little dark age — night hunting

[mottlefox]

// this thread takes place the night after the august meeting!

With the meeting over, Ivyback had pulled Mottlepaw off to the side to explain that, before the next meeting, he would be having his warrior assessment. The main task would be night hunting, one of ShadowClan's specialties. Mottlepaw had flopped over dramatically at the news, earning a gentle cuff across the ears. Yes, she knows he's not great at it. But Sabletuft has agreed to help oversee. That news perks him right up; the lead warrior is someone Mottlepaw admires, considers a friend. And, he had a whole moon until the next meeting- there was plenty of time to practise.

The near-full moon rises above Mottlepaw's head as he and Ivyback exit the camp with a pawful of warriors, some apprentices likely along for the ride, and they head towards Carrionplace with a pep in their step and a plan in their head. They'll have to visit the stream separating the treacherous twoleg trinket heaps on the way home, but they think it's a solid plan. About two thirds of the way there, he drops down to roll twice through the mud, and mask her cat-scent with the swamp muck. It does a little to conceal her pelt, too, white strands of fur muddied with swamp and pine needles.

Quite pleased, she traipses up to a Clanmate and extends a paw.

"Hey, can you smell me under all this?"​

 

[♡ Thicketpaw.]

♥​♥ THEY SAY THESE ARE THE GOLDEN YEARS ♥♥​

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thicketpaw & 05 moons & intersex & she/her & shadowclan apprentice​

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Eyes wide, thicketpaw takes a moment to stare at mottlepaw - more than a moment really, but to the girl it's only a few seconds. Nose twitches, tail flicks, and then she finally speaks. "Not... really?" it comes out sounding more like a question than a solid answer, and head bobs for a moment. "Why?" she asks, confusion clear. She's new to this whole apprentice thing, and can't understand why the other girl would want to roll about in the marshland muck. Doesn't it leave her feeling gross?

— but i wish i could disappear ♥

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — gold and chocolate furred chimera with wide doe brown eyes and a strangely deer-like build. often looks utterly confused or lost in thought, her long tail is constantly in motion even when the rest of her is not. she cries a lot.
  
  — physically easy && mentally easy
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not-allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#daa520]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[hitch]

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"Trying out some camouflage?" Rosemire asks as he rolls his shoulders. He thinks he might've pulled something, and his skin's a bit sore from the sun— probably didn't manage to apply enough mud to that spot on his back during the day. He might have thought Mottlepaw odd for willingly rolling in mud if they lived in any other clan, and if he weren't paler than freshly-fallen snow's backside. He assumes it has more to do with the former than the latter, though, given Mottlepaw doesn't have to hide from daylight like Rosemire does. Not to mention the moon's the only source of light at the moment. So: camouflage.

Thicketpaw hadn't reached that conclusion, though, but she's a young apprentice so she gets leeway for it. "I can't smell much of you, either. A tip for later, though: tug off as much as you can when it's dry before taking a dip. Mud's worse when it's wet."
​

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[FERNDANCE]

It seemed that Mottlepaw was gearing up for her warrior name to become Mottlemud. Bemused, she eyed the mess that they had made with her pelt, a proud little smile appearing on her muzzle. Rolling around in the mud itself was a fun game, the new sensations and textures were enough to appease a bored mind for a while, but she tilted her head from one side of her body to the other when it became apparent that the apprentice hadn't just done it for entertainment - unless, of course, she too had a knack for asking questions that left others confused. An ear twitched in Thicketpaw's direction when the possibility that Mottlepaw was a little devious became apparent, but then Rosemire mentioned the possibility of camouflage and she made a quiet 'oh' sound at the realization. As a hunter, concealing one's scent made sense, it was a solid backup should the wind change direction or the prey have good enough eyesight to spot the splashes of white behind dark pines. She was lucky with her own pelt, though not as dark as the night sky, it had enough reds and browns to conceal her well against the backing of bark and bramble.

The cinnamon tabby inhaled loudly, making a deliberate effort to try and smell Mottleaw from a short distance away. "Faintly, like the heartbeat of dying prey," she affirmed, mouth salivating at the thought. She could do with a juicy morsel once they had returned to camp (or one before, should she be able to sneak away long enough). "I doubt the frogs could sniff you out if that is what you were after." She gave another quick glance to Rosemire, nose twitching at the memory of the shared experience with mud they'd had moons ago. It took the will of the Stars themselves not to push him in and relive those good times, even as she focused on Mottlepaw again, her alabaster forepaw lifted as if tempting the idea. "Unless you were just muddying yourself for us, in which case, you've done a very good job. Very... ShadowClan." She gave a nod of her head.

​

 

[mottlefox]

Oh, he has never seen Thicketpaw look this confused. And yet she obliges this weird request, nose twitching as she tries and apparently fails to pick up the cat-scent under the muck. He takes note of it immediately, tucking it into the pile labelled good ideas in his brain. Even Ferndance can only catch the faintest whiff; if he keeps himself downwind, he'll be sorted!

"'Yeah!" He meows proudly, nodding at Rosemire's explanation and nodding again at his advice to shake most of it off before he tries to wash it out (he will forget this immediately). Ferndance has a point, though, frogs can't smell very well ... but maybe this would help with stray prey that wanders in from their neighbours! To Thicketpaw, who might be catching on by now, he continues, "It'll help me hunt. I've got my assessment coming up so I'm trying new strategies to make sure I pass it easy breezy-like."
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