MOVE LIKE A BIRD OF PARADISE — carrionplace

[ROEFLAME .]

ROEFLAME — break the air to feel the fall.
condemned.
Roeflame recalls the Windclan leaders words now as she trails through well-trodden paths around heaps of scraps, rotting things. Her nose crinkles, but the Thunderclanner is quick to remember Chilledstars own words- they had nowhere else to go.
Above her, something creaks, nearby she can hear the skitter of microscopic talons against rough ground.
"Lets make this quick, I can practically taste the disease here." Roeflame, while a bit head-strong at times, was still not foolish enough to come alone, taking along anyone who had been willing to accompany her on this last-resort hunting “patrol.”
Silently, she promises to never take her forest for granted again, desperately missing the feeling of the fresh soil and leaves under her paws as she stretches her claws in discomfort.
Silently, the brass-shaded warrior begins her exploration of weaving between the stinking heaps, ears rigidly alert for any sign of something edible.
What the forest-raised warrior does not expect is the meals to so brazenly come running towards her. The beady eyes of a charging rat are the first thing the tabby sees, gnarled teeth in full view as the thing closes the gap between them, ready to bite.
Instinctively, a forepaw slams down against its slim spine, a crack and high-pitched squeal echoing while Roeflame tried to get a decent killing bite despite its writhing.
"Yeesh." She’d spit, licking crimson from her fangs when the deed was finally done. "Stubborn bastards."

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[DEACON]

The moon, somehow, just kept on getting worse and worse - for RiverClan at least, Deacon was just trying to take each sunhigh as it came, regardless of how increasingly difficult the rogues were making that. His efforts in trying to save the leader had been wasted before, now, the tabby was keen on doing the bear minimum only - that meant joining some other strangers in their journey to supply the clans with some sort of food, no matter how gangrenous or ghastly. "To be fair mate, seems the only place there ain't disease is up in... uh..." He pointed his tail to the sky, swishing it in circles as if it would refresh his memory any better. "Star... whatever it's called." RiverClan had been diseased, SkyClan had been diseased, the united colony was diseased, ShadowClan's camp was diseased, and so was the place of many rats that he was forced to hunt in instead of the bogs. Plodding along like he owned the very marshes he walked upon, Deacon pushed past the gap in the fence and let his eyes bulge at the amount of Twoleg carrion dumped for the clans to see. It'd been some time since he'd seen anything remotely Twoleg related, he didn't miss it.

The sharp, grey claws jutting out from piles of shiny skeletons was somehow more threatening than the no-furs themselves. His spine arched as a wormtailed leech ran towards them, grin splitting his muzzle in anticipation... before Roeflame got to it first, ending its life with as much grace as a headless swan. "Oi! I totally had that one," he complained, sincerely disappointed he had not been able to make the first strike. The black tabby recoiled his neck at his own emotions, looking away to mutter a quick "Huh." He never thought he'd be upset he couldn't contribute, but if being a clan cat meant beating up little creatures that didn't stand a chance then by whatever Gods that graced them, Deacon could make their new allegiance work. Shaking out his coarse fur, he looked back toward the ThunderClanner with a wry smile upon his muzzle, the 'transgression' quickly forgotten. Deacon moved closer to whisper, "Seems a bit naff really, hunting here for all these different cats who don't give a rat's rump about whether we get bit in the process. How about you and me look for some easier prey? Our hosts won't miss a frog or two... come on..."


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[BLUEFROST]

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XXXXXBluepaw had never mastered hunting above ground, and she’s never so much as seen a rat in her life. Still, patrolling through this wasteland of a territory is better than lounging around in mud, so she’d joined the odd-talking tabby and the silvery-red ThunderClan she-cat on their little expedition. The Carrionplace is aptly named, stinking of death and Twoleg refuse. Every pawstep is met with the squelch of mud and rot, and she shudders as she watches the ThunderClanner dispatch the first rat that charges their way. “I have never seen prey so aggressive,” she murmurs to neither cat in particular.

XXXXXShe swings her head to the cat with a very faint riverwater scent in his striped pelt. He suggests pilfering ShadowClan’s frogs and lizards, which cause her to grimace. “I do not particularly care for their rules, but I believe I would rather eat something with fur than slime…” She boldly flicks her green gaze from his paws to the tips of his ears. “WindClan does not eat mud and water prey.”

