GLORY OF THE SNOW [ rough hunting ]

stormpaw

stormpaw

✿✿✿
Apr 25, 2024
23
2
3
( ✿ ) sunlight filters weakly through heavy clouds, a cold breeze whistling amongst skeletal branches as the patrol pads through the territory. there is a darkness in the day despite the sun, a creeping chill that haunts the apprentice's shadow, slithering along her spine while she keeps close to her mentor. bright, dual-hued eyes flit from one tree to another, observing the sparkling frost that glitters there. beneath white-dappled paws, similar frost crunches, a fascinating sound, but one stormpaw has quickly come to associate with hunger and despair.

thankfully, skyclan's woods seem clear of beasts for now - she's heard stories of wild foxes and starving badgers attacking her clanmates for their prey. there is no such predator scent scent on the breeze, but unfortunately, prey seems just as absent. stormpaw dips her head to the ground, snuffling at the scattered tracks that break up the rime strewn grasses. "has all the prey gone into hiding already?" she wonders aloud, ears flattening. if such were the case, how would skyclan manage? their daylight warriors could certainly bring twoleg food back from their nests, but she doubts many of her wildborn clanmates would appreciate it. worry fills the emerald and sky hued eyes and she glances over at her mentor, brow furrowing.


ALWAYS AN ANGEL ✿ NEVER A GOD
  • // casual hunting thread! mentor tag @LUPINESONG <3 rolled a 15 (no predator encounter), and then an 8 (no prey scent). "#758ba4"
  • 85862893_x1kRh0Q0Manhp5f.png
  • STORMPAW ✿ SHE / HER, APPRENTICE OF SKYCLAN. MENTORED BY LUPINESONG. SISTER TO RICEPAW, DOGWOODPAW. 9 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
    85048359_wnRmTz7bql2wF7S.png
    blue tabby with low white and blue/green heterochromia a long-furred blue feline with darker blue curling stripes that splash across her chest, flanks and tail. white floods the fur around her neck, the tip of her tail, stomach, and paws. dual hued eyes of sky and forest make her pretty in an innocent way, and her body is small and lithe, although her fluffy fur makes her look larger.
​
 
Tiny crystals of frost cling to the torbie point's limbs and tail, the fuzz in between his toes helping his paw pads resist the frozen earth that he trod upon. Still, it is cold; far much more than he's used to, anyway. It's also much more difficult to hunt as most of the prey has gone into hiding. Lionpaw supposes that it's understandable to want to shield oneself from the bitter winds, but this was not good for SkyClan. His belly pangs with hunger as he has not been eating like he used to.

Perhaps their empty belly is the reason why their luck has been so sore with tracking prey. Lionpaw is not the only apprentice to come up short on this patrol; Stormpaw, too, cannot seem to catch a scent. The chocolate-pointed tom's tail twitches, an expression of exasperation brewing on their features though they opt to act rather than stand around and pout. "I'm going to look over there." They murmur to the others before padding off in another direction with hopes of having a strike of luck.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄
​
​
 
bloomfur blinks through the chill making her face hurt. her nose shoves itself into her chest fur, already given up on finding anything to bring back. it's just too cold. why would the prey walk around in this cold weather? knowing that everyone would give her the stink eye if she loitered around, the molly shuffles away to at least try.

maybe a rodent will fall into her lap. or a mouse will have it's tiny paw stuck and she can smack it while it's down. the molly's ears flick, her nose twitches, and she focuses. zen… waiting so patiently, until her head whips when she ears a tiny crunch tail-lengths away. bloomfur crouches, and crawls, leaping pre-maturely on a shrew. the warrior scuffles awkwardly with the poor thing, finishing it off with a sloppy bite to it's neck. she makes her way back over, letting the mangled thing dangle by the tail. it flaps in the wind. uncomfortably. "found uhm… one thing."

rolled a 19, 1 +1 poopy shrew
❀
Click to expand...

​
 
At least someone is having some success... Edenberry can't remember the last time they actually got their claws into something, much less a strong enough scent to pretend they were close. They skirt down the rough bark of the trees, scraping some along the way as they land roughly on the ground. Bloomfur has something tiny, but it will be enough to keep someone from starving.

They're glad in this moment that their meals are guaranteed and that they do not have to siphon off resources from their clan-mates who so sorely need it. "It's alright... don't blame yourselves," the bi-colored warrior mews, looking to the disheartened younger cats with a tight smile.

Lionpaw doesn't seem reassured... stalking off to go search elsewhere. They sigh, "I couldn't scent anything in the trees... the birds are quiet..."

