Howlpaw moves through the underbrush, the dim light filtering through the branches above casting shadows across its pelt. The frost-coated leaves crunch softly beneath its paws, barely a sound, but enough to heighten the thrill buzzing through its body. The border is just up ahead. Its scent markers drift in and out of Howlpaw's awareness, mingling with the earthy, mossy smell of ShadowClan territory beyond. It smells different—wild, untamed. There's something intriguing about it. As the patrol closes in, Howlpaw doesn't wait for a signal from the others. It turns to glance at the rest of the patrol, its amber gaze intense. The flicker of resistance or hesitation it expects from them never really matters. They can stay behind if they want, wait on the edge of their territory like they're supposed to. Howlpaw doesn't care; it has already made up its mind.
"I'm going over. There's nothing on our side," it states bluntly, voice low but firm. No questions, no doubt, just a simple statement of intent. It doesn't care whether they approve or not, nor is it interested in any debate. This is what it's doing, whether they follow or not. Without waiting for a response, Howlpaw turns and steps across the border. Its paw presses down on foreign soil, and a rush of satisfaction blooms within it. There's no hesitation, no second-guessing. Borders have always seemed pointless to it, more symbols than tangible things. In the end, what is there to stop it? Nothing but old scents and tradition. And tradition, as Howlpaw sees it, rarely makes sense. It moves forward with precision, weaving through the ShadowClan forest, each step light yet purposeful. Its paws lead it deeper into the woods, a shadow among shadows. The scents here are richer, wilder, and it takes it all in, nose twitching as it searches for the faintest hint of prey.
Howlpaw's patience pays off soon enough—a small rustle just to its left catches its attention. It pauses, head lowering, its muscles taut and ready. There's the faint, twitching form of a mouse, oblivious in its movements, scurrying along the roots of a twisted tree. Howlpaw's lips curve ever so slightly, the barest hint of satisfaction flickering across its expression. It drops into a crouch, lowering its body to the ground, amber eyes sharp and locked onto its target. Every muscle in its body moves in sync, instinct driving it forward. In one swift movement, Howlpaw lunges, its claws outstretched. The mouse has no time to flee; it's over in an instant, the satisfying weight of prey warm under its paws. Howlpaw straightens, holding the limp creature in its jaws, pride swelling within it. The kill is small, modest at best, but the satisfaction runs deeper than the catch itself. It's not just prey—it's prey caught on ShadowClan soil. There's a small thrill in the act, the defiance of the boundary, the audacity of taking what others claim as theirs.
[ rolled a 14 for no encounter, 14 for succesful catch, and 3 for small prey ]
[ @tigerwing @STORMYWING @FALLOWBITE @TOADHOP @mottledpaw tags for the patrol! ]
