it doesn't matter how the whispers burn - buckgait

[Silverstripe]

( ♦ ) With her head held high, Silverstripe padded back into camp with a mouse between her jaws. Given the oncoming leafbare she had done well in her hunts these past few days. Espesually in comparison to some of her clanmates. Of course there was, she told herself, some luck to be accounted for in that. The thought did nothing to diminish her pride.

As she set her catch down in the fresh kill pile, she glanced toward the camp entrance, considering another hunt. The sun was setting now though, and the chill was setting in. Prey would be even scarcer. It would be a long and lonely hunt before she found anything, if she even managed to at all. More likely then naught, she'd just be stuck stalking the territory alone all afternoon. Her ear flicked as she imagined it. Boring.

Instead she glanced about, before settling on the clan deputy. She made her way over. "Hello Buckgait." She called out with a serene smile. "You wouldn't happen to have any work for me, would you? Anything you need help with?" ​

( OOH, YOU GOT ME BEGGING FOR MORE ; MY SPELL, YOU"RE MY LOVE SPELL )

 

[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

she's surveying the frost-bitten grasses when silverstripe finds her. a molly that is found agreeable by the clan, and one that buck truly has no qualms with. which seems to be increasingly rarer these days, but she blames her stressors. when the molly calls for more work, buck still has her back to the woman. it is not out of cruelty, just in silent thought. a glance heavenwards, watching the remaining migratory birds fly for warmer weathers, likely regretting their decision in overstaying. the chill has set in, and she is sure everyone can feel it now. even those with far thicker furs seem to be more huddled these days.

finally, buck greets the warrior, turning to face her. "silver," is her simple welcoming, not caring to waste words on pleasantries. "why don't you help me with the nests? i need to make sure they're properly made for the coming cold. it's simple, but it's something for you." her focus is more on the younger generation, their first time braving the cold and learning what it takes to survive the river territory. "i've already gotten everything for it, i just haven't gotten around to it yet." she's placed her supplies by the entrances, barked at every single cat that had ventured near that if they've disturbed her pile, she'll throw them in the early morning river. it was enough to deter everyone so far.
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