Grand Hunt || Successful hunt....After a whole day.

[Rushwind]

Leafbare was coming, and with so many sick cats and so many cats off on a journey, Rushwind was taking it upon himself to hunt more. Sure, it hurt his paws, but he had to carry on. Cats were depending on him to bring back prey, and so he's been working harder than he had before. He's been out days at a time sometimes, determined to only come back if he has something to give. He can't let Skyclan go hungry just because his paws hurt! He can handle the pain just fine.

Today was another such day where his luck was low. He hasn't caught a trail since he started... And he started this morning!! His paws ached and begged him to rest, and while he took short breaks to sit and listen to the forest, he was still empty pawed. He was always lucky when it came to food, though! He refused to believe there wasn't anything around... And so, into the afternoon, he stalked the pine forest until finally, as the sun was beginning it's descent, he caught the scent of a squirrel. Tired eyes were suddenly rejuvenated with energy as he crept closer to his target.

He couldn't mess this up. He HAD to catch this squirrel It wasn't as plump as he'd like it to be, but it was something! And with luck on his side, he was able to spring forth and catch it, sinking his teeth into it much the way a dog would. His clawed paw dug into it's pelt, and he quickly finished it off with a powerful bite. Mallowlark's advice was serving him well! Now he could return to camp with something. And so he did, on aching paws.

He entered the camp and promptly made for the fresh kill pile, desperate to get off his feet. Putting the squirrel on it, he padded a short distance away to lay down and finally rest. He groaned to himself. "My paws hurt so baaad..... I couldn't move another inch if I wanted toooo!" He complained to no one in particular.​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Twitchbolt was often fringing around camp, attention darting as fickle as a wasp to every conversation he could possibly overhear- any gossip or plot or... lie, anything anyone could be hiding. He'd never slip a secret, but... for the safety of himself and SkyClan, it was best to know as much as you possibly could.

As Rushwind's voice rose into the fray, Twitchbolt's attention settled upon a cleanly-caught squirrel, a surely new addition to the fresh-kill stock. And- then, then he remembered it had been the morning since he'd last seen the tom. Had he been hunting all day? That was the sort of perseverance he could see getting someone killed of exhaustion. It'd been an issue with Duskpool, definitely... oh, he'd have to keep an eye on this one. Caution never rested...

Still, he was in good temperament when he padded over to the tom, a shaky but genuine smile on mahogany features. "I think you've- you've earned it," he observed, shuddering at the thought of how much Rushwind's paws must be aching.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[Badgermoon]

Badgermoon could certainly understand being so tired you felt unwilling - or unable - to move. He knew that feeling all too well, as most warriors surely did. At the moment, though, his exhaustion was of a different type, and while his body did ache, it was for lack of movement rather than an overabundance of it. Being stuck in a hole was not a particularly comfortable experience, but it was a far sight better than what he felt he deserved - and, frankly, it was better than what he had expected. At least in their prisoner pit he could still see the sky, and feel the breath of the wind on his whiskers. If he had been trapped within one of their dens or forced to huddle beneath the looming branches of an evergreen...well, suffice to say he was grateful for what accommodations he and Curlewnose had received, especially considering they had brought nothing to SkyClan but their blood and a (true) story.

The black and white tom's head lifted from where it rested on his forepaws as a voice rose above the muffled clamor of the camp. He had been observing a beetle march slowly from one end of their dirt pit to another, and had been idly considering killing and eating it, when Rushwind's lament drew his attention. Glancing to Curlewnose and quirking his brows, inviting the ex-tunneler to investigate with him, Badgermoon placed his forepaws against the crumbly wall of their pit and peered over the edge, scanning the hollow with weay - but curious - yellow eyes. He caught the novel, though recognizable, scent of squirrel, and took note of a tired-looking cream SkyClanner with blue eyes. Evidently it had been he who had caught the prey. Badgermoon felt his stomach rumble and tried not to think about the last time he had eaten, nor about how he and his companion were currently drains on SkyClan's prey while providing nothing in return. If only they'd let me out...I could hunt for us...

But he doubted that that would happen anytime soon, if ever. "Good catch." the ex-deputy offered in as calm and respectful a tone as possible, flicking one snow-capped ear in the direction of Rushwind's contribution.

[ @QUILLSTRIKE @Dandelionwish - guard tags! ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

In a brief moment of respite – Dawnglare allows himself a moment away from the sick. It’s ironic – the way that his den has gone form a place of solace, to one of great distress. An impenetrable, gloomy fog lingers there near - permanently now. No matter the success of the journeying’s mission, he wonders if he will truly ever be able to cleanse it from his walls. a sigh is breathed through his nose, that of which rests delicately atop white paws. He still rests somewhat close to his den – unable to afford anything further. He halfheartedly works the bones of a mouse through his teeth, despite not being very hungry at all.

The whining of a young warrior brings his attention. For a split second, he thinks it the genuine, attention needing sort. Russet ears shift and his whiskers twitch in mild concern, but it is nothing. No, it is nothing. Like to the sound of a bell, he lifts his head, but once it is clear what it was, he drifts to shut his eyes once again. Something - something, hunting. Dawnglare’s voice has lost it’s typical goodly weight in favor of a tired rumbling, this past moon. " I can see from here they’re bound to fall off with another few steps… It wouldn’t be a clean severing, either. A shame, " he laments. Untrue, but, whatever. For his mental wellbeing, he ignores the WindClan prisoner in the corner of his vision.

OOC 𓆩♡𓆪 9.16.2023 𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘋𝘐𝘊 𝘚𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘖𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎

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• ( 𝙒𝙃𝙔'𝘿 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝙎𝙊 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙂? ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  —— He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  —— Currently 56 moons old. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  

  You may find him kinder to others than is typical, exhausted from the yellowcough blight and heart heavy in a way he has never felt.​

  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

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