tunnels GONNA GET BIG [hunting]

[FROSTWIND]

꙳•❅* The tunnels are still warm, thankfully. That's the nicest part of being a tunneler, he thinks—he may end up caked in dirt by the end of each day, but at least he doesn't have to trudge through the bone-chilling wind that blows aboveground. He can't see Deathpaw entirely, but he knows she lingers not too far behind him, so the warrior explains his hunting tactics as they walk. "The secret is knowing where every tunnel goes. Your prey can't run that far if they're caught in a dead end." Just as the words leave his mouth, the tom's ears flicker forward. There's sound coming from further down the tunnel—from a dead end.

With a glance at the shadow of Deathpaw's form, the tunneler darts off in the direction of the noise. The scent of rabbit invades his senses, indicating that he's growing closer and closer to the source. In a few heartbeats, the tom has sprinted down the tunnel's length, spotting the slightly-darker silhouette of a hare as he darts straight for it. The frightened prey turns to run, but with a dead end on one side and a WindClan warrior on the other, there's little hope for it to escape. Its life is ended with a single leap and a bite, and he spares only a second to think of StarClan, to thank them for the prey. Sootstar's addition to the warrior code is a mockery, one that makes his nose wrinkle even as he lifts the hare's limp form from the ground. It will fill the belly of a couple warriors, he thinks as he picks his way back to Deathpaw's side.

Pale blue eyes flicker to his apprentice, trying to gauge her confidence in catching her own prey. Will she try it, at least? He still isn't sure exactly how to speak to her, in all honesty. "Thee? Dead end." He displays his catch with a toss of his head, his voice coming out garbled as he tries not to drop it on the ground while speaking at the same time.

YOU ARE FAR TOO NICE ❆ MERCY HAS A PRICE

• ooc: rolled no encounter (12), finds prey (13), hare (19) — 3 points
  apprentice tag @deathpaw
• 
• FROSTWIND ❯❯ he/him, tunneler of windclan
  ❆ scruffy black and white tom with icy eyes. casual and friendly, but jumpy when threatened.
  ❆ son of scorchstreak and badgermoon ; brother to scorchstorm, luckypaw, rumblerain
  ❆ mentor to deathpaw
  ❆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ❆ penned by foxlore

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[SHAGGYDOG]

Shaggydog stands above ground, rough and wary, the wind biting into its fur as it plants itself firmly near the closest tunnel entrance. Every instinct tells it to stay put. The others might be darting after prey in the warmth below, and sure, a hare could fill its belly too, but right now, the thought feels frivolous. Besides, something's got to keep watch topside while the rest hunt in the dark. It shifts its weight, crouching low and narrow against a rocky outcrop, eyes narrowing at the nearby tunnel mouths. A slight dip in the earth ahead marks another tunnel opening, masked by frost-covered grasses. Shaggydog glances between each opening, muscles tensed. Tunnelers may be safe down there, but WindClan needs more than food to survive; it needs security. And with most of the others gone underground, the last thing it wants is some sneaky fox or rogue slipping past, catching them unaware.

The air feels colder with every passing heartbeat, and the scent of prey grows faint, mingled with the earth and the faint, lingering trace of its clanmates. Shaggydog's ears swivel back, catching distant sounds of pawsteps, but it dismisses them. They can handle themselves down there, it thinks. Frostwind and Deathpaw will be fine; the warrior's training and the focus he has will be enough to see him through. Neither of them need Shaggydog hovering. The wind howls, cutting across the open moor, making it shiver involuntarily. Shaggydog's nose wrinkles as it scents the air for any whiff of intruder or threat, claws flexing into the earth. Why should warmth matter? It's irritation with itself more than anything. A warrior's strength lies in endurance, not comfort. Life out here is about the bitter cold, the endless wind, and knowing what risks are worth it—and this one's clear. It's going to be freezing up here, but better that than some fox slinking through and surprising the ones below.

