pafp it becomes | stuck

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ This all started with an easy morning. One where he decided to go hunting given that prey was becoming more bountiful. More plenty. They can all eat well and not be snapping at one another over bones. Truly he was happy to be able to go somewhere other than lanquishing in camp but his good luck decided to run out. As he trekked across a territory he knows well enough he took a small mistep. A trick of one will and his leg sunk into the ground. It caused him to stumble, to trip and his body twisted. Pain seared his leg but he found himself in another predicament. His other leg had sunk in, his body twists once again and he is lodged in mud that holds onto him. His muzzle curls as he struggles to pull himself out of the muk but it seems to be of little use as his chin becomes slathered in the thick mud. He never mentions how he is blind in his blue eye, and honestly only a few know that he is. Mainly his littermates and his mother and father, may they rest in peace.

So he knows what caused this. His sight. He supposes he didn't see the place or mud and swampwater. And if he does like this...no if someone sees him like this he may as well die of embarrassment. And right after he thinks this he hears pawsteps and his eyes lift up as he sees them. His leader
Chilledstar. His smile grows wider and he tries to shift, tries to at least have some dignity. "Hehehe....ah...hah...well, I...I think I need some help from our illustrious leader. Please." He tries to move but the mud is holding on to him.

@CHILLEDSTAR. ​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

there was nothing like a good and successful hunt to cheer someone up. with prey running rampant, chilledstar made it a point to hunt as often as they could. they needed the strength. it was slowly building back up and they could finally say they weren't so hungry that they were becoming delusional, and they didn't look like a walking corpse... not anymore. as they caught yet another frog, their ears perked up at something moving nearby. had they not been leader, they might not have even bothered with investigating but this territory was their responsibility. with a nod of their head, they buried their prey within the marshland before walking to the noise.

they didn't expect it. they hadn't known what to expect, really, but it truly wasn't this. they look at the talkative cat below them, listening to him ask for help but they didn't move. not a single fur even moved in his direction before they burst out with laughter. a rare noise, yet such a pleasant feeling. they covered their muzzle to try and stop the laughing but it was of little use. they took in a deep breath to try and ground themself, for just a moment.

"o-oh my... here I'll, uh, help you out."

they said in between childish giggles, before they turned to try and find a stick. they couldn't help if they, too, were stuck in. they found a large snd sturdy enough branch to pull, shifting their weight to pull it.

"grab it, and I'll pull."

they muffled from behind the stick.
​

 

[hitch]

in character   out of character   character tags   reference

• 
  
  
  ── He still doesn't like frogs. All this time he's lived as a ShadowClanner, starved as a ShadowClanner, and frog still ranks below gnawing bark off of trees. Many of his clanmates don't mind —or even like— the taste, but he can never get a bite farther than his tongue before he's wracked with disgusted shudders. Even so, he can hunt the hoppy little shits, and like Chittertongue and Chilledg–star, that's what he's set out to do.
  
  And for once, he's not the one the swamp's decided to toy with. "You'll probably survive," he calls to his fellow warrior, standing a very careful distance away from the limb-eating mud. "If, for some reason, we can't yank you out, I promise I'll feed and water you every day."
  

  ---

  ​
•  
•  
•  
• ──── surr'oseal'isme (rosemire; formerly roseal). he/him. reluctantly shadowclan.
  ──── approximately forty months old and is not entirely certain of his true age.
  ──── single & uninterested in any romantic attachments; possibly open for flings.
  ──── tall, scarred albino w/ sharply-peaked ears and a bobbed, scruffy tail (voice).
  ──── ─── currently noticeably haggard. starting to regain weight, but still rather thin.​
•  
• 
  
  

 

[Rainecho]

Like her fellow clanmates, the striped she-cat is enjoying the warmth and the re-growth that new-leaf brings. She didn't particularly mind the taste of frog but really you could only eat so much of the same thing over and over and over again before you start to yearn for something else. Or anything at all, really. She cannot remember the last time she had gone a day without her stomach growling at her and with the forest still recovering from the fire she doubts that day is coming anytime soon. Still, at least now there is a mouse or a squirrel thrown into the mix.

Rainecho cannot help the laugh that escapes her jaws. But Chittertongue's predicament, coupled with Rosemire's words, it's almost too much. She does not move to help Chilledstar, because what use would she be anyways? So she stands next to her fellow warrior, a safe distance away. If she got any mud on her pelt she would have a few choice words for her friend down in the mud pit there! "That sounds like the life" she comments "Lounging around in the mud and getting paw delivered prey every day. Sign me up!"
​

 

[smogstar]

Newleaf. A time of restoration, and a time of recovery. With their territory reborn, it is now the norm for Smogmaw and his clanmates to leave camp for reasons other than necessity. The greenery, eradicated in seasons prior, has made a sweeping return amongst the treetops and undergrowth, and the pewter-furred deputy finds more fellowship in its presence than in the tedium back at camp. Knowing those he lived alongside, however, it's to be expected for the absurd going-ons in the hollow to spill into the greater marsh. A shallow sigh parts his maw, as what was supposed to be a quiet jaunt into the woods has become ravished by some inane rescue effort.

Arbitrary paws drift to the scene, parking a fair breadth away from Rainecho's haunch. His regard lingers over the mahogany warrior's upper back, watching the endeavour in a manner that was indifferent and frankly, unconvinced. "Some of you live like that anyways," comes a dry jest, followed by jaw-splitting yawn. "D'you think he actually wants to get out?" he then asks. Part of him believes young Chittertongue was enjoying the attention, particularly that which came from his leader.​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ The laughter it seems to make his own grin pull wider despite his situation. At least he can frame it as a light situation and not one that might actually be dire. Not one that actually has him anxious inside. At least there is a lightness and he plays on it well enough. His leader offers a stick and he is about to chomp down on it when Rosemire comes forth. His dual eyes widen slightly and then he makes a snort in the back of his throat, seems to be considering it. "Feed and water! No work involved? Sign me up oh, but will it be my favorite prey, hm?" He grins brightly towards Rose before another laugh makes him twist his head in the muk. Oh no, Rainecho too. How many are going to see him like this? Keeping it down he tries to slug up a paw but goes almost no where. "Ah, ah you know what I think I like moving more." Definitely.

Smogmaw is next to see this and the lilac chimera frowns before he turns back to the stick. Now he really wants to get out. Mud may be good for the skin (or something like that) but he doesn't want to stay like this forever. Turning his head he chomps down on the stick and gathers his energy for the pull of a lifetime. Once it starts he can feel the mud sucking and holding on to him. His jaws ache for how hard he is gripping the branch.​