fair weather friends | hunting patrol

[Cloverjaw –]

FOR LIFE I GAMBLE LOVE
cloverjaw | 43 months | trans male | he/him | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #cf9748

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When Cloverjaw had been in charge of a little hunting patrol, he hadn't been expecting the utter lack of nothing they had found. Usually, even now, they would have had more luck- but the lack of prey in any of his clanmates' jaws deny that, and the only sign of his annoyance he can give is a twitch of his tail tip before he's turning to face them.

"Let's go to the Rockpile." It's close by, and while he wishes there were more than mice, it seems like today just isn't their day, and a last resort is better than nothing prey-wise.

The walk isn't long, but it's the sight he sees that causes Cloverjaw to stop in his tracks completely. The rockpile is teeming with mice, too many to count, and for a second a part of his brain refuses to even believe that it's worked out this way. It doesn't last long, though, before he's tilting his head towards the mess of mice with a grin, an unspoken gesture to his clanmates. They know what to do.

OOC: i thought it would be fun to have a dice rolling dynamic here, since the prompt has it as an option. it's not needed, but if you want the extra flavor text, roll a d20- 1-10 is a catch, and 11-20 is a miss!

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[DOEBLAZE]

An old paw at failure, it has admittedly been quite a few moons since Doeblaze found herself properly struggling to make a catch. She chalks it up to greenleaf's generosity as she trails Cloverjaw through the forest; today's fruitless hunt is a sharp reminder that frost has begun to form on the distant horizon. It's high time they all got used to coming hom empty-pawed, she supposes, but that doesn't fully soothe her annoyance. It ripples through her fur like someone had rubbed it the wrong way, recollections of the catches she'd just-missed nagging at her. When the snow falls, a missed catch could mean life or death for a hungry elder or a sick kit.

Cloverjaw pivots on his paws to face them all, his tail flicking, perhaps with the annoyance that has her own half-tail twitching against her haunches. He's considerably more personable than his brother, she's found, not that that's a difficult contest. Doeblaze has to suppress a burble of amusement as she nudges @cloudypaw~ when the patrol sets off anew, hoping to find a last scrap of luck at the Rockpile. And find it they do—more than a scrap of fortune, a teeming army of mice swarms around the rocks long piled against at yawning angles against each other, as if tossed carelessly by a divine paw.

" Go ahead, show me what you've been learning. " Doeblaze nods to her apprentice to split off and find a mouse of his own as she hopefully does the same. The tawny warrior spins on her paws and drops into a fluid crouch. Her dappled body and compact frame slot easily in the sun-dappled passages between the rocks, and it doesn't take long for the woody, wild scent of mouse to drape across her tongue. Her head cocked low to the pine-littered floor like a bloodhound, she makes quick work of spotting the mouse's quivering body. Two quick bounds and a lunge is all it takes to land the catch, the animal's small, drab-colored body still warm and twitching in her jaws.

" Got one. " The warrior lopes back to near where they'd originally entered, setting the dead mouse carefully atop a small rock. Her claws flex in and out of the soil, still a bit hard with the morning's frost, newly invigorated with bright energy. " Think I should press my luck and try for another? "

OOC : Rolled a 1!

✦

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[SILVERSMOKE]

The rockpile was an area with bad memories attached to it. Even now, the two-pronged scars of a venomous snake bite clung to his hind leg as a permanent reminder of his near-dance with death. Returning mere moons later felt like tempting fate, but having listened to Johnnyflame talk about serpents enough convinced the tom that he would stand a much greater chance against his nemesis now. The tom's sharp eyes left little room for friendliness and a firmly taut maw left little room for conversation, the spotted tabby's attention solely focused on gaps in the rock formation where either prey or predator lurked. There were mice, so many mice, enough mice that he doubted they were the only animals there to hunt them.

He watched as Doeblaze went forward first, apprentice in-tow, and stalked in a different path than the she-cat. His fur never was the right colour to blend him against the dustier grey-brown rocks, yet, the unlucky hunter seemed to blend in better than usual, the sea of mice too distracted to watch him slip through the stone maze. Motionless, he waited for one of the rodents to veer away from the main group, sniffing the seeds and grasses a mere tail-length from Silversmoke's scarred maw. He breathed once, waited for the mouse to begin nibbling, and pounced forward, grabbing the mouse by the neck and whipping it back into the shadows. Teeth crunched down on its neck before it could make a sound, but before he tested his luck again, his eyes went back towards the gaps in the rocks.

[ rolled a 7! ]

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[spicepurr]

[ rolled a 3 :3 ]

Spicepurr follows the patrol, albeit a bit awkwardly as she still grows used to not having a mentor to guide her. It's nice to be trusted largely on her own, especially given her personal excursions, but she still assumes it's something to get used to. Her gaze flits about to the cats she's with, wondering if any of them have had this bout of uncertainty after their apprenticeships ended. (And then she begins to wonder which of them had apprenticeships to begin with. Doeblaze's story is largely on display throughout the scars of her body, but Cloverjaw, Silversmoke? She isn't sure.)

The rockpile teems with healthy prey and before long, the patrol is snatching up plump mouse after plump mouse. Spicepurr wonders if leaving a few behind would be smart, to let them repopulate throughout leafbare rather than make the Clan entirely fat now. She dismisses her thought, purely on the venture that it is not her decision to make.

Within moments, a mouse finds its way into her jaws and she swiftly dispatches it in seconds. She's glad to no longer squander her own missions, glad that in doing so she hadn't ruined her skill. Her gaze fixes over to Doeblaze's apprentice, curious as to if the other will ever feel something similar to her. She hopes, as she nudges the mouse away from the rockpile, that the youth never does.​

 

[BUTCHERMAW]

✦ There was something comforting about everyone else struggling to catch prey. Not that Butcher had faired any better - her paws were just as empty as the next feline, the red sprayed over her fur simply her usual decoration and not a mark of success. But if four warriors, all more experienced than herself, were coming up empty, maybe it hinted that the red and white woman wasn't terrible at hunting. Maybe it was just a bad day! It would've been nice if the bad day hadn't happened so close to her assessments, but, hey, she figured bad days weren't available for scheduling.

And then Cloverjaw leads them to an area overflowing with perfectly catchable mice, and Doeblaze and Silversmoke and Spicepurr are all making successful catches, and suddenly it's a little bit intimidating. It had been perfectly fine when nobody was catching anything. It would be a bit awkward now if Butcher struggled.

The hunting party diverged and descended on the mice, squeaks and a faint tinge of iron filling the air, and she rolled out her shoulders before following suit. A leaf pile just to the side of the rocks, dappled with yellows and oranges and reds, sounded like a good idea for her own path to successful hunting. Hadn't Figfeather said something about using the scenery to catch prey unaware? Butcher could totally hide among the leaves. There were even mice scampering between the leaf pile and the Rockpile. She stalked closer, only for the dried leaves to crinkle beneath her paws and startle her quarry. She lunged after a streak of brown fur regardless, desperate, and got leaf litter all through her fur for her troubles. There might have been swearing involved.

Head low, she walked back toward Doeblaze. "Pressing your luck can't be any worse than whatever I just pressed," she said somewhat sheepishly, her voice low to not disturb the other, more successful hunters. "I sort of suggested gutting the mouse queen the other day, and I think these mice can sense it."

//rolled a 15​