FRANTIC — turkey hunt

[GRANITEPELT]

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XXXXXOne of the latest border patrols had sighted something strange near the Burnt Sycamore, though Granitepelt could hardly believe it himself. “I swear to StarClan, the bird was bigger’n Frostbite! His tail had flicked with annoyed reluctance, but he’d organized a patrol to check it out. The cats fan out behind him, all of them no doubt as bored with this made-up mission as he is. He’d certainly never heard of a bird bigger than the largest cat in their Clan—besides a hawk or a vulture, anyway, but supposedly this thing waddled around on the ground like an overgrown pigeon. “Keep an eye out,” he instructs his patrol, his claws kneading the marshy earth as he struts through the grass. Dew leaves fresh wet strips on his pelt. “Remember, we’re looking for a bird as big as—” The scorn in his voice fades, though, as a terrifying sound echoes from somewhere nearby.

XXXXXThe fur begins to spike into steel-colored blades along his shoulders. “What in the name of StarClan is that?” His voice is a low hiss, now threaded with unease. The sound had been unlike any bird call he’d ever heard—deep, chortling, making enough racket for all the rest of the birds in the forest. He lashes his tail into a clumsy signal for his patrol to line up behind him. Against the singed-black bark of the Burnt Sycamore, he presses his flank and peers around the trunk, ears flat against his skull.

XXXXXThe creature on the other side, several foxlengths from the sneaking patrol, pecks idly at the tadpoles and other muck at the bottom of a greenish puddle. It is bigger than any cat in the Clan, and he hadn’t been prepared for the sheer ugliness of it. Flesh bunches at its throat and beak, swinging like pendulums to bounce against either side of its pointed face. Its feathers fan behind its body in a rich black and auburn display, but the rest of it is hideous.

XXXXX“It’s almost like… a duck,” he muses quietly, the fur beginning to lie flat on his shoulders again. After all, a bird is only a bird, right?

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— prompt thread!
apprentice tag, @APPLEPAW
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[APPLEJAW]

Granitepelt had been telling the truth all that time ago – that even he was meant to take orders from those above him, even if said orders amounted to an almost literal wild goose chase. Applepaw feels that she has the right to be disgruntled, considering that she wasn’t the only one. She thinks the fact that they’re willing to seek out this great, imaginary bird was very telling of their status – that they were so afraid to go hungry that they would believe such obvious lies; eager to scrape up any morsel of this supposed bird.

At least, that’s what she thinks, until she hears a loud… cry? She startles a few paces behind her mentor. With eyes wide, she follows his signal, ducking behind the natural cover the swamp provides. It was pathetic to be afraid of an overgrown bird, wasn’t it? So she simply wouldn’t be. Nevermind the flat press of her ears against her skull. " Can we even hunt that? " She asks sincerely. It was freakishly huge.

ooc ༊ 𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂

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• ( I'M OBSESSED WITH THE MESS THAT'S AMERICA. ) APPLEPAW. kit of shadowclan. eldest sister to swanpaw, ashenpaw, and garlicpaw. ( + birdkit, halfkit & tanglekit )
  —— she / her; confused by the use of others.
  —— currently 6 moons old as of 9.27.23. ages every 17th.
  
  longhaired blue torbie with a white chest, paws, and underbelly. A young cat you would describe as " bossy, " Applekit is quick to take charge of any situation she sees herself as the probable head of. A rule - follower to a T, and thinks herself better than the majority of her clan for this. Not ignorant enough to think herself above a warrior, but seeks to gain that status as quickly as possible. Intensely self - motivated to be the best in a mixture of blind, childish desire, and never wanting to be afraid of anything ever again.

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[Frostbite]

When Frostbite heard rumors of a bird bigger than him, he was quite interested. What kind of bird was that? He's seen eagles and owls, but he feels if it were one of those, they'd know already. Those birds are predators with the nastiest talons he's ever seen, and if one were here, someone would surely be injured by now.

But you know what they say about curiosity.

He follows Granitepelt on his patrol, fanning out with the rest of them. He didn't need to be told to keep an eye out, he wanted to see this thing for himself. He ignores the scorn in Granitepelts voice and it was good he did, apparently.

Because the worst noise he had ever heard in his life just sounded from the ugliest bird he's ever seen in his life.

"The ugliest bird in the world, is what it is." He says quietly, making sure to stay out of sight of this new beast.

Granitepelt says its almost like a duck, but.... He doesn't quite see it. It looked like some fucked up vulture to him, with the naked head.

Applepaw asks if they can even hunt this strange bird. He smiles at her. "With teamwork, we can." He says, observing the the bird. "The thing about bigger birds is they tend to be more....Confident." He says. "If we aren't careful, someone could get hurt." He adds, omitting what he was originally going to say. You know...Someone could get their eyes pecked out by such a big bird.​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

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XXXXX“Can we even hunt that?” A high-pitched but muffled voice sounds from behind him. Granitepelt flicks an ear to acknowledge he’d heard Applepaw, but his eyes do not leave the bird pecking about in the marsh grass. His tail flips to and fro behind him as he ponders. Frostbite, his snowy pelt a boon in this hunt, murmurs that with teamwork, they might be able to hunt the beast. “Perhaps,” Granitepelt murmurs. “But it’s bigger than a duck, and that beak looks…” He tilts his head. “…Sharp.”

XXXXXPerhaps their quiet conversation had gone on too long—or perhaps one consonant had been uttered too harshly. Whatever the cause, the turkey’s head jerks back, its beady eyes round and bright. They settle on the three ShadowClan cats of varying sizes and dispositions. Clearly, it senses a threat—its feathers ripple like fur, ruffled and chunky on its wings and flanks. Granitepelt stiffens as it emits a squawk! to pierce the skies, and his short fur begins to fluff out in response.

XXXXX“Run, now!” He barks. Just as the words leave his mouth, the bird flutters its wings and begins to wattle towards them at alarming speeds. He is a lead warrior now, and he’s expected to protect the cats with him—so he shoves both cats in front of him in what could be a tangle of paws. “Go, go!”

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