private I GOT STREET SAVOIR FARE — skyclan dusk patrol

[SLATESNARL]

The dusk patrol was nothing unusual. Slate had padded along this route far too many times to count; he wonders if Ora chose him to check these borders so often because he knows them so well. Or maybe she knows that he could handle himself should they run into some unsavory twolegplace residents. Either way, there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary and he found himself mentally spacing out as he quietly trekked by the wooden fences.

Then, a familiar scent wafts into his nostrils. "Hold up." Slate grunts to the patrol, coming to a halt and sniffing the air to pinpoint where the smell was coming from. It's smoky, almost like fire, though a savoriness accompanies it. His mouth waters as memories begin to crop up in his mind — those cold nights when he couldn't find anything to eat and being forced to steal from the twolegs on the streets. They prepared their food out in the open sometimes as opposed to their dens; the weirdly-shaped hunks of meat were always juicy and flavorful, though.

He angles his mangled ears toward the fence, noticing a faint sizzling sound coming from beyond it. Why worry about not having enough food to feed the clan when the twolegs had food for them to take right out in the open? "The twolegs have food. If we can pull this off, we can feed a lotta' cats." Slate was not intent on changing his mind. They could sit there and complain, or they could help him and make this go by a lot smoother.

And, coincidentally, there just so happened to be a gap at the bottom of the wooden structure; it was jagged, but enough for a cat to squeeze by. Perfect. Now, who to bring with him beyond the fence? The Maine Coon surveys his options — Mallowlark is on the larger side, so he wouldn't provide the swiftness that Slate needed ( not to mention, he creeps him out ). Cherrypaw was the smallest of the bunch by far, probably the best candidate for the task, but in the off chance that a twoleg got ahold of her... Orangeblossom would never forgive him. Not after the close call in the mountains. So, it came down to Tatteredlight. His limb was not intact, but... that didn't seem to be an issue. Hopefully he would be able to dart away and keep on his toes should trouble arise.

With a glance toward Cherrypaw and Mallowlark, the lead warrior instructed, "You two, stay put. Get ready to take the food that we're gonna bring back." He gestures toward the hole with a flick of his tail. Then, he glanced toward the lanky warrior, "Tatteredlight, with me. Stay quiet." Slate then proceeded to slink forth and drag his belly onto the floor, barely clearing the hole in the fence and pulling himself out onto the other side. His gaze lifts ahead — no twolegs around, just a manmade contraption with meat smoking on top. Some of the meats were put aside on a table, as well. The former rogue licked his lips eagerly.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

• @Cherrypaw @MALLOWLARK @TATTEREDLIGHT

• 

• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

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[MALLOWLARK]

Looking out for Pollenfur dragged him along this border often, though luck still hadn't found him- worry mounted day after day, with every check-in. Desperately, he hoped it was coincidence that his aunt had been nowhere. Perhaps she'd fled this land for good, wanting nothing to do with any of the Clans, as she'd made clear to him when he'd first met her at the border. Still, he could not stop himself from looking; tracking skills sharp as ever, he stayed alert for any signs of movement, any familiar scent or flash of a patchwork pelt.

When Slate spoke to him, Mallowlark only just heard- stay put, he said, and the white tom nearly parted his grin to ask him where he was heading. The gap below the fence, a little fur-lined, gave it away though- they were about to scavenge. Well, Tatteredlight and Slate were, anyway. It seemed Slate had as much faith in his own apprentice as he did Mallowlark, and poor Cherrypaw, what an insult!

He almost laughed at the thought, but managed to choke his laughter back. "Don't get snatched," he hummed, genuine well-wishing... though he grinnd unsettlingly wide all the while. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Cherrypaw's mouth begins opening in immediate protest. "This is a stupid idea." "So you're saying I'm not good enough to go?" "Don't bring the twolegs all down on our pelts for stealing their prey!" Such and more buzz on the tip of her tongue, but Slate seems to have anticipated it with how quickly he manages to proceed. She sends her glare to the backs of her mentor and Tatteredlight as they're soon swallowed by the gap in the fence.

Hurt, she retreats into a sitting position and pulls her tail around herself. Slate had been doing so much more with her lately, and still he didn't trust her. Was it all because of Little Wolf? The apprentice shakes her head free of the thoughts, replacing them with more tantalizing ones. She supposes the twoleg food smells good...better than prey, dare she admit. The scent of birdblood never drifted as far as whatever sizzled and popped beyond the fence did. Her stomach growls in agreement.

Mallowlark's chirp brings her out of the brief food reverie and back into reality, where she sits alone and cold next to Mallowlark. Cherrypaw frowns at him, coiling her tail even tighter around her paws. "Not gonna go look for your kin?" she ventures, somewhat unkindly, but mostly to fill the space Slate and Tatteredlight had left.​

 

[TATTEREDLIGHT]

just because i carry it so well doesn't mean it's not heavy .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Following the three silently, odd-colored hues glanced toward the wooden fence, familiar from times he’d much rather forget since he began part of something more than a life on the run, fending for himself. He frowned, helm turned away from the group to peer at the ground, ears angled flat against his helm. He didn’t particularly enjoy fighting, feeling barbarian-ish from that thought alone. He was a pacifist by heart, something that would one day get him killed, but the cream-ticked tabby didn’t feel any different with a short lifespan than he did with a long lifespan.

Helm tilted, he veered his attention toward Slate, plumed tail weaving with a curious chitter, odd hues shuffling toward the faint sizzling sound across the fence. Stealing from the twolegs? The ex-loner had thought something similar, but regrettably, he was met with sweeping brooms and kicking feet.

His maw parted to speak his concern, falling silent at State’s command, sighing in defeat. “Okay.” He called, following the lead warrior, glancing at Mallowlark and Cherrypaw, before he lowered himself, crawling through the opening with little resistance, thankful for his lankier build.

He glanced at the empty yard without a twoleg in sight; he ventured forward on cautious paws, tail skimming the ground at the aromatic scent of grilled meat. Oh. With tensing muscles, Tatteredlight crept forward, jumping on the table with practiced ease, a bit wobbly, but it was expected for the three-limbed warrior, nose burrowing itself into the meat, humming quietly. “Can we carry all this?” He murmured, glancing toward the twolegs nest, whiskers quivering in anticipation. ​

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thought speech​