMKIT]

The experience her brother has is much the same to her own; unsurprisingly, of course, as they are literally of the same litter, brought up by the same trio of cats. Perhaps their opinions line up too, for while the snow is all she can recall in her recent memory, she cannot recall ever liking it. The expanses of her mind grow larger day by day, and she can faintly recall moments where the world wasn't cloaked in white - but in this moment, such details do not matter. She is curled up, warm, by her brother's side and within Butterflytuft's nest. All is right, and perfect, and nothing could ruin her chance at a good nap -

Slatesnarl's voice may as well rattle the bare branches of the nursery. Either that, or the way the kits spring to their paws, ignorant to their former fatigue. Lambkit is quicker whilst Ramkit takes her time simply trying to find her father. Eventually she gets there, and she drawls a long, "A-hhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...!" to him, stealing her brother's valor from beneath him. The mouse that is gifted to them is quickly discarded by her prince of a sibling, and though Lambkit hesitates and wavers, Ramkit is intrigued. Slatesnarl is a good cat! He wouldn't tell them to do something that'd hurt them...!

"What..." she starts, touching her nose to its wiry fur. It's instinctive, next, how she opens her maw to test her teeth against its flesh. It doesn't give easily, the same elasticity as her brother's tail. Clouded blue eyes flutter towards her father, "What?" she repeats, though the question in itself is unclear.
​

 

[SLATESNARL]

It's peculiar, witnessing such young and innocent souls light up so vividly whenever Slatesnarl enters the room. They are too naive to know of his infamous attitude and temper, to know of his rumored reputation as a "kit-eater". They only knew him as their dad.

His son's instantaneous rejection of his offering does not fail to frustrate Slatesnarl. Mice were one of the basic food sources that SkyClan had to offer; if Lambkit was going to survive in this forest, he would have to learn to like them. "Yes. Try it, Lambkit." The Maine Coon rumbles sternly, nudging the kill back toward the twins.

Ramkit seems to understand the idea thus far, showing interest in the mouse and even parting her tiny jaws to sink her small teeth into it. Then she stops, seemingly unsure of what to do. "Bite harder." Slatesnarl encourages, a bit of snow cascading off the tip of his ear as he flicks it. Maybe the issue was that she couldn't bite very hard, being young and all. "Er, here," The warrior bends down, using his canines to tear into the flesh of the rodent and expose the tasty meat inside.

Lifting his head and stepping back now, the charcoal-pelted feline licks his lips and says, "Now try." If his kits were anything like him, they would not be able to resist the mouthwatering smell of fresh-kill.

𝟒𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐔𝐍

•  

• 

• 

  — slatesnarl / 44 moons / he/him
  — skyclan warrior & former lead warrior
  — mate to orangestar / father to lambkit & ramkit
  — lh solid black maine coon w/ rusting, amber eyes. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
  — click for tags

​

​

 

[LAMBKIT]

His father is undeterred by his game, relentless in the way he insists that Lambkit do something else with the mouse. But if it wasnt here for him to play with then what? He cannot imagine the possibility of consuming anything other than milk, despite the fact that he had seen adults eat prey like this before. That wasn't him so it didn't concern him right? Wrong, apparently, because Slatesnarl is pushing it closer to them, his voice encouraging as Ramkit takes a bite, as he himself takes a bite. Lambkit watches with nothing short of intrigue shining in his wide eyes. So he got to do that too? Did that mean he would be a grown up soon?

He approaches with caution at first, still skeptical, but Slatesnarl and Ramkit had both bitten it already and been fine... As he approaches though a change comes over him, the scent of prey fill his nostrils, making his mouth water and before he even has time to think he's lungng forward, tearing off a large chunk of meat with a savagery not yet seen from him in his kit games. He barely tastes it in his fervor, and if Ramkit were to join him in hsi feast he would barely notice her either. When he looks back up at his charcoal coated sire, his own face is stained crimson with the blood of the consumed prey. "More!" he demands, despite his full belly.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ- but I’d stand in the garden with you

• 
  
  
• 
  LAMBKIT SKYCLAN KITTEN ; HE / HIM
  SLATE X ORANGESTAR LITTERMATE TO TBNKIT ; HALF BROTHER TO CHERRYBLOSSOM, OWLHEART, GLIMMERSUN, TAWNYCLAW & EGGBOUNCE
  

  A fluffy cream coated tom with mismatched white socked toes, a white marking blazing a trail down his face, and striking blue eyes.

  ✿ easy in battle + no formal training
  ✿ difficult to befriend
  ✿ Peaceful + healing power-play allowed, anything else with permission only
  

 

[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft sits in her usual corner of the nursery, her tortoiseshell coat unkempt and her sunflower eyes ringed with exhaustion. The past moon has been relentless, but her devotion to the kits in her care keeps her going. Budkit, Lambkit and Ramkit are all thriving, which is all she could ever want. Still, even her boundless patience has its limits, and the harsh leaf-bare has stretched her thin.

When Slatesnarl enters, snow dusting his massive frame, the small she-cat watches him silently, her expression unreadable. Though her instinct is to bristle at his commanding tone, she knows he only wants what's best for his kits. They are at the age to start eating fresh-kill, and the thought soothes her ever-present worry that her milk may not be enough for them. Her gaze softens when Lambkit squeals with delight and Ramkit toddles after him, their excitement a balm to her weariness. For all his gruffness, Slatesnarl's presence lights up their little world, and she can't begrudge him for that.

As their father nudges the mouse toward the twins, Butterflytuft shifts slightly, making room. Her foster daughter's cautious curiosity and Lambkit's initial resistance both make her smile faintly. It's her foster son's sudden, wild ferocity that startles her, though, and she blinks as the little tom tears into the mouse with surprising vigor. 'More!' His demand rings out, his small face stained red, and the queen chuckles softly despite herself. "Lambkit, let your sister eat too," She says gently, nudging the uneaten part of the mouse toward Ramkit. She glances up at Slatesnarl, a small nod of acknowledgment passed toward him before her gaze returns to the twins, pride and a pang of sadness mixing in her chest. Soon, they would need her less and less. Just look how fast they're already growing!
​