get in the water // dawn hunt [event]

ATOMS AND LOW SELF-ESTEEM,
IS THAT ALL THAT I'M GONNA BE ?
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periwinklebreeze 27 moons demi-boy windclan lead warrior
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Paws tread carefully against ice-slick ground, cropped pelt fluffed pitifully against the cold - not that it does much, really. Periwinklebreeze has never liked leaf-bare - for all that it is the first season he truly remembers, it is not a fond memory by any means. Hawks, foxes, sickness - death. His mothers exile. Last leaf-bare had been no different - nights spent huddled amongst the haylofts, wondering if he'd made the right choice. And now, Weepingpaws disappearance. No, leaf-bare is far from his favorite season.

Head shakes, dispersing the clouds of fog that pool from opened jaws - scenting the air carefully. They've not had the best luck with prey lately - ears twitch at the reminder that hi apprentice has still yet to make a proper first catch - but he can't let that stop him. Blackened pas would rather work themselves bloody then not try - and today, at least, starclan is on his side - a familiar scent curling about his senses.

He drops easily into position, tail swishing out a silent warning even as ears go on full alert. the rustling of grass- the wind perhaps, but instinct tells him otherwise. Paws thud against half-frozen ground, eyes alight in the pale pink light as smoke-tinged figure pounces, tearing after a brown blur that is a heart-beat too slow. The chase doesn't last long - doesn't have too, really, before he's lunging again, jaws wrapping around the rabbits throat and snapping it just as quickly.

Theres a moment of breathlessness, flanks heaving, and then relief. They will not be empty pawed, at least.

actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes'
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W H A T -D O E S - M Y -L I F E -E V E N -M E A N ?
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// This is an event thread! Please be aware all catches will need to be rolled for and count towards the points total and roll count for your oc. optional apprentice ping @Vulturepaw

Encounter: 17 (No predator arrives, they are safe.)
Peri's Prey Rolls: 15 (success) 8 (medium prey)
Points Earned: 2
 
➴➴ They have grown used to trailing after Periwinklebreeze; their mate's position on the leader's council elevates him to a position of authority, meaning that the scarred tom is often the one leading patrols rather than Gravelsnap. And Gravelsnap does not mind it at all, because they will take any chance they can to follow their mate out into the open moorland. They are grateful, too, for the option to trail a few paces behind the rest of the patrol, not needing to be the one to set the pace. They have recovered fully from their yellowcough over a year ago, but the lingering effects have made themselves known as a slight ache in their chest as the air has grown cold. They do not suffer the same lasting issues as a few of their clanmates, but in the worst weather they are hopelessly reminded of their near-death experience—and Peri’s, as well.

The patrol begins to spread out, and Gravelsnap watches as Peri brings down a decently-sized rabbit. The black-patched warrior departs from the group as well, stalking a wide circle in the grass as they attempt to catch a trail, a scent, a sign. The cold stings at their nose, but otherwise they can find nothing; they give up after a brief while of searching, determined not to quit too easily, but also not wanting to spend too long on a fruitless endeavor.

"Can't scent anything under all this..." Their grumble is hushed, frustration coating each rattling word. Their eyes dart to Thistlepaw and Sheeppaw, wondering if either of their apprentices will manage to catch something today; it wouldn’t be so bad if at least one of them were able to bring back prey to the clan. For the time being, they move to regroup with the rest of the patrol. "Great catch," they purr, fixing their mate with warm hazel eyes. They cannot be bothered to feel embarrassed by their open praise; both their apprentices are aware of their relationship with the lead warrior, and they have not felt ashamed of their affection for months.

  • ooc: Rolled a 3, failed to find anything
    apprentice tags @SHEEPPAW @THISTLEPAW !
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  • GRAVELSNAP ❯❯ they/he, moor runner of windclan
    average-sized black and white warrior who seems smaller than he is. speaks rarely and quietly.
    mate to periwinklebreeze ; sibling to slateheart
    mentoring sheeppaw & thistlepaw ; formerly mentored thriftfeather
    peaceful and healing powerplay is allowed, but they hate physical contact & will lash out if not close friends / family
    penned by foxlore
 
Buckfire's experiences of hunting in leafbare largely consisted of catching stray mice under a cozy, manmade roof or pouncing upon city pigeons scavenging for crumbs on snow-blanketed sidewalks. He knew that sticking close to the twolegs in such dire times was key; wherever they were, food would follow ( if not fresh-kill, then whatever scraps were suitable for feline consumption ). However, out on the moors, tracking prey was proving to be difficult. The hills weren't sprawling with bounties like they had been before; the drop in temperatures had seemingly scared everything off.

The chocolate tabby tom, unfortunately, cannot recognize a scent under all of this frost. Buckfire is certain that it is not due to a lack of skill ( he's not a bad hunter, he doesn't think ) but the conditions today were less than ideal. "I can't get a whiff of anything, either." The moor runner heaves a sigh, lifting his head and glancing toward the rest of the patrol. It seemed that Periwinklebreeze had a stroke of luck, earning himself a rabbit.