// rolled a 6 :(
⟡₊ ⊹ i ll betray you like a man
  • eeb-banner.png
  • -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 18 moons
    -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back
    -- color #728c69
 
Untitled94-20240912162309.webp

IF THE POINT'S TO NEVER DISAPOINT YOU, SOMEBODY'S GOT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO​

"Couldn't find anything hiding near the roots, either." noted the chimera as he made his way over to join Edenberry and the others. He'd been hoping for an easy leafbare this year-- or at least as close to one as you could get-- but of course that'd been too much to ask. The frost was already chasing everything underground, and it was hard not to let his annoyance bleed through to his expression. Winter pampered no cat, but Quillstrike wasn't looking for things to get even worse.

"If this is leaf-fall, I'm not looking forward to what comes in the next few moons."

One piece of prey between five cats. It would be brutal, with not enough food or warmth to go around. He'd seen cats drop dead in the heat before, and he wondered grimly if he'd now see them starve or freeze in their nests as well. Would that be more merciful than the plague-like sicknesses?

How many scars would Twitchbolt give him for trying to drag him away from it all, to someplace more liveable?

Not enough to stop him from trying, if it came down to it.

"Should we push closer to twolegplace? There's usually something sniffing around their trash." he asked, mismatched eyes glancing at the rest of his patrolmates for their thoughts. As loud and dangerous as twoleg place was, it somehow remained teeming with all kinds of life- dumb pigeons, mice and rats in peoples rubbish bins-- hell, some of them even had pet rabbits in pens in their yards. Quillstrike wasn't above expanding their hunting grounds in that direction if it kept their group fed.

OOC- rolled a 4, couldn't pick up a scent trail!

​
skyclan - male - 31 months (Feb 17th) - Twitchbolts mate - a very tall, muscular chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.

08-04-quill-1.png
 
Hunting had never been his strong suit. Over the moons he had gotten better with the help of his mate Owlheart, but he still had leagues to go. He was better when it came to birds, but prey that bore no wings? For some reason that was beyond difficult for him.

There's one thing he's grateful of. Even as his belly pangs with hunger, he is grateful for the long fur he had been blessed with. The howling winds left a chill, yet in the crevices of his mind he was fully aware that had been blessed with short fur, in this moment he would be suffering more than ever. His eyes linger to his mentor and younger brother, noting the faint trembling from the cold. Just hold on for a little longer.

Hopes quickly become dashed when he can't pick up a scent of any kind. Bloomfur is able to catch a shrew, it's not much. It wouldn't be enough to feed a warrior, but kits? Are they alright? He is pulled from his thoughts, by the ache in his belly. That's right. He has a job to do first and as much as he could look upon Bloomfur's catch in jealousy, it will do nothing for them. He faintly hears his brother's remark, not bothering to answer. Lionpaw has grown. Besides, it isn't as if Crowsight wouldn't have an eye on him.

"By the rate we've caught anything, I'd say it wouldn't hurt to push closer to the twoleg place," he answers Quillstrike. What the other warrior says holds merit. Indeed, they are more likely to find something to eat closer to the twoleg place. He remembers many moons when Johnnyflame had brought some kittypet food and he devoured it. Now, he wouldn't outwardly suggest they steal it, but if worse came then a lot of them would have to suck up their pride and eat kittypet food for survival.

rolled a 7 :( Can't find a scent trail under all of the frost
Click to expand...
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STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME​
for all that he is good for, the frost makes it impossible to find even the easiest of scent trails. he can't find a thing. he swears he's gonna freeze his whiskers off out here and there's nothing he can do about it. his tail twitches as he shiver, letting out a breath of cold air with slight frustration, but mostly with himself. no one else really seems to be finding much, and even the small things they are finding aren't great. his ear flicks for a moment before he only just decides that he is giving up. he can't find a thing. he sniffles, and even that hurts with the frost crawling right up his nose. he swears he can feel ice forming up there.

"n-no use... it's t-too cold..."

they might as well pack it all up now, shouldn't they? no point in even being here anymore.

// rolled a 6! no scent found!
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What babies.

He couldn't help but scoff as he lurked from above, his paws shuffling before leaping from one tree limb to another, his reddish painted fur a sore thumb on the ground. So he'd settle with the red trees, well, at least what was left of them. His gaze of fire and ice molting against his fur as he glared down at the rest of the patrol.

He would've said something, if it wasn't for a large black bird paused a little ways from the rest of the patrol. A small growl erupted from the apprentices chest, slithering his way through the limbs, before nestling down lower as he stared down the prey. It was huge , and the raven would watch as a black beady eye cautiously watched the patrol.

