tunnels it’s fun in the dark [return to work]

It had been good for her to rest and relax as she nursed her kits. Her litter is perfect, and she adores each of her kittens, but she has to return to her tunneling duties at some point. Especially after the clan’s recent raid on their marsh-dwelling neighbors. After such a devastating loss to ShadowClan of all clans, it’s more clear than ever that Scorchstreak needs to get back to her duties as a tunneler.

Sootstar had died in that fight. A fight that, as fate would have it, Scorchstreak was unable to participate in, so soon after the birth of her kits. But they don’t require her presence any longer, and she’s slim enough once again to fit into the tunnels—perhaps a bit too slim, but that’s a side effect of having kits that she’s able to handle. She’s certain that more than a few things have gone awry in her absence, and she itches with the need to ensure that the tunnels are upkept. Even if they are pristine, she aches with the need to be certain.

At the entrance to the tunnel system that leads beneath the marshland, the calico turns to face her patrol. Her lecture is well-known by now, one that she gives each time they enter tunnels that they technically shouldn’t be in. But she gives it anyway—it is better to be safe than to be sorry. "Move silently. Stay inside the tunnels, and cover any exposed exits you see. We’ll use this," she gestures to the hare’s pelt that she’s bright along with them, "to cover our scents, if need be."

With that, the she-cat enters the tunnel and walks, leading her patrol until the light of day no longer touches them. In the darkness, she feels truly in her element for the first time in months. "If anyone notices clutter or structural problems, let me know." They cannot let tunnels fall into disrepair because of any ignorance. She stalks along, tail flicking in the pitch black of the tunnel, and scrapes a pile of leaf litter to the side.
[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]
 
It has left them anxious. Twitchy. Even beneath the earth, he can hear the wind howling. Can almost hear the promise of ShadowClan paws. Though Ambertail had not been at the battle, of course he had not, he knew what had happened. Knew what must happen next. It is good that Scorchstreak is with them again. Under the lead warrior's guidance, the suffocating dangers of above feel further away. He follows silently after her, the only sign of his assent and understanding a flicking of his whiskers that none will know. Between the two tortoiseshell warriors, Ambertail has hemmed in his apprentice. Whitepaw should follow, and Ambertail will ensure that she will not get lost to the darkness. Not again. Never again.

"It is good to have you back," he murmurs eventually, his voice little more than a ghost of breath barely audible above their paws and rustling fur. Things were not the same without your guidance; I miss that there is someone to converse with me aside from the ghosts. That, of course, there would be no saying. He busies himself with tracing his paw along the curve of the tunnel, searching for roots that have come through, for burrows that other animals have begun to build in their absence. He ducks himself low to Whitepaw's height and urges her to listen with a nip at her tail. "Do not lose yourself to the path. See where your paws land."
border2.png

  • ooc: @whitepaw
  • ──── ambertail. tunneler of windclan. nb, he or they.
    ──── adult, though precise age unlabeled as of now.
    ──── sexuality unknown. a strange windclan cryptid.

    ──── a tiny, yet proportionally long-limbed tortoiseshell with unfocused amber eyes. though they retain their color, ambertail is blind. those who don't know as much may be confused, and will certainly be met with dry responses from the tunneler himself.
  • "speech"
 

Scorchstreak's words are familiar, a comforting ritual, to Cygnetstare; the soothing ceremony of a tunnel entrance enhanced rather than bothered by the little speech the chimera hasn't had the fortune to hear much; she was a "new tunneler" until recently, after all (she might still be considered such for all she knows), and the privilege of entering their secretive tunnels was one she wasn't often afforded during her apprenticeship. She hadn't witnessed the bloody conflict with the flatlanders of late, but she had heard of the injuries, the death that wasn't really a death at all. Seen the after-effects; considered them, turned them thoughtfully over in her mind. Cygnetstare would not miss the next skirmish, she had quietly vowed; the flatlanders' blood would spatter her paws like the muck they bathed in like a pagan ceremony. It's not immediately visible, but Cygnetstare's loyalty is mindless, to anyone providing to her, and right now that was WindClan.

Just like the rest of her patrol, as the chimera ghosts through the tunnels, she feels safe. Comforted. The darkness is not oppressive but rather a warm embrace of soil, her empty sight a blessing; her every cell seems to work in tandem, touching, spreading, smelling. Her long tail moves deftly about behind her as opposed to its usual dragging, probing for missed pitfalls or protruding roots her paws hadn't found. The unfortunate blockage of recent days occurs to her, and Cygnetstare vows to keep an extra-close eye on the tunnel entrances now that the wind's picking up seemingly more by the day. She inhales the redolent and languid scent of dirt, parsing it apart for any unusual scent over the rich and beautiful odor of soil and the raw smell of the rabbit's pelt.

