private HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN — windclan search patrol

[BLUEFROST]

There is no scentline to tell the WindClan patrol when they have crossed over into unknown territory, but Bluefrost finds it unnecessary. The gilded moorland grasses have thinned into scrub, and the earth is hot and dusty under her paws. She tastes the air, hoping to taste blood, a recently-passed by patrol, anything, but there's naught but dry air thick with dust. She snaps her jaws closed, frustration beginning to foam beneath her coat. She twists around, looking first at her older brother, then at Foxglare. "Let me know if you scent anything suspicious." Her lips tighten. "We will not return to camp without Vulturekit."

She had debated on whether or not to bring Brackenpaw, but ultimately, she believes it to be necessary. She turns to her tortoiseshell-and-white apprentice and gives her a piercing stare. Her tone is grave when she speaks to them. "Stay close to one of the warriors. Do not let your guard down. You will look for anything telling—kit-scent, blood spilled on the ground, scraps of fur caught in the shrubs. . ." She trails off, her thoughts darkening, turning morbid. Surely they would not harm our young. They need them alive. . .don't they?

As she searches, her mind wanders. Thriftfeather had told her about Granitepelt and his warriors—his followers, slimy as any ShadowClan cat now—were stealing kits from their mothers and indoctrinating them into his cult. Perhaps their nursery should have had better guards. Bluefrost winces as a gust of wind tugs at her silver-dusted coat. Should I have seen this coming?

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: patrol: @SOOTSPOT @FOXGLARE @Brackenpaw
  feel free to have your character find clues, but no kits will be found in this thread. . .
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

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[Brackenpaw]

Truthfully she didn’t expect to be brought out here, while she guessed it made sense only in the sense of obligation that Bluefrost had as their mentor wouldn’t it be too much of a risk? They didn’t like to view themself as a liability but isn’t that what they were right now? She didn’t have much experience with anything like this so they weren’t even sure how much help they could be. They wanted to help, they had been in that nursery themself not too long ago so they knew a lot of their former den-mates. How good of an apprentice could they be if they couldn’t help look for the vulnerable?

They meet Bluefrost’s stare with a determined stare of their own, holding eye contact. Bracing themself for some kind of argument that never comes, instead of it they’re given advice and warning. The request to stay close to the warriors causes them to scowl “I don’t need to be hovering around some warrior, Bluefrost” they grumble their displeasure over this situation but doesn’t go out of her way to disobey her. She finds herself glancing at Sootspot, eyes narrowing as she watches him but plants herself between him and Foxglare anyways.

She huffs and decides to be on the lookout for the shrubbery around them, ducking their head to gain a better vantage point. Worry swam through them, hopefully Vulturekit was fine. No, he had to be fine because then what was the point of stupid DuskClan sweeping through here and causing so much chaos? They wouldn’t kill so many for no reason, it had to be because they wanted to take kits alive… surely. The calico apprentice refused to let herself get too worried about this, she needed a clear head. There was something to prove here after all.

Out of the corner of her eye that she narrowly catches in her sight is a small tuft of fur, caught on a stray twig sticking out from a shrub. So small that it could have been easily missed if she kept losing herself in thought like that. “There’s something over here” she gives the courtesy of letting the others know before briskly walking towards it, ensuring that they’re slow enough for the warriors to catch up to her with ease and so that she is clearly within eyesight but she refuses to wait around. As she approaches it the scent of heather and gorse is unmistakable, they frown as mixed emotions debate which should take the lead. The positive side was that they had taken the kit out this far, they wouldn’t bother to do that with a dead kit but that also means they got caught on that shrub. “It’s from Vulturekit, I’m pretty sure at least” they declare and look over at their shoulder towards the rest of the patrol.

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‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc. rolled a lil investigation check and got an 18 :3! Figured it would be fun if they found some fur as a clue
  
•  
• BIOGRAPHY
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 8 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

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[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ Foxglare hummed affirmatively as Bluefrost turned to address them, agitation fizzing off her silvery pelt. His expression was grim, still determined to find Vulturekit, but acutely aware of the reality that presented itself. Dust, rock-ridden sand beneath their paws, and not a single shred of evidence pointing toward a lost kitten. He says nothing more, only turning to the shrubbery to sweep for any semblance of a scent-trail, twitching his ear idly to listen for Brackenpaw as she was ordered to stay within their vicinities.

He's quick to arrive when the calico apprentice sounds the alert, stopping close enough to sniff the tuft of dark fur. The faintest whiff of something catches his twitching nose, but it's gone again before he can say. Foxglare steps back to scan the surrounding shrubbery, uttering a quick, "Good catch," before glancing toward the other two warriors once more, "No blood, either."

In theory, the lack of blood was a good sign. Vulturekit may not have been injured or killed by his kit-nappers, and if the tuft of fur belonged to him, he was likely walking around just fine. It was just a matter of where. He narrowed his eyes to stare sharply at the unknown land before them, Were they close? Was there something just behind that next shrub-line, waiting to ambush them?

SOMEONE WILL SAY ⁀➷☾⁺₊ WHAT IS LOST CAN NEVER BE SAVED.

• OOC: rolled a 15 on investigation check !
• 
• 
  
  — meztli . sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 19mo moor-runner of windclan. formerly mentored sunlitpaw.
  — a scarred, hulking white and golden tabby tom with gray eyes
  — taciturn, vigilant, reserved, self-righteous, restrained, independent, humanitarian, unyielding
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by eezy

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