tunnels life beneath ღ mother rabbit

[whitedawn]

Navigating the tunnels was truly a learning process, even if she felt at home in the dark, ever-winding paths. Today, however, was different than her usual training with Ambertail, as it was meant to be a tunneling patrol of other tunneling warriors and their apprentices. With her nose twitching as she followed her mentor's tail, she paused for a brief moment as she caught a scent from one of the winding tunnels. It smelt of the musk of a rabbit and... milk? It was an odd place for such a smell, weak as it was, when compared to the milk-scented nursery back in camp. Blinking, she lingered for a moment before speaking up to alert the patrol and her mentor. "Ambertail? I smell a rabbit but it smells... weird." She whispered, her quiet voice is heard amongst the silence of the dark tunnels around them.
//obligatory mentor tag @AMBERTAIL but anyone can post before! <3​

[I'M BREATHING]​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

Slinking along with the rest of the tunnelers, the calico feels a bit out of place on this patrol. She doesn’t have an apprentice of her own—and isn’t that the most miserable thing? That she’s tagging along with a training patrol, because she has nothing better to do? Not that it isn’t noble, teaching the youth who will grow to form the next generation of WindClan’s underground soldiers, but teaching has never been her strong suit and Scorchstreak is aware of that.

Ahead of her, Whitepaw turns to tell her mentor about the strange scent she’s picked up, and Scorchstreak strides forth to stand beside the apprentice. It does smell odd, and she is hesitant to step on Ambertail’s toes by answering his apprentice’s question, so the calico instead turns in the direction of the scent. "Why don’t we check it out together?" It doesn’t smell like any danger; it smells like a mother and her kits. They will make an easy meal if caught, but if allowed to live the rabbit kits will grow to repopulate the moorland with prey.
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[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[LAMBCURL.]

Lambcurl follows dutifully behind, a ghost - like presence between the few already present. Lambcurl's nose twitches with the assertion made, nonspecific, indeed. Should they treat the scent differently, for all its weirdness? A rabbit – scent or otherwise, was something to latch onto with drooling jaws. A cruel leaf - bare still has him trained into a sharpened tool, always and ever - improving, attuned to the smells and scents around him. He was no fool, though. He knew far from all. The dirt contained crawling things he could never hope to know, though he still would, certainly...

Lambcurl hums in agreement, interest swirling in a clouded gaze, though hidden. He'd been a mouser, before. At some point, not having known the taste or scent of rabbit. And yet, oddly enough, the scent brings back memories of his kithood... Pale curls being groomed by a tongue as still - and - always small paws grasp at nothing. " Like a nursery... " Uttered quiet, but of course, within the darkness of earth, everything could be heard.

〖 OOC 𓆩ꕥ𓆪 NOTES 〗

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  LAMBCURL: HE / HIM , CISGENDER MALE ; GAY & SINGLE, IN LOVE WITH EVERYBODY TBH ; TUNNELER OF WINDCLAN ; 41 MOONS
  
  tiny, curly - furred albino tom with teary pink eyes. ; dreamy – eyed and dreamy – minded, Lambcurl drags himself across the land with an ever-present smile and glassy bug eyes. Deeply honored to hold his position as a tunneler and whisperingly reverent with everything he does. Somewhat unnerving in ideals and the way he speaks, but he means well.
  — tentative voice claim: fox mulder
  

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[► BUNNYPOUNCE.]

RUN RABBIT, RUN RABBIT, RUN RUN RUN
bunnypounce | 22 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally easy | attack in bold hotpink

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Bunnypounce, ever the strange one, hops her way on through the tunnels, pale gaze flitting about the darkness as she takes in the sights and sounds and smells. She's quick to catch up to some others, weaving her way along with a quiet thump thump thump, and she too takes in the strangeness. Once a resident of the nursery herself, though she much preferred the tunnels - she can easily pick up the heady scent of milk. "Mhm - is milk, like kits," she mumbles in agreement with lambcurl, her voice high pitched and whine-like. Lots of mother-creatures have milk she knows - foxes, and stoats, and now rabbits too she guesses. She wonders if birds do to - but she's never seen that, so who knows. "Is eat them?" she asks, head tipping to the side though it is hard to see within the cramped confines of the tunnel.

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