In the soft glow of dawn's first light, Skyclan's camp buzzed with the remnants of sleepiness.
Returning from the aftermath of a patrol, Fogbelly, a tom with short-haired elegance reminiscent of rainy skies, maneuvered through the foliage. Having reluctantly completed said hunting patrol, the warrior carried himself with a confident nonchalance, a subtle swagger in his step, vibrant green eyes mirroring the snarky and posturing attitude that defined them. Even if he had complained most of the way there the job was done. As he made his way through the camp, Fogbelly's movements were both deliberate and graceful, a picture of ease wrapped in a mischievous smile. Their stubby tail waved invitingly, a silent call for any willing companion to join him for breakfast. Ah, chow time at last. Finding few takers, he shrugged and seized one of his favorite prey, a delectable squirrel.
Eagerly bounding towards an empty spot near the nursery, the captured critter swung side to side, creating a silly sight.
Circling the chosen spot a few times, their satisfaction grew, and with a contented 'hmmph,' he settled on the ground below. Focused on the meal, he expertly worked around the sinewy meat, saving the prized legs for last. Relishing the savory delight was always a priority that way he could spend extra time carefully nibbling on the remaining bones. Amidst said indulgence, Fogbelly's senses picked up the approach of a slinking figure. Smile warped into a smirk their emerald gaze thinned. Brightly calling out, he meowed with playful pleasantries. "Gonna stand there all day like a sap or come share?"Promise I don't bite! The bemused look in their eyes glimmered at the rare occurrence of another cat expressing interest in sharing time with him. He was fully conscious of the fact most cats tended to flee or sigh in aggravation at his arrival.
They couldn't help but recall the majority of their lessons as an apprentice, where avoidance seemed to be the preferred reaction.
Feel free to be the cat he's addressing or a bystander!
∙ Large and muscular
∙ Slow when running/jumping
∙ Fast when kicking/hitting
∙ Hind legs are his most powerful asset
∙ Impressive and nimble climber
∙ Egocentric and snarky
∙ Love's a good joke or prank
∙ Dislike's any cat that talks for too long
∙ Hate's being mistaken for a riverclanner
∙ Enjoy's the taste of squirrel legs
∙ Chaotic neutral
❪ TAGS ❫ — .Cloverjaw hated mornings. He hated being kicked every now and then even more. The massive silver tom was curled up in his nest, sleep long gone and replaced with nothing but contempt. The molly beside him kept having more and more adventurous dreams and would strike out with her leg every now and then. At first he'd attempted to wake her up and inform her, but after the third time he gave up and waited for the light of day to announce a socially acceptable time to leave the den.
Grunting with pleasure, the tom roase to his feet at the first sliver of sun and quickly picked his way out of the den careful to avoid giving another warrior a similarly rude awakening. Shaking out his coat, the tom sighed heavily. The open air was nice. He could feel it easing his nerves already. He began his routine of going to the fresh kill pile, but a smokey-blue cat eating caught his eye. That squirell smelled delicious.... Stomach growling in envy, Cloverjaw tried to hard not to stare, and found himself a little more then embaressed when the other cat called out to him. "Sights pretty good," He mewed, voice heavy with exhaustion. "But I wouldn't mind sharing if that'd be fine."He made his way over, laying down near the other cat. "M' Cloverjaw," He greeted inbetween bites. "And you are?"
He's drifting around as usual, keeping to the shade to stop from overheating in the seemingly overbearing presence of the sun, his thickly coated body thanking him for it, when his attention is drawn to the two felines sharing prey. His thoughts turn to his own stomach, and the ragdoll picks something from the freshkill pile, lifting a bird between his jaws. Having birds in the SkyClan freshkill pile makes him smile, he likes to think one day he'll be good at capturing prey, despite his lack of skill.
Blue eyes dazed as usual he dips his heavy belly to the floor nearby, slumping onto the ground to lie down, vowing to clean whatever dirt he's stirred up off as soon as he's able. "I'll join you two." is drawled out, thinking hard about each word. Dolly's gaze keeps drifting away never really staying anywhere for long, but he takes bites from the prey nonetheless, making a noise of appreciation. The former kittypet's not sure if he's encountered either of the two, still learning the names of the other clan cats, so he throws his name out there following Cloverjaw through a full mouth: "Dolly." After a while of chewing, the mouthful disappears and a distant smile dances across his lips. "This is good." He blinks, looks at the squirrel, Fogbelly and Cloverjaw. "Is that good?"