Wings would suddenly flap, and he'd take his chance, barreling forward as he leaned from the trees, catching the creature mid air. A loud squawk escaped the creature, it's wings flapping. But Foxglovepaw was always relentless, claws tearing deep into its wings as they tumbled across the undergrowth before his teeth would embed deep into its flesh.

The Somali would lift his tail and head in pride as his split eyes gleamed. With now a heavy creature to carry, he brought it back to the patrol. " Maybe if you didn't spend so much time yapping, maybe you would've seen him mere foxlengths from you all." The sour apprentice grumbled through feathers, eyes glinting the challenge in his tone though.

It was well known surely, that he was not the kindest cat around.
@DUSKPOOL mentor tag//
19 prey roll, 20 prey size, +3//
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Sillybreeze tries to block out the sounds of Foxglovepaw's showy catch, her whiskers twitching with a flicker of frustration. "Might as well find my own," she mutters, though her belly growls louder than her determination. Brushing past a frost-covered bush, she lifts her nose, sniffing for the faintest trace of something edible. Yet the cold air bites at her nose, and each inhale feels like swallowing ice. Her whiskers twitch as she strains to catch a scent—any scent—that might lead to prey. She lowers her body, moving with careful, practiced steps to avoid crunching the frost-crusted leaves beneath her paws. Her gaze darts left and right, eyes narrowing as she imagines spotting something small and scurrying in the undergrowth. But the forest is eerily still, and each patch of ground she inspects reveals only bare twigs and fallen leaves. She huffs softly, trying to keep her discouragement at bay. The frost has driven nearly everything into hiding, and even the tiniest creatures seem to have vanished.

Despite her mounting frustration, she presses on, prowling through the undergrowth in search of the faintest flicker of movement. Sillybreeze's ears perk as she hears a faint rustle nearby, her heart jumping with hope. She creeps forward, lowering herself, only to discover it's just a stray leaf, shivering in the wind. Her ears droop slightly, and she fights off the creeping sense of defeat as she scans the area one last time. The landscape is bleak, the cold unrelenting, and she can feel her paws stiffening against the frozen ground. "This cold has all the prey hiding, it seems," she sighs under her breath, casting one last longing glance at the patch of frostbitten earth. She's never been the best hunter, but today, it feels impossible. Reluctantly, she makes her way back to the patrol, empty-pawed but trying to hide her disappointment.

[ rolled a 6 ]​
 
❀‿ Lupinesong hums sympathetically as her apprentice snuffles to no avail against the rime-ridden floor of the forest. It really is a bummer, Leafbare deciding to rear its ugly face so early… Lupinesong hoped that it meant it would leave early too, but she was wise enough to keep any speculation to the confines of her own head. They wouldn't know until it happened, of course, it'd be silly to pretend she'd know otherwise.

"It sure seems like it, huh?" She murmured alongside the grey-striped molly, eyes fixed upon the dappled ceiling of grey sky and dark branches. A flutter of movement, far enough off that it was a gamble to follow after it, should it have been just a bird passing overhead without roosting. Though… It wasn't like they were having the best of luck here… "I'll be right back, keep at it," she parts with a look back over her shoulder before she runs off toward that slim chance of a meal for those back at home.

Lupinesong thanks her lucky stars a few minutes later, gazing up at a preening crow sat on a low branch of a young pine. The warrior scales a nearby cypress, claws digging into chilled bark, and crouches. Her leap is practiced and easy, long limbs stretching to catch awkward half-flapping wings and pinning the dark-feathered bird beneath her.

The hardest part about tree-hunting was more in the landing than in the pounce itself, you had to catch the bird between fatal jaws swiftly to get all four paws back beneath you and keep yourself from tumbling down from a branch alongside your food…

Lupinesong righted herself steadily on the branch with only one near-slip of a paw, but she had only just stilled the flutter of adrenaline by the time she came trotting back to the group with her catch.

It looked like only a few of her clanmates had as much luck as she did, she almost felt sheepish about depositing her crow alongside the single shrew and raven caught so far. Her return was far from the display of Duskpool's newest, rowdiest apprentice, that was for sure… "I hope you're feeling cheerier when you get to bring that back to the queens and kittens…" She comments, raising a brow at Foxglovepaw's willingness to badmouth their entire patrol, but only glances back at Duskpool. He was a senior warrior, he must have had like moons and moons of experience dealing with attitudey apprentices, she'd let him handle him himself.

Back to the group, she cocks her head thoughtfully, and agrees, "Ah, yes, I'm sure there's more to be found over by the twolegplace. " The mood overall is so… gloomy, though. Boo…

She remained on her paws, ready to start heading out, "Chins up, we'll be coming back with plenty for the clan!"

