like scared little rabbits — racing

[applebite]

˖ ׄ ׅ ⠀⠀ millhaven⠀⠀ ୨୧ ginger peeks atop featherings of heather, cold and blue with frost. the moorlands were pelted in swathes of ice, slickening the ground in semi - wet patches. applebite picks through the undergrowth with a huff, pointlessly ignoring the way her breath billows up around her short muzzle. the freshkill pile was ever - dwindling and still there is no luck to be found above ground. ever since the incident with hyacinthbreath — the name earns a derisive flick of her ear, even alone — the molly had found no fun being in camp. unless she had a nice, fat rabbit to flaunt before her clanmates with, she had little interest in milling about the thinning gorse. her paws itch, burn with energy and she has to move, lifting her chin to strut purposefully a couple strides away before promptly lowering her nose to a different patch. perhaps it’s futile now but still she stands, attempting to pry past the scent of dew and ice that covers these hills. back to the tunnels it is, then. but the air is so brisk, and the woman flicks a small ear, irritable in her isolation. she’d spent so much time underfoot, she was beginning to feel like a burrowing rabbit herself.

it’s then she hears it — voices, not too far away. she pops her head over an arching hill and there, a little further down the way, was a small group of windclanners. they seemed to have just as much luck as she had above ground, and though a glint of frustration passes over her face, it shifts quickly. her plumelike tail kinks back, splaying and warming the thinner fur along her spine in swathes of red, if only by a little bit, “ eek! it’s so chilly! “ comes her bubbly trill, riding on the tail end of a purr once close enough to be heard. the woman stops about a tail length away, popping her forearms out to stretch, lean muscles around her shoulders flexing beneath fuzzy white fur. gleaming emerald eyes remained fixed on them, crinkled at the edges by a blinding smile, “ wanna race? bet it’ll get us warmed up quick — ! “ she perks back up, giving her coat a slight shake to rid herself of the frost that dusts copper ends. if she couldn’t find any damned rabbit, at least she could make these poor fools eat her dust. small victories!

༻ out of character information visual reference ༺

• APPLEBITE ; f. she / her : a small - framed, fuzzy red ticked tabby with high white & honeydew eyes. she is prim, delicate - featured with round, fluffy cheeks and long, curled whiskers.
  − lesbian, fourty months old ; penned by antlers
  
  
• 
  
  

​

 

[LYNXTOOTH.]

lynxtooth turns from the conversation — tedious but necessary, discussions of prey and split patrols, territory coverage, concerns for the looming winter — who would they let die? —

his sister. he quirks an eyebrow, amused as ever by her nature. cute thing, she always was. annoying, heather-scented, strangely gentle. she grew up vicious as the rest of them — he holds a measure of respect for her, now.

"applebite," he greets, absent of warmth and certainly lacking her... enthusiasm, but he isn't unhappy to see her. his tail will flick toward her, ginger plume aiming to brush her own pelt in an almost-friendly greeting — twin red rarities on these moors, with souls to match their burning coats. then her proposition, and now he is excited: his mouth twists into a wild snarl, eyes alight.

oh, she wants to race?

"certainly."

... tags.​

 

[Moonshadow]

( ♬ ) Moonshadow would turn her stoic gaze onto Applebite as the pretty molly made an appearance and she would dip her head in a polite greeting. She wasn't super familiar with the red-ticked molly and her siblings, but the kind appearance and purr in her words would give off the impression that she was at least a few degrees nicer than her brothers.

At the prospect of a race, Moonshadow would appear thoughtful before Lynxtooth piped up and the black smoke would blink softly as she meowed, "I will watch, no need to put you both to shame by participating." She would look towards a small hill as she continues, "But perhaps I can decide the winner?" ​

( TELL ME THE REASONS; FOR ME TO TRUST YOU )

 

[MALLOWLARK]

As children on the moors- when the moors had been theirs alone, no Queen to rule them, no Stars and no Mother- Mallow and Echo had often found fun in racing. Being swifter and smaller, Echo had often- well, always- been the winner. She had a frame built for sailing across the moorland, and while Mallowlark was faster than most of his size he could not compete with the more aerodynamic members of the clan. Plus, when he ran it sounded like a bounder had been pushed rather violently down a hill... hah, if he fell over, would he squish someone too?

