It's all going up (in smoke) || intro

[DUSTCLOUD]

LYRIC LYRIC LYRIC ⋆⁺₊⋆
Dustcloud, mouth full of carcass, days' old crowfood, slowly slipped into the Shadowclan camp. The clan was not quite as picky as others', about their meals, which he was thankful for, to a degree. They took what they could get, and this was the best he'd found in days. Leafbare was looking to be especially rough this year.

It made his fur bristle. The male tortie hated the slog of leafbare, really. It was a nuisance to have to scrounge like rogues. There wasn't much that he didn't have some strong opinion of, but this was getting a little pitiful, he decides, looking at the freshkill pile. It was not exactly fresh, and was barely even a pile, compared to previously. He glances around the camp, tail stub waving in irritation, both at himself and at nature, as it were. He leaves his find on the pile, which only seemed to empty as the days pass. He was as hungry as everyone else, sure. But it was hard not to wonder, and even easier to convince himself that maybe some of his clanmates might not be pulling their weight. Wether or not that was reality, he didn't care. The clan needed to be fed.

Fine. He'd do all the work, then.

"Great job on the pile, everyone. Makes camp look real roomy. I'll blow your nuts right off with this next hunt."

[⋆]​

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[ashpaw]

the scent of days old death crept into her senses. she stuck her head out of the apprentice's den to see a warrior, dustcloud, carrying in kills that looked moments from rotting. gross. ashpaw could handle the weird tasting lizards and frogs, at least those kills were fresh.

the mottled apprentice was on her way over to investigate further, when he spoke. sarcastically at that. her eyebrows lowered slightly. it was nobody's fault that patrols were coming back more and more empty handed each day, yet the way the tortoiseshell was speaking made it feel like everyone was to blame. ashpaw didn't know how much she appreciated that. he obviously didn't kill any of that prey himself but still showed a sense of cockiness for his prizes. how difficult was it to sniff out a carcass?

and what was he talking about, blowing everyone's nuts off. now she was just flat out confused. she stayed silently watching for probably too long before she knew she had to say something. this one way staring contest was getting a bit too awkward for her. "good... find?" ashpaw trailed off mid-statement. she was going to say catch, but this food (if it could even be called that) didn't look like it put up too much of a fight. "thanks for making it less roomy."​

[ EVERYTHING IS BROKEN ]​

 

[Starlingheart]

Starlingpaw herself had been worried about the upcoming leaf-bare. It was what had driven her to the carrionplace with Granitepaw, the reason she had ended up injured, stuck in the medicine cat's den. Perhaps everything happened for a reason. She refuses to believe it was anything but divine intervention from the stars and every night before bed, she sends them a silent prayer to please let her clan not starve to death.

The scent of long-dead prey brings her out of a nap, her head whipping to the fresh-kill pile. Was it possible to smell prey go bad so quickly? She wonders for a moment before she sees the source, Dustcloud with a piece of carrion in his jaws. He drops the rotten prey on the pile and declares loudly that no one else is helping. Starlingpaw wrinkles her nose as the smell once again hits it. Was Shadow Clan really that desperate for prey already? Leaf bare had only just begun... She would have to ask her aunt later if it was wise for cats to eat food that had already been dead for a couple of days before they got to it, she wouldn't want anyone in the clan to get a stomachache and puke up any precious food they had managed to consume.

"H-hooow h-h-how l-long loooong h-h-haaa-has has that that b--be-been d-d-d-dead?" She asks as she approaches, eyes not leaving the rank carcass that now made its home on the fresh-kill pile.
​

 

[smogstar]

Every passing day is a revolution of the prior one's events. Wake up, bellyache about the cold, whine over the lack of food, and sleep. A vicious, unproductive cycle which has left its mark on the tom's psychological well-being. Already he is abnormally sensitive to environmental stressors, and virtually detached from his internal faculties. But, with the newfound threats of starvation and exposure looming in the air, Smogmaw feels his seams beginning to tear.

Having mulled over the insufficient fresh-kill pile at the start of the day, the mackerel tabby is receptive to Dustcloud's fetid addition to it. Sure, the assault on his sniffer leaves much to be desired. Any relief is superior to no relief, however, and thus he shambles forth from the warrior's den to extend his thanks.

"What 'n the blazes even is that thing?" asks the smoggy male, a combination of his shut nostrils and strained voice making for an offbeat sound. He pads forward, brushing past Starlingpaw, so he may closely scrutinise the absolute state of this corpse. Lowering his chin to the snow-capped ground, Smogmaw sizes up the dead animal through squinted, almost terrified eyes. "At least it's in better shape than you, Dustcloud."

If the clan is just tossing half-decomposed carcasses onto the pile these days, then Smogmaw knew what he was going to do with Dustcloud's mortal remains once he dies in a moon or so.​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

"Thanks, Dustcloud for finding what you could." The molly spoke with ease as she slips from her den. Her eyes look at the crowfood and though she is repulsed she is also annoyed more. Knowing that they could have had more prey if it were not for the split and that pointless battle. Looking back on it she knows she would not have changed her choices but still...it's turned out poorly in the long run for them. Flicking her tail she sighs as she looks to her apprentice who wants to know how old it is. They don't have that luxury anymore. Sad as it may be and she turns herself away from the pile, eyes half open.

"Really if you don't like it then don't eat it. If starving is a better alternative for you." She shrugs her shoulders as she looks at Smog before flicking her tail and turning away. A part of her finds displeasure in having to rely on others for food now. Maybe she will go out hunting on her own.​

 

[BOARJAW]

boarjaw is no stranger to consuming carrion. when one's stomach is hollow and all there is, is a rotting corpse, one will do what they must. or, sometimes, one would choose to eat maggot-infested carcasses to save the healthier options for their clanmates. sometimes, one would not want to live with the thought of an animal being killed all for naught, to have its life wasted.

but as the days grow shorter and the nights colder, there is little left but carrion for the shadowclanners to live off of. it's... frustratingly worrisome. they couldn't sustain an entire clan off of crowfood alone, could they? yet, there isn't anything that they could do. mother nature would restore herself at her own pace.

watching dustcloud parade into camp with a carcass, which looks like it'd been a carcass for at least a moon, all while ripping on the rest of the clan for the empty pile... it doesn't sit right with boarjaw. the hulking tom scrunches up his facial features. they're trying. it's not their fault that the swamps yield little life in the cold moons. "stop," he rumbles, quiet, as arguments begin to hurl themselves through the already-tense atmosphere. whether anyone hears him, from his secluded corner in camp, is unknown. "food's food..." not like we'll be able to find anything better, at this point. the bitter thought is more-so aimed at his ungrateful clanmates, rather than mother nature. she is simply doing what she must.​