pafp ghost waltz — hunting

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Ain’t gonna find much in this here weather.” He grunted, staring blankly at the lightly falling snow now dotting the landscape in a sea of powdered white. Unconcerned, Duskpool didn’t see the need to pull back toward camp, not when the snow was falling at a snail’s pace, sprinkling across his bulky build like powdered sugar.

With a quiet shake of his pelt, the warrior dislodged the rapidly melting flakes off his form to prowl a few steps ahead, maw parted to suck in the crisp pine that settled warmly in his expanding lungs. Only then did he release it, puffs of smoke clouding his muzzle in brief bouts of warmth. Ain’t nothin’ but the smell of pines. He grunted, turning to Silversmoke. “Best we stick together, can’t be sure if the snowfall will get any worse from here on out.” He rumbled, deadpan. “If we play our sticks right, might get to catchin’ somethin’ bigger.” He finished with a sway of his wooly tail, molten hues flickering to the snow-covered branches.

Molten hues filtered across the foliage, mangled ears swerving on a scarred helm marked by moons worth of fightin’ when he picked up the scent of some land prey, helm jerkin’ in its direction with quivering whiskers. If the lot of ‘em disagreed, then Duskpool sure ain’t gonna stop ‘em from wandering off to chase whatever it was, but with leafbare in full swing, it was safer, but no less dangerous than goin’ out alone in search of whatever else that lived out there to fill their stomachs.

/ please wait for @SILVERSMOKE !​

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thought speech​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

The maine coon hybrid huffed in bereft agreement, tail lashing. Silversmoke had not been assigned hunting patrols in a long while, and for good reason - he was perhaps the unluckiest cat in the clan when it came to prey. It almost seemed like a curse, from diving bluejays to thieving rogues, holding onto a piece of food was near impossible for the spotted tabby, unwittingly, he was beginning to pass on his 'curse' to his apprentice by refusing to make a mockery of himself in front of Crowpaw. Still... he couldn't avoid the job forever, with a thick pelt and respectable endurance against the harshest times, it only made sense for Orangeblossom to try and let him hunt once more. "It's not entirely hopeless, many animals will be hunting, just like us." Eyes briefly widened then fell as he realised his mistake. "And I don't mean foxes or owls, more like... mice, and thrush and... whatever, you get my point." The Lead Warrior shook out his bristling fur and followed suit, pushing his face through the fog that appeared with every breath. When Duskpool spoke again, the silver tom paused, casting the other an understanding look. Not even a winter coat could save them from a blizzard, but...

"I won't ask you to take risks, but we may return empty-pawed if we wait on a hypothetical," the Lead pointed out with half-flattened ears. "Is it better to catch many small things, or one big thing?" Something he could not find an answer to, and never would. Silversmoke's nostrils flared as they caught a scent on the air, looking towards Duskpool to gauge the other's reaction. Sure enough, the tom was true to his word, anticipation evident in his whiskers but paws firmly rooted in place. The Lead Warrior remembered the leaf-fall hunger like it was yesterday, its effects still plaguing his memory. Duskpool could afford to be cautious, Silver did not feel like it was ever an option for him. Wordlessly, he slipped away from his patrol companion, the grey ghost disappearing into the bushes with only the faintest of rustles. A hiss emerged from the other side, not quite catlike, then followed by a squeal. The movement within seemed to grow frantic, clanging branches growing louder and louder until suddenly, they stopped entirely. He re-emerged from the brush, a broken-necked grouse hanging from the tom's jaws.
​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Cherrypaw slinks alongside @SLATE , tail absentmindedly brushing over the surface of the snow gathering in their wake. If there was one thing she liked about snow, it was that it looked pristine as long as nothing touched it. Otherwise, she's finding that she detests Leaf-bare more and more with each passing sunrise, half of which she never even sees on account of the storms plaguing their forest.

She gives the conversation of Silversmoke and Duskpool nothing more than a flick of her ear and a sidelong glance, but it's funny, in a way. She's on a hunting patrol with the biggest and burliest SkyClan has to offer, including her mentor. There's no doubt in her mind that a big cat would catch a big piece of prey. Silversmoke poses a weird question, and she tilts her head. "Many small things. That way you don't have to share," she smoothly answers, letting an impish smirk creep up on her face. The lead warrior disappears soon after, silver pelt melting smoothly into the greyish shadows and sky.

"Wow!" she trills when he returns. "That's, like, one of the biggest dead birds I've ever seen in my life." She feels that it's important to add the "dead" in there. Darkly, she thinks that if she didn't it would've dishonored Little Wolf's memory in some way. "Can you even bury that thing?" she meows, glancing down at the snow. Maybe Silversmoke would just have to return to camp by himself with it. And good riddance if so: she loathes being suspended in whatever tension he and her mentor have.​

 

[QUILLSTRIKE]

'CAUSE IM JUST TRYIN TO KEEP THIS TOGETHER
CUZ I COULD DO WORSE, AND YOU COULD DO BETTER​

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If Quill was honest, he kind of liked the snow.

Not the cold or the wind or any of that extra stuff, but there was something appealing about the almost muted atmosphere that came with a slow, heavy snowfall like today. It was nothing immediately threatening and there was no gusts to send icy shard flinging at their faces, just the gentle, lazy fall of fat snowflakes drifting down to settle on their coats. It was almost as relaxing as staring at a nights sky full of stars, unbroken by clouds or trees, or twoleg things.

Maybe he was distracted by it all, or maybe his skills just weren't sharp enough that day, but in the end the mouse he'd been stalking ended up slipping through his paws and making it to the safety of some nearby tree roots.

Quillstrike straightened with a light scowl, fur ruffled and spiked as he kicked a pile of snow at the tiny hole the critter had escaped through.
​

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skyclan - male - 19 months (Feb 17th) - mates with Twitchbolt <3 - a very tall, dark chimera tomcat with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.