"Not bad." Buckfire comments, though he cannot help the twinge of envy that claws his chest. He wanted to catch something, too.

  • roll: 5, no prey found
    points: 0
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    — buckfire / 33 moons / he/him pronouns
    — windclan moor runner / former loner
    — sh chocolate tabby w/ orange eyes, bite marks on left foreleg, nick in left ear & scratch on right side of lip
    click for tags
 

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖  It feels like time is closing in on Vulturepaw. Still, she has not made a single proper catch. Three moons of apprenticeship, and all she has to show for it are some measly plover's eggs.

Frost creeps into the corners of camp, and her heart only races faster and faster. WindClan will starve soon, the older cats say in all but words. Hushed whispers, fearful glances at the ice coating the corners of camp. He remembers starvation only vaguely. In the fire, when prey was scarce and he was still to be fed first. Worse in DuskClan, surrounded by thin-bellied cats with little care for the skittering kitten who had been stolen away to their camp. It was brief, his few days in the barren scrublands - but he can all to easily imagine WindClan becoming just as miserable.

The clock is ticking, and the prey pile grows thinner by the day.

Vulturepaw is determined, as the cold claims more and more of the moors, to not keep trailing after his father empty-pawed. Periwinklebreeze breaks off, padding quietly after the scent of rabbit. Their gut twists at the flash of brown fur through grass stalks, thinking of all the catches slipped through their claws. But - they're improving, they have to be. They have keep their clan fed somehow, not just sit around wasting prey.

There - a flash of gray catches their eye.

Vulturepaw sets off running without a moment's hesitation.

The world narrows to just their heartbeat and the rush of wind through prickly fur. The cold stings at their eyes, tearing up - but the fleeting form is dusty enough to remain in focus, lit by the hazy rays of dawn. Closer, closer he chases it, and soon he's pushing off the slippery ground, careening wildly though the air.

Earthen paws collide with the hare, shoving its body to the ground. It scrambles to get away, whiskers twitching wildly, but Vulturepaw's maw parts to reveal sharp fangs. He lunges towards its throat, quick as a viper, and feels the sweet taste of blood on his tongue.

After a moment, he lets the body of the hare fall limply to the ground.

His first catch. Looking down at the creature's lifeless eyes, Vulturepaw feels a little queasy. It's his first time taking a life, and he cannot help but think of Nightingalecry's torn open throat. He steps back. "I... I d-d-did it," he announces weakly, angling his ears back to the rest of his patrol. His chest heaves with heavy breathes.

This is a good thing, he tells himself, pushing past the nausea. A shaky smile creeps tentatively across their maw, uncertain and half-hearted. The kits be well fed, at least for a little bit.

  • PREY ROLL: 11 (success)
    SIZE ROLL: 19 (hare)
    POINTS: 3
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    "SPEECH"
  • VULTUREPAW he / any, apprentice of windclan, eight moons.
    a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
    skittish and dour, with a superstitious sort of pessimism.
    micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze.
    sibling to dustpaw, bilberrypaw, mourningpaw and weepingpaw.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNIDsaturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 
She startles. Vulturepaw takes off after a blur of brown against their paling landscape, and lingering near both Gravelsnap and Buckfire, the apprentice simply watches. Periwinklebreeze has caught something, too - the young apprentice's father tugs along something with too tall ears and a cotton bud for a tail. And the apprentice... takes down a hare. Perhaps not with expert precision, but with enough fervor that it stops kicking before long.

Her own ear twitches, signaling her return to her own body as she swallows the deep despair and grief that lit a flame in her chest. In time, she knows. In time teeth will find her throat and tear her in two. It's life. She detests it, fears it, but it's life.

She cannot scent anything with the frost heavily lain across the ground. Her tail twitches as she moves along, sniffing the air pitifully in the hope that she may find a mouse or a wayward songbird. Bunnypaw does not - she hardly puts real effort into trying.

[ rolled a nine :( ]
 

Is it her nerves that get the best of her? Worry that this frost might be more than the fluke she proclaimed only grows with each paw-step set forward against the icebound moors, grows into something louder than the objective in front of her. A hunting patrol — Sparrowbreeze should be experienced enough by now to be able to track down a hare in cold weather, but when she tries...

Stars, all she can think of is this weather continuing — of it getting worse, rather than better. They need all the prey they can get now, they need all the strength they can get, and yet...

And yet she's unable to find anything. All she can gather is the scent of cold air, the inhale cool against her lungs. Reluctantly, the moor-runner returns back to the group, her head ducking down at the lot of them.

