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Everything about this situation seems hopeless, and the longer they wander with no sign of light, the more regrets begin to pile up onto Luckypaw's chest. Maybe if he had been walking next to Scorchpaw or Scorchstreak, they would have found their way to the tunnel together - or, maybe he would have shared their fate outside, buried under rubble for the rest of eternity. At this point, he's starting to question just how terrible of a thought that is; at least they'd be together again, he thinks. At least there'd be some sort of closure. What was he supposed to tell everyone back home? 'Here's your lungwort, and oh, by the way, we're now down four more cats.' Even without speaking them, the words feel worse than dirt in his mouth, turn to soil in his head, though he can do nothing but despair silently as they continue on their aimless march. If by some chance they even made it out of here alive, he no longer had as many qualms about turning back as he did before; sure, the fate of WindClan and the other Clans rests upon their shoulders, but how could they be expected to carry that themselves? There weren't even any SkyClanners left - gone, all of them, swallowed up by the thundering rocks. It was ironic, in a way, that none of them were to carry on the journey for the cure for an illness that they had brought upon the Clans, but even though he has no particular love for the kittypets, he can't help but be weighed down by their disappearance into the dust; none of them had deserved to be crushed out there, not like that.
By now, he's started to run on instinct, so weary of the fear that held him near-constant that he'd rather not think in the first place, focusing in on what's going on directly around him rather than the circumstances they find themselves in as much as he can. One paw in front of the other - one tired, aching paw forward, then the next, over and over and over again, never reaching anything of substance other than more solid rock. These tunnels aren't like the ones back home, that's for sure; everything still feels wrong, as though he's constantly on edge, and whenever he stumbles over some uneven ground Luckypaw still nearly jumps out of his skin in fright, as though the ceiling above them might collapse down, or like he might disturb a den of badgers waiting just a few tail-lengths ahead, looming in the pitch black. And, of course, he can't forget the pain in his tail, faded slightly to a dull ache but always present nevertheless. He'd hoped that things would be okay, that it would go back to fine sooner or later and that it wasn't anything serious, but he can't quite drive away the image of the unsightly bend in it that he hadn't had enough time to examine before plunging into the darkness. If he didn't already believe they were all doomed to wander the tunnels until they collapsed, he'd probably be more worried; as it is, there are bigger things to think about, with one of the most important of those being the ache in his stomach.
Back home, he'd never had to go hungry - there was always plenty on the fresh-kill pile, and sometimes he'd even have his pick between a few different types of prey. Down here, though? He can't remember when the last time he ate was - when any of them ate, really. Hunting down here has been largely unsuccessful, most of them too unfamiliar with the terrain or too used to dirt tunnels to provide skills of any kind, and truthfully, all his attempts up until now have been half-hearted at best. After all, if the other warriors can't sink their claws into any of the skittering creatures hovering just out of reach, how is he going to catch anything? He'd only just barely caught his first rabbit right before they left, and that had been in the tunnels he knew by heart (will he still remember them if they make it back, he wonders? Luckypaw finds he doesn't want to know the answer to that); no, he'd only be wasting his energy, and yet, at this point, he hardly cares anymore. The hunger that tears at his insides is too much, and so, with clumsy paws, invisible to those around him, he draws back slightly, to the point that he doesn't need to worry about losing the group, but still has a bit of room to work with. Eyes open or eyes closed, it doesn't matter - everything is still just as dark, and so, instead, he casts his other senses out, ears and nose telling him far more about his surroundings than anything else.
One ear twitches at the scraping of something, some little creature whose curiosity will surely be its downfall, and though he has trouble pinpointing it when it's not moving, Luckypaw's pretty sure he has a decent idea of where it is between scuttles. Lizards aren't that unknown to him, having spent so much of his time in the tunnels, but he'd never really sought them out, not liking how cold and scaly they always seemed. Now, though, the feeling of scales in his mouth is the only thing he can think of, locking onto his prey. Even as he carefully positions his tail so as not to disturb it, a fresh throb of pain still has him wincing, reminding him that failure here is worse than just humiliation like back at home. Hardly daring to breathe out a sigh, he hones in on the unnerving scraping sounds around him, listening as they flit from side to side, and when he finally tracks the sounds down to a stopping spot, he strikes, perhaps quicker than he ever has before. As his claws hit flesh for the first time down here, he nearly recoils instinctively, and it's all he can not to toss it away and not to surge forward to snap it up in one quick bite, instead settling for keeping it pinned in his grasp as he deals what should be a killing blow, his lack of sight muddling the kill. If it's messy, he'll never know, and neither will he care; the only thing that matters now is the fairly hefty lizard now carried in his jaws. For a moment, he considers doing away with it right then and there, but a scuffle ahead draws a soft sigh from him - it wouldn't feel right, keeping this to himself, not after they've all been struggling down here together. "Anyone want a bite?" he offers, almost hesitantly, catch dropping to the ground at his paws as he catches up with the rest of the group.