[ rolled a 1 </3 no prey ]​

 

[MAELSTROMPAW]

Maelstrompaw pads through the tunnel, the faint scent of earth and rock filling their senses. Unlike the open moor, the walls here seem to hold a quiet warmth, wrapping them in a cozy stillness, sheltered from the biting wind above. Yet, as much as the warmth soothes them, they can't help but feel a prickle of unease gnawing at their paws. Their paws are silent as they step carefully along the compacted dirt, ears perked and eyes straining in the dim light, desperately hoping for the faintest hint of prey. They try to remember their mentor's advice—Anticipate what might happen. Think of the way prey might move, how it would search for ways to escape. But as they tread further in, the only sound is their own quiet breathing, echoing softly against the tunnel walls. They quicken their pace a little, hoping that the movement will stir something out of hiding, but the silence around them only grows heavier, pressing in from all sides.

Maelstrompaw's ears swivel as they pause, crouching low and holding their breath, hoping to catch even the slightest shuffle or rustle. The tension builds as they scan the shadows ahead, trying to peer around bends in the tunnel. But there's nothing. Not a whisker's twitch, not a single scent in the air other than the musty dampness of the underground. They feel a slight pang of disappointment, and a bit of frustration nips at the edges of their mind. They shake it off, focusing harder, inching along on light paws. Another few paces, another few moments of breathless silence, and still no sign of anything alive. They press onward, lowering themselves until their belly brushes the cool dirt, alert for any vibration, any sign. But it's as if the whole tunnel is devoid of life, leaving them alone in an echoing hollow.

As the moments stretch into what feels like an eternity, Maelstrompaw finally lets out a quiet, frustrated huff. This was supposed to be simple—just a hare or a rabbit, something to catch and bring back proudly. Instead, they're left with nothing but the empty tunnel and their own dampening spirits. They dig their claws into the ground, a flicker of irritation sparking. Why couldn't they even catch a hint of scent? It takes them a few breaths to regain control, quelling the simmering disappointment. There's no point in getting upset; prey is never a guarantee. But still, they can't shake the lingering frustration as they turn back, retracing their steps slowly. It's not so much hunger that bothers them—it's the failure, the thought that maybe they've missed something crucial. Maybe they weren't quiet enough, or maybe they're just not cut out for hunting in the tunnels. Maybe they're meant to fail.

When they finally make their way back to where they started, their head hangs a little lower, paws heavier with the weight of missed opportunity. They take a final, long inhale, filling their senses with the warm, earthy scent of the tunnel, grounding themselves. They'll try again next time. Maybe, with practice, they'll start to catch the nuances of hunting.

[ rolled another 1........ ]​

 

[Daisywatcher.]

THE CORVIDS ARE CALLING
WARNING THE FOREST A PREDATORS APPROACHING​

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daisywatcher & 22 moons & feminine & she/they/it & windclan tunneler ​

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Daisywatcher has no apprentice to speak to, no set of smaller paws trailing along behind her searching for advice. Some days, it's a fact she bemoans - and others, rejoices. Today, it seems to work well in her favor - the molly keeping close enough to the patrol to stay safe, and yet only worrying about her partner as she delved further beneath the surface, jaws arted. Two-toned eyes flash within the darkness, tail flicking excitedly at a familiar scent - a gesture sending her and her fellow tunneler down separate paths. Ears perk, muscles tense - and there it is, there- the sound of pawsteps thundering her way. The hare doesn't stand a chance, legs sliding across the floor of the tunnel in a futile attempt to change directions, but pinned between the wtwo warriors it takes only a moment before fangs sink home. Trotting back over, chest-puffed in pride, the dirt-streaked molly gives a wry grin as she all but shows off, tossing her own bit of advice the moment her jaws are free once more. " Oooooor you can just team up - ambush your prey towards your partner, " If they are never to stray too far from help, might as well make use of it, no?

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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A M - I - I N - D A N G E R - ━ - O R - A M - I - T H E - T H R E A T - ?

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// 20 - finds prey easily | 17 - large prey (hare) | points: 3