" Nothing, " Sparrowbreeze murmurs, though when she finds herself brave enough to look up at her hunting group, she finds she's not completely alone. It's a mix of feelings at the sight — relief that she's not alone in her blunder is blanketed with further concern. Why had her group struggled so much? She shakes off the dread, a congratulatory nod towards those who managed to find prey given instead. At least something was found between them.
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// rolled a 5 :/ ​
 



All he had known for five moons was the darkness of the Nursery and the daylight that so often crept in. Being a fish out of water so long had been a regrettable sacrifice when becoming a father, but as much as he longed once more for the secrecy of the Tunnels, he had yet to be appointed a patrol to search underground. He'd taken matters into his own paws, following Periwinklebreeze's hunting patrol, fatigue lining the corners of his eyes at the newness of WindClan's schedule once more. The Nursery had bulked him up and granted him sanctuary from laws, he would miss the luxury of Queendom, he would not miss the inhabitants whose own sanctuary seemed too unbelievable to him.

Bodies move in the distance, some snapping thin air or standing lost, others hauling prey back towards a central point. He blinked fervently until his eyes narrowed to serpentine pupils. 'I am a Tunneler above ground who has not hunted in moons, and I can do better than you.'

And so, he did.

Where the tom traveled to grab his kill was of little consequence, for the grasses were long enough to conceal all of prey and most of him. It had been surprise for both mouse and tom when they had stumbled upon each other, but with a hunter's ferocity, Sootspot slapped the rodent. He leapt after the creature and sunk his teeth into its throat in one gesture, nostrils flaring as its blood coated his teeth. Not a meal fit for him, but someone would enjoy it.

Sootspot stood on his toes, head poking out of the dried heathers, a smile upon his lips.

// rolled a 12 for finding prey, rolled a 2 for size (+1 point)

 
With the frost creeping up in the once - sandy hollow of camp, hearing hushed whispers of older cats talk about how Windclan will starve soon. All the fearful glances paired with the ice forming in places in camp. He had glanced at the minuscule fresh-kill pile when passing by to join the hunting patrol with his mentor. Windclan is in a miserable spot.

Sheeppaw turns his head around at the frost - claimed moorlands, he will not go back to camp empty - pawed. He flicks an ear in boredom, as he glances at Periwinklebreeze breaking off the group, going after a rabbit. The rest of the patrol spreads out, he lets the breeze catch against his downy coat, ruffling it even more than usual.

The apprentice departs from the group, off to hunt by himself with a swish of his plumed tail. He tilts his head down, the cold stings his nose as his breath bellows in front of him in small puffs. She perks up at the scent of a mouse nearby quickly crouching down— her pale underbelly touching the cold ground. She suppresses a shiver before she's off through the grass stalks with a huff. There! The wind rushes through her fur, as she waits for a moment before leaping at her distracted prey.

Her eyes stings as she touches down, charcoal - dusted paws collid with the mouse. It's panicked squeaks silenced with a snap of the neck, between teeth. The taste of blood sings on her tongue. A moment passes before she's on her paws with her catch. The lanky tom turns around to head back to the patrol, ears perked and swivel toward Vulturepaw's weak announcement of catching something. Curious as he is... he roams after to the dark tabby. His eyes widen, he speaks– words muffled from around the mouse he held in his jaws. "N'ce catch Vulturepaw!" He is quite surprised at the younger apprentice catching a hare.
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:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·: breezepaw did not like hunting up here, her efforts felt in vain. she spent half the patrol praying to starclan that her mentor would watch her struggle and relent to the tunnels, much to the chimera's disdain they must not have been listening.

she cannot catch a firm scent. for a moment breezepaw believes herself to be close, but all she smells is cold. a frown creases her maw deeper with each begrudging step. it was an impossible task, she decided. a raised head determines that bunnypaw had also found nothing whilst their clanmates prospered. perhaps the two girls were simply condemned by blood.

breezepaw joins her sister's flank, flicking it with the white tip of her tail as a show of support. her hope is that with two sets of eyes they'd be successful, but no matter what prey seems to detest the topsoil presence of rattleheart's daughters.
  • OOC ✧ rolled 8, can't catch a scent

  • BREEZEPAW SHE/HER, WINDCLAN APPRENTICE, 8 ☾.
    a small, yet leggy longhaired blue point chimera with icy eyes and a long tail.
    rattleheart x venomstrike / / littermate to thistlepaw, bunnypaw, splinterpaw, and crunchypaw.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ battle info
    penned by vayle@vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
The patrol scatters and so does Cricketcry, roaming through frost-laden paths as he attempts to find any sign of prey- but his usually keen nose comes up with nothing. Despite all his attempts to become more acclimated to patrols aboveground, the chimera still feels prickles of unease clouding his mind. He's sure the familiar prodding of his anxiety must be worse now that all his attention is focused upon being of use to the clan during their preparations. Cricketcry decides he must cease his search, there's not even so much as a ghostly scent of prey- indicating to Cricketcry he'll return to camp empty-handed.

As he pivots on his heel to regroup with Periwinklebreeze and the rest of the clan. Several fox-lengths away Cricketcry hears the faint squeal of a rodent and he trails his gaze towards where it came from. A scowl clouds his features immediately as he sees Sootspot was able to capture a mouse. His lip twitches upwards in dismay as he becomes irked with the smug smile upon his face. He's sure Sootspot will notice he has nothing to provide the clan with.