- Jul 1, 2024
- 47
- 6
- 8
𓆧 Cricketcry left camp late in the afternoon to wander the tunnels on his lonesome, a frowned upon activity to do alone due to the inherent dangers, but he did not venture too far and felt sure of each pawstep he took. The tunnels provided a distraction for himself as he must remain poised, his mind is not allowed to wander down their own cobweb of distractions. It was a welcome distraction away from the ever present anxieties of his existence.
Cricketcry presses his round head out of one of the entrances to the system of tunnels, a previous burrow hole widened for the tunnelers’ use. He blinks rapidly by instinct, expecting the moor to be casted in the waning light of the afternoon sun, but frowns when he realizes he must have been below for a much longer time than he intended. The mottled feline murmurs to himself in a harsh tone, “Well, I am sure I was not missed.” Cricketcry knows this is due to his very own isolationism habits, but something he feels displeasure about all the same. He remains for several heartbeats peeking out of the burrow before squirming out and shaking sediment out of his long fur. He did not leave camp on his own very often and he exited the tunnels further away from camp instead of backtracking, and thinking of his journey back made his fur prickle– the Sootstar loyalist could very well be intruding… He huffs and shakes those intrusive thoughts out of his mind and flares his nostrils, checking for any scents that should not belong on this side of the border. Once he is satisfied by his check and scans the path ahead with wary eyes he begins trotting along, his tail characteristically dragging behind him in the remains of the undergrowth beneath his paws.
Cricketcry prances along at an uneven pace– his bad leg has been giving him more trouble lately– keeping his ears pricked upwards. He heard burnt foliage crack before he saw the feline approach and he skidded to a halt, unsheathing his claws simultaneously as he whips around. Cricketcry is prepared to face a foe, but instead he nearly collides with Paleface. He gasps in relief and sheathes his claws. “Damn!” He feels his heart thumping like a caged hummingbird and he shakes out his coat in an attempt to release some tension. He is not exactly at ease by Paleface’s presence, though. Cricketcry does not mingle often with anyone outside of the tunnelers he was familiar with and he attempts to offer Paleface a lopsided smile in greeting, but this unusual feat only contorts his features. “H-heading home?”
Cricketcry presses his round head out of one of the entrances to the system of tunnels, a previous burrow hole widened for the tunnelers’ use. He blinks rapidly by instinct, expecting the moor to be casted in the waning light of the afternoon sun, but frowns when he realizes he must have been below for a much longer time than he intended. The mottled feline murmurs to himself in a harsh tone, “Well, I am sure I was not missed.” Cricketcry knows this is due to his very own isolationism habits, but something he feels displeasure about all the same. He remains for several heartbeats peeking out of the burrow before squirming out and shaking sediment out of his long fur. He did not leave camp on his own very often and he exited the tunnels further away from camp instead of backtracking, and thinking of his journey back made his fur prickle– the Sootstar loyalist could very well be intruding… He huffs and shakes those intrusive thoughts out of his mind and flares his nostrils, checking for any scents that should not belong on this side of the border. Once he is satisfied by his check and scans the path ahead with wary eyes he begins trotting along, his tail characteristically dragging behind him in the remains of the undergrowth beneath his paws.
Cricketcry prances along at an uneven pace– his bad leg has been giving him more trouble lately– keeping his ears pricked upwards. He heard burnt foliage crack before he saw the feline approach and he skidded to a halt, unsheathing his claws simultaneously as he whips around. Cricketcry is prepared to face a foe, but instead he nearly collides with Paleface. He gasps in relief and sheathes his claws. “Damn!” He feels his heart thumping like a caged hummingbird and he shakes out his coat in an attempt to release some tension. He is not exactly at ease by Paleface’s presence, though. Cricketcry does not mingle often with anyone outside of the tunnelers he was familiar with and he attempts to offer Paleface a lopsided smile in greeting, but this unusual feat only contorts his features. “H-heading home?”
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OOC —— @Paleface.
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CRICKETCRY —— Tunneler of Windclan 𓆧
𓆧 AMAB / he/they / 28 ☾
𓆧 petite, reclusive, timid, wistful
