camp LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO | intro

[OSPREYTALON]

With Greenleaf fast-set upon the forest and everything alight with new growth, Ospreytalon has gotten used to the sounds of birds in the trees once more. It's always a relief when the winter months pass and the thaw truly sets in; a breath of fresh air fills the frigid ribcage condensed over ThunderClan camp with every scuffling mouse in the undergrowth, or green fern unspooling in the dappled canopy shade. It's certainly a weight off his shoulders. But the season comes with its own dangers.

He's just leaving the warrior's den when it happens. A tranquil morning, cold and gray and misty. The sun hasn't quite crept over the horizon, but already birds chitter excitedly in the trees for the oncoming day.

There's no forewarning before a little songbird—a chickadee—careens down from the overgrowth and collides with the exterior of the warrior's den.

Ospreytalon is interrupted mid-step. He goes to check on the tiny creature and finds the effort lacking. In the leaf-litter it lays, unmoving and already cold; dead from the collision, or...whatever had ruined its trajectory so terribly. Did it get confused, he wonders? Or was it so excited for the oncoming morning that it simply stopped paying attention to exactly where it was flying?

"Hm," Ospreytalon hums, retracting his paw. There's not much more to say than that.​

 

[Mothsqueak!]

Squeak Squeak​

---

Mothsqueak had been attempting to slip out of the warrior's den without disturbing anyone when she came to a halt, almost bumping into the form of Ospreytalon, letting a squeak out the girl was quick to go around the other before spotting the dead chickadee in a leafy pile, frowning a bit she looked at the other warrior a bit. Green-leaf was upon them, so close and around the edges but...still, something Mothsqueak struggled with was death, even that with creatures that they hunted.

"P-poor l-little guy..." she said softly before pausing a bit, she knew it would possibly be tossed into the fresh-kill pile and taken to be eaten but... she still felt bad for it, her eyes drifting towards the others before letting out soft nervous laughter out as her ears flattened on her skull and she shrank a little bit. "P-perhaps...w-we should...j-just set i-it in the fresh k-kill pile, I-I'm s-sure someone would...e-enjoy it" she would suggest over towards the other warrior, the cool air of morning nipped her nose a bit, and soon enough her eyes began scanning the clearing looking for a reason to slip away from the other trying to find things to talk about

"W-what p-patrols are y-you g-going on?" she would quickly ask, hoping her first comment would be swept by her nervous chatter...that she had accidentally started in the first place. Soon enough, she knew others would awake and could take a chance to break away while others would perhaps greet the older warrior or task him with duties for the day.​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[crowflower]

Always among the first to rise, Crowflower is already busy with her morning routine: carrion too far gone for the fresh-kill pile has been cleared away and she has started to gather fresh moss for the apprentices to use in their den-cleaning duties later today. Recently, she has been trying to maintain a sleeker appearance, so her skunk-colored pelt isn't quite as snarled as usual, but her white-mitten paws have already become muddied despite her best efforts. She is trotting back toward the warrior den with some new bedding for her own nest when she witnesses the moment of impact. A chickadee crashing into the wall of the warrior's den and falling to ground, dead on impact. She stops short and stares for a very long, silent moment. A prickle of unease creeps through her pelt. She is forced to set the soft bedding aside so that she can itch at her flank, though it does little to ease her superstition. "Bad omen or good luck?" she comments after Mothsqueak. Despite her suspicion, Crowflower decides that it would be unwise to turn down free prey, especially after such a difficult Leaf-bare. She glances at Ospreytalon and Mothsqueak and offers them a friendly smile.​

 

[nightbird]

prey seldom came falling into their hungry jaws. but yet, a songbird barrels right from the sky. it was an odd sight, certainly not an action from choice as the creature was cold upon inspection. ospreytalon is the first to investigate, the tabby emerging from the warriors den to prod it with a paw.

mothsqueak is quick to follow, gentle disposition alarmed by the death. poor guy she utters, but is it any more poor than prey brought down with teeth? this was a more peaceful death, if anything this bird was one of the luckier ones. it did not matter much however, it would end up on the fresh kill pile all the same. nightbird sits as crowflower approaches, spine pricked with ebony fur. the molly questions the birds arrival once again, leaving the lead warrior once again confused. it was prey, and they were wasting time sitting around questioning it's descent from the sky into their camp. "'s just a bird," she huffed, tail sweeping over her paws. "just because it forgot how to fly doesn't mean we have to spend all day here starin' at it." ​