Ambertail breathes words barely heard over the sound of their group's movement, but Cygnetstare nods in unseen agreement. With a member of their faction missing, work had somehow felt ... incomplete; it always seemed to feel so when they had a tunneler out of action, like a phantom limb. Recently she'd occasionally stop at a juncture or piece of debris or scent and wonder what Scorchstreak would do; well, wonder no more, because the lead warrior is back in action and so soon, too. The chimera is wordless as they trek through the darkness, but she pays careful attention, the promise solidifying in her corpse heart. She would do well by her Clan.
 
d8t3vx0-d0011f9a-cf93-4500-8f05-8f155ea89f2d.png

"It's good to have you back, Scorchstreak," Doverunner murmurs after the lead warrior finishes her speech, ducking into the tunnel silently. She blinks her eyes, adjusting to the darkness rapidly as her whiskers brush the walls of the tunnel, trying to focus on the task at paw. The imagery of her clanmates coming back from two battles, bloodied and dispirited, made her feel... useless. If she was born a moor-runner, perhaps she'd be able to help more, perhaps she'd have been chosen for the battle and her extra bit of help would of done... something. But she couldn't let this affect her. Her clan needed her now, more then ever, and she was going to ensure the tunnels were safe and that they could keep their eye on their enemies.

Her tail attempts to brush against Cygnetstare, reminding herself of where her patrol mates were as paws pick and precisely step where she knows debris is free from. Once assured her clanmate's spot, she takes to brushing the debris with her tail as she passes it, tufted ears flicked back as she focuses ahead. Just like a tunnel, who knew where the clan would go from here, but she was secured in knowing that no matter what, Windclan would survive.
"speech"
 
RUN RABBIT, RUN RABBIT, RUN RUN RUN
bunnypounce | 23 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally easy | attack in bold hotpink
The unsteady thump-thump-thump of the mollys paws on the tunnel floor gives away her position easily, moving slower than the others as they travel, taking up the rear of the patrol. Bunny has always loved the dirt, loved the tunnels - digging is truly her calling, despite it all. And so she only hums along at scorchstreaks quiet warning, slim figure balanced on hindlegs as her front paw works swiftly, scraping up any troublesome roots or leaf litter she finds only to pack them back down within the earth - using them as supports for the structure she fears will otherwise crumble without them. It is, perhaps harder work for her than the others, but the thought doesn't even occur to her - she's simply happy to be there.
 
Ambertail and Doverunner each say that they’re glad she’s back to work, and Scorchstreak flicks a dark ear at them even though the tom cannot hope to see it. The other tunnelers remain silent, but she can feel their presence and hear their pawsteps. They are all here, all together, all tunnelers. "It’s good to be back," she says, and though her voice betrays none of her happiness, anyone near enough may glimpse a warm smile settling across her muzzle. "I missed you all while I was on leave. And I love my kits, but I’m glad to have a few moments away from them as well."

She’s been blessed, truthfully, with kits who are at least moderately obedient. She can trust her litter with a kitsitter for the day while she is out and about, and when she returns to the nursery half-exhausted after a patrol, she can trust that they will allow her to rest. But still, being back in the tunnels is a comfort that Scorchstreak had sorely missed during her time spent cooped up in the nursery. She’s craved the feeling of dirt walls pressing in on her, the touch of other tunnelers at her side even without being able to see them.

Changing the topic, she huffs out a sigh. "It’s simply a shame that my first patrol is into ShadowClan territory. Their garbage has likely been blown into the tunnels, so we should keep a whisker out for any strange objects." Her paw catches on something, plasticky and almost sharp at the edge. She withdraws the paw immediately—disgust curls at her maw, and she flicks it away with a growl. "Like this one," she hisses, nose wrinkling at the scent. Something not dead, but never given life to begin with. It’s unnatural. It’s wrong.
[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]
 
There were many tunnelers that Whitepaw could admit she admired along with her mentor, with Scorchstreak being high on the list. She enjoyed being able to help the queen amidst her own chores, even if it was only occasionally. However now, Scorchstreak's little ones were old enough that the queen had returned to the darkness of the tunnels. Walking beside her mentor as the lead warrior was greeted, she sent the older molly a small smile, before jolting and turning to Ambertail as he instructed her further for this patrol. "Yes Ambertail." She responded, knowing the tom wouldn't see her nodding. As the patrol began to navigate, she heard Scorchstreak bemoan over it being Shadowclan, and the the bizarre objects that'd be littering the tunnels. Admittedly curious, she spoke up softly. "Why does Shadowclan have so many odd things on their territory?" She asked as a strange item made the older tunneler spit out a hiss. "Do they just not care?" She added with a light whisper as she tilted her head.
[I'M BREATHING]