She'd be making sure of that, at the very least. But everyone else was trying their best too, right?

LOVE ME MORE, ⊹₊°❀‿ LOVE ENOUGH TO DROWN ME OUT.
  • OOC: rolled a 17, found prey ! and a 14, large prey, worth 3 pts.
  • cpj5ve.png
  • — lupinekit . lupinepaw . lupinesong
    — trans she/her. 19mo warrior of skyclan. formerly mentored by dandelionwish, mentoring stormpaw, it's complicated
    — doeblaze x duke. littermate to crowsight & drowsynose. older half-sister of hollypaw, lionpaw, and candorpaw
    — a tall, pretty, long-haired black smoke with low white and green eyes
    — smells like sweet lupine flowers and young pine needles
    — "speech", thoughts, attack
    — fullbody by pikaihao and funnyguy by pin
    — penned by eezy
​
 

There's always a few crows hanging about Twolegplace, in Wolfgrin's experience. He used to envy them; they almost seemed like they enjoyed dumpster diving. Lupinesong's success emboldens him, his eyes flitting up and down the scraggly black feathers of the dead crow for a moment before setting off in the right direction without waiting. He'll find them once he's caught something, or given up on trying.

It isn't a crow that he finds just out of earshot of the others, but a pheasant. Wolfgrin's mouth waters. StarClan, it's huge. Between this, Lupinesong's crow and Foxglovepaw's raven, the Clan should eat well for at least a few days. His leg twinges as he crouches and starts to creep forward, the cold seeping into the tired muscles where they'd once been torn open, but he grits his teeth and ignores it.

It doesn't trip him up, thank goodness. The pheasant tries to take off and dies mid-air, brought back down to earth under Wolfgrin's weight with its neck in his punishing jaws. The tortoiseshell rises with his catch, feeling pride and relief warming his bones, and drags it back to the patrol. "Got lucky," he hums in a show of humility, dropping the bird's neck in order to speak, but he can't help the tiny smile of satisfaction that tugs at his mouth.
‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── hiding from the sunshine ⋆⋅☽♡☾⋅⋆ wandering in the shade ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
  • /rolled an 18 to catch, and a 19 for size! +3 points
  • 89878440_J4Y56cdFvqNpoxf.png
    Click to expand...
  • WOLFGRIN ☾ he/him, warrior of skyclan, thirty-seven moons
    ⭃ a tall, disheveled chocolate smoke tortoiseshell with orange eyes. he displays oddly dog-like qualities, even smelling faintly like a dog after growing up with them on a farm. his smug, careless, smooth-talking outer persona masks a heart of gold. though the safety of a clan serves his interests well, he is more inclined to loyalty to individuals rather than clans. after the death of his mate, flamefeather, he's begun to privately question starclan.
    ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
    ⭃ penned by solaire ↛ @funeralscythe on discord, feel free to ping for plots.

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the dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn't. my guilt will not purify me.​
"Foxglovepaw." Duskpool rumbled — deep and guttural sounding as he came to stand beside his grandchild and apprentice, wooly plumage sweepin' against the ground, collectin' who knows what. It'll be a pain to pull out, but he ain't all concerned about that now when somethin' unsettlin' pooled hot through his icy veins. Kid's got a mouth, ain't he? He breathed a weary sigh, molten copper narrowin'.

His joints were hurtin' bad this time, barely able to get a paw step before his bones creaked and groaned like he'd walked through fire, burnin' the sensitive nerves, makin' him slow and off-steady. Damn bones gettin' the best of me in this blasted weather. His scarred lips curled in a frown, barely noticeable beneath the dark obsidian hue of his fur.

"Let's go." He ordered the troublesome apprentice, tone leavin' no room for argument with the way it rolled thunderously. head jerkin' away from the patrol, decidin' it wasn't worth embarrassing the kid and makin' the damn thing worse when he could easily tell the kid off one-on-one as they were headin' to camp to deliver Foxglovepaw's catch to the queens and kits.
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my bones are smoldering ✦ and my knuckles are bloody
  • ooc —— xxx
  • release me from my promise to you. don't make me do this anymore. don't make me go on without you

    — unknown
  • duskpool he/him
    ♡ a massive scarred obsidian-smoked ghost makeral tabby maine coon / norwegian forest mix w/ molten copper eyes and low-white
    ♡ warrior of skyclan
    ♡ sixty moons; ages on the 1st of every month
    ♡ speech thought attack
    ♡ peaceful + healing powerplay permitted

    penned by blueblossomtea​
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