 

[SHININGSUN]

☼ "I reckon that was StarClan saying 'eat your breakfast', heh! Eat up Ozzy!" Shiningsun joked with a wink as he looked in Ospreytalon's direction, chuckling to himself all the while. He held doubts that it was some omen or the like, heck, he didn't believe it to be a gift from StarClan either, not really. All animals had accidents, it was simply a part of life, and unfortunately the bird had experienced its final one. "Anyway, good morning everyone! So, what duties does everyone have today? I'm itching to get started!"
​

 

[Falconpaw]

Falconpaw was startled by the sound of something crashing; it's loud louder then he'd ever expect a small bird colliding with something could be the fur on his back is prickled as he turns on his paws to investigate. Already a small crowd stood before the dead thing - prey truly was falling into their paws now wasn't it quiet literally. Part of him wanted to take Shiningsun's jest seriously; Starclan really was blessing them he wonders if every greenleaf was this way. He sure hopes so, he'd despised leafbare but if getting through it meant more prey to line the freshkill pile he thinks he can weather it for many seasons to come. The idea it could be an omen was brought up when he was approaching it really was hard to tell but he was optimistic; it could've just been nothing as well... ❝Should I fetch Berryheart?❞ he asks looking towards the warriors curiously ❝Just in case it's a omen or sign or something?❞​

( ✦ )

 

[OSPREYTALON]

Immediately the hustle and bustle begins. Ospreytalon stands an immovable pillar against the swelling tide of ThunderClanners, both drawn forth and repelled by the strange mundanity of this morning distraction, and revels a bit in the familiarity of it all. He appreciates the sympathy of some; understands the dismissal of others. It's quite a reaction to a small bird lying dead and cold on the ground—surrounded by questions, Ospreytalon tries to think of what he'd do were he alone. But there's nothing to really think about. He hasn't truly been alone in a long time.

Falconpaw poses a good question, though. He's got a good head on his shoulders, pensive and thoughtful compared to the sea of warriors who have mostly already made up their minds. Osprey spares him a glance, then makes a decision. "No," he says. Not to undermine Berryheart's authority, but: "Food is food. If it's an omen, Berryheart'll know I was the one who fucked it up."

So he scoops up the little songbird between his teeth and deposits it on the freshkill pile. Were he a younger tom, Shiningsun's chipperness so early in the morning and penchant for nicknames would have set his teeth on edge; now, he peers at the young warrior from the corner of his eye and spares a wry smile. The brightness of him is somewhat infectious, though Ospreytalon's expression soon smooths into something more familiar to him as he spares Nightbird, Crowflower, and Mothsqueak a glance—unfettered and slightly dull. "Hunting by the sycamore today. If anyone cares to join me, eat something now."​

 

[crowflower]

Crowflower shifts her gaze to observe those who arrive after her. She is content to watch their individual reactions, the beginnings of an amused smile slowly spreading across her features at Nightbird's dismissal of the superstition around the bird's strange and sudden death. Especially with the arrival of Shiningsun, the stoic lead warrior stands in stark contrast to the upbeat tomcat. Night and day. Sun and moon. Her attention is caught by Falconpaw's question. Should they fetch Berryheart? Probably not. She only sort of believes that the dead bird is an omen, and that's mostly because she has an overactive imagination. She is always looking for meaning in places where there is none. However, she finds the apprentice's question, and Ospreytalon's response to it, to be rather charming.

"I've already eaten," she replies in a soft voice, offering Ospreytalon a small smile. "I'm ready to leave whenever." Her mossy green eyes sparkle with good cheer. She loves hunting by the sycamore. Tree-climbing is always a fun challenge during Newleaf; so many bird nests, so many delicious eggs. But she will probably save that particular excursion for after she's caught enough fresh-kill for the clan. ​

 

[SHININGSUN]

☼ Shiningsun had to agree with Ospreytalon, food was food, and it certainly shouldn't go to waste either. He gave a nod of his head as he listened to the other warrior further as hunting was put on the agenda. Excellent! He wouldn't dream of missing it so he hurried to pluck a small mouse from the pile to fill his belly. It was all he needed for the time being before he returned to Ospreytalon and Crowflower whilst licking the remains of the fur and blood from his lips. "I'm ready to go too. Maybe if we're lucky a few more birds will fling themselves our way."
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