Bright grin set upon stark-snow features, Mallowlark could not help but eavesdrop upon the plans being made between Applebite and Lynxtooth, commented on by the lingering shade of Moonshadow. Joyful phantom ink-dipped, he sidled up beside her, owlish eyes moving like clockwork between them. Tick-tock, orderly eye-contact. Friends deserved his full attention, after all. A giggle shuddered from him, chittering through the gaps of his fanged smile. "Oh, I'll play too!" For this was a game, was it not? Vision snapping quick as lightning to Moonshadow, he cocked his head to the side a little too much. Attempting to bump her on the shoulder (though perhaps it had been too hard a blow), Mallowlark laughed, "Oh, c'mon! What's the point of being speedy if you don't show it off?" ​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[✧ Branchfall.]

GOT GUMMYWORMS STUCK IN MY TEETH​

shoelace | 18 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally medium | attack in bold red​

---

"I wanna race too!" comes the childish whin of the molly, who quite frankly seems to pop up out of nowhere to join the conversation. The scrawny, flea-ridden girl hadn't even been part of either hunting group - in fact, she'd been hobbling around in the snow for fun and nothing more. Head cocks to the side as she rocks back and forth, grin just a bit to sharp and a bit to wide to be considered friendly. "Betcha' I'll win," she chirps cheerily, although she doubts it. Climbing and leaping are much more suited to her, with her upbringing and all, but she's certainly fast. Just not born-and-bred windclan fast, she thinks.

 

[Badgermoon]

Cresting a small hill nearby, Badgermoon appeared late but just in time to catch wind of the activity which was in the works: a race! An utter waste of their time and energy, with a potential for hurt feelings to catch yet more discord between Clanmates...or, at least, that was one way to look at it. It was much more fun to think of it as an excuse to gauge the condition of his fellow WindClanners. Their energy levels, their speed, even their willingness to socialize or their grace in victory (or loss!) - a race was a perfect opportunity for him to spectate and gather a little information, if he was lucky. Fun and useful - my favorite. the broad-shouldered tom slid down the icy hummock on which he had been perched and flashed a smile at his assembled Clanmates - though not as bright, nor as toothy, as Mallowlark's. "Please, may I take the role of adoring audience? Someone must be there to encourage the competitors." by no means was he interesting in racing; quite apart from being worn out today, it would distract him from his data-gathering, if you could call it that.​

 

[Firefang]

Firepaw wouldn't say she was the fastest runner in the clan, not even close but she wasn't slow either not like Snailpaw anyway; and she was getting better at running across the moors with every moon that passed. Soon she'd be able to keep up with even the fastest rabbit she was certain, all she needed was some time and some pushing and a competition sounded perfect to ignite the flame of determination that rested in her core. If she could keep up with the Moorrunners then she was already in good shape and they'd be impressed by her, that was the goal and she's sure if she does her very best she could at least keep up with their heels. It'd prove to them too she was nearly ready to join their ranks, something she desperately wanted to do while she wasn't the oldest apprentice she felt she'd been one long enough. She just had to show the clan her prowess and while she expected to wait another moon at least she could start putting in the work now even if this was all just friendly competition (to them) anyway.

She creeps over being sure to avoid being too close to Mallowlark, her gaze resting on Applebite she tried to look confident standing her among her older clanmates her chest puffing up and shoulders squaring to look bigger then she was. To try to look like an adult despite her soft features and all to fluffy pelt. ❝Applebite❞ she dips her head respectfully yet her ears fall tilting backwards, her claws pressing into the snow and dirt nervously ❝Can I join too? I know I can keep up!❞ she knew well enough winning was a impossibility - even if distantly she wishes she could.
​

( PLACE ME IN MY CASKET TONIGHT ; BECAUSE IM ALREADY DYING INSIDE )