tunnels million different ways to engage } tunnel rebuilding

[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — While she was proud of Scorchstreak's ongoing efforts to construct the tunnel to Riverclan - and more than happy to help when she was needed - Rattleheart was also more than aware of how much upkeep their existing tunnels needed. Thankfully they had already made decent progress on clearing out all of the signs of disuse that had begun to plague the other tunnels, but there had been one that had been lingering on the lead warrior's mind for a while now. The one that Marmotbite had used in her escape, barely managing to bolt out of it and use it to her advantage before it had come crashing down on top of her. Hearing about how she had gotten to them had been harrowing, and it was only a little more upsetting now being confronted with the reality of the situation.

She stood in front of the entrance to the collapsed tunnel, her small patrol of tunnelers behind her as she reached out with a paw, pressing down into the soft, flower-covered ground. "I suppose at least everything has had time to settle. I can't help but wonder how weak the ground around here may be, though." Rattleheart winced as she thought of the after-effects of the collapse, imagining a moor runner taking one unlucky step and ending up crashing into what remained of the collapsed labyrinth of tunnels. If for some reason they couldn't rebuild, they could at least make sure it was safe for everyone to be in the area without worry. "Come on, we'll try to at least dig out part of the entrance on this trip and see if we can reinforce it. Whether we'll even be able to rebuild most of it is... something we'll just have to see." Her small form dipped down into the entrance of the mostly collapsed tunnel, pressing forward until she reached a wall of dirt and debris.

Her long tail flicked forward, motioning for Whitedawn to assist her as she looked back towards Downypaw. "At least we can use this as a learning opportunity... what do you think may have caused this tunnel to collapse, Downypaw?" Knowing the factors that could cause a tunnel to come tumbling down was vital for one's survival while they were underground, and the last thing she wanted to see was Downypaw crushed beneath the weight of tons of dirt and stone. "Whitedawn... you can help her out, if you'd like." Somehow she doubted that Sootspot had ever let others weigh in on what or how Downypaw was learning from him, but she saw no reason to deprive them of valuable perspectives if they could be offered by others.

// @downypaw @whitedawn

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 49 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

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[downyfur]

Downypaw stands besides Rattleheart, white-tipped paws barely making a dent in the flower-strewn lands leading up to the tunnel. This tunnel looks as all tunnels do: innocuous little dips in the land, now hidden by the crowd of flowers gathering in the Newleaf meadows. Rattleheart mentions something about the weakness of the ground, and she resists the temptation to press her feet deeper into the soil to test it, though her tunneler stature means she'd hardly even crease the earth if she did.

They remain quiet as the monochrome warrior leads them into the descent. The tunnels are no longer complete strangers to the apprentice; still, the underground coolness hits her like she's plunged her head underwater. Long whiskers brush the walls as they follow them, and they try their best to tune out the pawsteps of their patrolmates (and themself) as they slink along the musty path.

Rattleheart stops, lobbing a question to them as casually as rolling a mossball. Even so, a spike of anxiety needles her stomach as she realizes she doesn't know. "Um..." Unseen in the dark, they wrap their tail around their left hindleg, the tip of it twitching nervously. Shame burns in their ears when their mentor suggests their patrolmates help them out. The fact she needed help was mildly nauseating at best; not knowing at all was downright disgusting. "I know I should know this..." They trail off, blinking into the ink as if they'd be able to make something out of it. Some tunnelers at the barn had remarked that it was a near-miracle that none of the tunnels collapsed when they and Cottonpaw escaped...maybe there was something in that...?​

 

[DUSTYFOOT]

Dirt has become his second home, and Dustyfoot is well named with such things in mind. For all that Soostar had done in later moons — he is glad that he can hold his name with pride. The warrior trails behind the others with his gaze searching the moors. Being up here was wrong. He felt small, dizzy, like the clouds might descend upon his head. As they come to a stop, the tunneler shifts into a crouch, watching the others slip inside. He is the last to follow, breathing in the familiar dark earth like oxygen after the gorge. Downypaw thinks it's musty. He thinks it's home.

Coming a little closer on crouched paws, the tunnel so narrow it's a squeeze to get to the point that he does, the warrior murmurs, "Let your eyes adjust for a second. Can you see the shapes of the dirt? What direction does it come from?" His near-sightless gaze in this dark still finds Rattleheart's face, hoping for some sense of– of radiating approval that he had spoken instead of Whitedawn. As sure as he may be of his skill, this is still the lead warrior's patrol. And apprentice. "Let your whiskers feel the walls."

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘  ╱ ( 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍? ) 03.18.2024 ꠶ ݁ ˖༄

• OOC. —
• 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓. HE - HIM - HIS. HARDWORKING TUNNELER OF WINDCLAN. ——— hardworking and swift of foot with a dirt-colored pelt fit for the finest of tunnelers, dustyfoot is an overall overage warrior despite his hard, excellently done work. he holds himself to a forgettable standard.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a small seal sepia chimera with dull green-gold eyes. his thick fur gives him the illusion of greater size, quickly dispelled by the sight of his bottlebrush pelt disappearing into the rabbit holes of his clan's territory. made of dark colors darkened further by the dusting of dirt and packed mud, the only part of him that gleam are his teeth through endless chatter and his eyes in their clever gleam.

• "speech"

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