The intracacies of warriors every day lives is something that interests her. Cricketchase promised her that one day she would be just like them, that she would hunt and fight for her clan and the idea had both excited and terrified her at the same time. What if there was like a big angry mean cat that wanted to hurt them and she was really really scared? But she had seen the look in her fathers eyes when he had described it and he looked so happy that Springkit thinks maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Dawn light creeps in through the opening of the nursery and, under the ever watchful eye of her mother, she makes her way to the opening where she hears the chatter of adults. When she pokes her head out of the den, she sees them. They are seated nearby, prey tucked between their paws and they are sharing in a very similar way she and her kin often share prey.
For some reason she does not understand they are all saying their names as they eat and suddenly she decides to join in. "Hiya! I'm Springkit" she says rom her place at the entrance of the nursery. One of the warriors is saying just how good her prey is and she can hear her stomach grumbling loudly at the idea of REALLY tasty prey. "Ooooo can I try some?" she says, turning hopeful blue eyes on the cat who had introduced herself as Dolly.
anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
The battered warrior was passin’ by when he laid eyes on the small lot of cats eatin’ prey, introducin’ themselves. He raised a brow in question, tossin’ a glance in Fogbelly and Cloverjaw’s direction until they settled on Dolly eatin’ a bird from the slow-buildin’ freshkill pile. It was a welcomin’ sight since before he left, prey dwindlin’ and yellowcough high in the air that made his stomach sour in thought.
With a sigh, Duskpool dropped his share beside Springkit, letting out a low-sounding grunt. “Best be leavin’ Dolly alone with his own, kiddo,” he grunted, not before gesturing toward the mouse, somethin’ easier to swallow than dealin’ with pluckin’ out feathers. He wasn’t all that hungry. “Why don’t ya take a bite of this one, kiddo? Might be easier to swallow than that bird there.”
Atta boy. Hearing the answering retort, his grin doubled, and he scooted over a touch, allowing a comfortable gap for the Maine Coon to rest in. Warmly, he meowed back in kind as the curious stranger plopped down. "Fogbelly." His own tone carried the last remnants of dreariness. He could see the sleep still clinging to the other's features. Pushing out the squirrel to the other in a polite manner, he added. "It's a pleasure, Cloverjaw." In a split second, he was rather bashful after taking in the bulky feline.
An attractive scar grazed their chin, and stark eyes stood out on a blue palette. You're certainly easy on the eyes. A loud thump roused his drifting mind to the younger feline on their opposite side. His green gaze glinted with bemusement as the other made quick work of their meal. Offering a belated introduction and compliment of the prey in question, Fogbelly chuckled at the good nature, letting his head loll to the left and back to the right. "Nice to meet you, Dolly." His mind rolled the interaction back and forth as he conjured up a quip. "Careful now, too much of that and you might become a bird!" Their maw dropped in dramatic effect as his paw reached up and half covered the surprised 'o' of their mouth. He didn't hold the pose long as his shoulders shook with mirth.
A sudden shout killed the next thought on his tongue as a neutral-looking Duskpool passed by. With a surprised inhale, the warrior called back. "Hi, Springkit!" His neck fur spiked as their mind tried its best to conjure up some kind of answer, but by heaven-send, the kitten was hushed. Awkwardly, the smoke nodded along, sending Duskpool a grateful glance. "He's right - best to stick to easier foods for now!" Fogbelly's clear and concise volume increased a tad before dropping back down to a more acceptable sound. After his last fiasco with kits, the Skyclanner hoped to avoid any further conflicts.
Eager to ignore them and to ease his nerves, the hefty feline peered back at the first cat. Heavy lidded stare dripping with questions as he finally scrounged up the nerve. "Say, if it's not too rude to inquire. How did ya get that scar?" Absently, he made a gesture towards his own chin to mirror which mark they referred to.
∙ Large and muscular
∙ Slow when running/jumping
∙ Fast when kicking/hitting
∙ Hind legs are his most powerful asset
∙ Impressive and nimble climber
∙ Egocentric and snarky
∙ Love's a good joke or prank
∙ Dislike's any cat that talks for too long
∙ Hate's being mistaken for a riverclanner
∙ Enjoy's the taste of squirrel legs
∙ Chaotic neutral
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