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[Frostbite]

Frostbite listens to the woes of the other clan cats with a mixture of amusement and irritation. Sure, rats are not to be underestimated. They're smart enough to work as a group and they carry rotten bites that can quickly kill you if not treated. He hunts alongside them at a distance, not exactly happy with their presence on their territory.

But he knows there was no other option. If there are as many rogues as they say, then its best they all stick together. If they didn't have any kits, he'd be quicker to damn them. The thought of those beasts ravaging a camp and killing kits makes him sick, and so he is only slightly glad that Chilledstar took the other clans in. Besides....

If not for Shadowclan, where would they go? They'd be left with nothing and probably be picked off by those rogues and die. Really, they should be grateful for this kindness.

He wants to keep his smug satisfaction to a minimum though. Though, it would be fun to rub it in that after all the insults and remarks about their territory they still came begging for help. Which...Is why he's so annoyed by the judgemental comments being made about their food, honestly. Of course it is from a Windclanner. Sootstar's daughter, no less.

"Food is food." He says. "If one is to survive, they can't be picky." He adds. His voice is cool, but not unkind.


He decides to give those gathered his advice on hunting rats. It would be no good to have cats dying of yellowcough AND rat bites. "While the rats here are much more aggressive than most prey, they are still prey. Once you pounce, make sure to press the rats head down to keep it from biting and then kill it as quickly as possible. They're very good at escaping." He says. Of course, there is always the risk of getting bitten in the paw by a rat who is prepared or if you aren't pressing hard enough, but life is full of risks. He glances to Roeflame. "You did well, though."

Normally he'd let them figure things out on their own, but letting them get sick would likely cause more problems for Shadowclan,either by cats demanding help or....By littering the burnt sycamore with bodies that all would likely end up attracting predators, not to mention making the worst smell imaginable.​

 

[hollowcreek]

The cold, stinking earth of Carrionplace under his paw pads used to be a distant memory. When driven into absolute desperation, cats would risk the run of rat bites and other sickness that came from the actual carrion in there. Hollowcreek had once thought himself above such desperation, he would rather dig around for moles, but they were not allowed in those parts of ShadowClan.

Large paws traveled in a surprising light gait, habit from remaining undetected from rabbits for so long. He kept his nose pointed to the air but there was hardly even a gust between the mountains of twoleg trash to catch something substantial.

A ThunderClanner whose name he hasn't cared to remember detected a presence, and unexpectedly is charged at by one of the many rats that took shelter here. She's quick, she's lucky, and managed to kill it with no injury. Bluepaw commented on the contentious behavior of their prey and nodded.

"Their bites aren't even the worst of it, it's what comes after. I've seen cats destroyed by the effects of their bites, we used to call it rat-bite fever. After the fever its all stiff joints and uncontrollable infection." He almost regretted what he said as now it looked hardly appetizing anymore. Frostbite added his own helpful tip in avoiding bites at all, but nothing about when they swarmed. One rat was dangerous enough, but any more than that and the possibility of a bite only ticked upward. ​

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[Petalnose]

Petalnose wasn't a big fan of the prey either. The rats would have been a better selection if they hadn't carried diseases, a little fight from her prey she could manage. Maybe she'd actually enjoy it. The reptiles and amphibians Shadowclan possesed did peak her interest, the animals were bizarre and she was more interested to figure them out rather than eat them. The textures from them she wasn't the biggest fan of, even if they were close in resemblance to fish. However, whining about it wasn't something she tended to do. Rather.. it was annoying to her even if she had agreed. Her long pointed ears pinned back, turning her attention away from her clanmates, "Complaining isn't going to get you anywhere." She pointed firmly, heaving her lungs in a frustrated sigh.

Then a white furred shadowclanner spoke and she grunted in agreement, listening to his words with an interested gleam in her frustrated expression.

Hollowcreek then spoke words of complaint and education which made her grunt with a roll of her eyes, "It's better than starving to death, yes? All we need to do is take precautions and be stealthy. We could be eating worms."

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[cocoshine]

Hunting in the carrionplace is... Dreadful, to say the least. ShadowClan smells bad. Cocoshine already knew that from the limited gatherings she's been to, and although many forest cats do seem to carry an interesting scent to them there is something to be said for the musty and moist garbage smell that hangs off the marsh clan's coats. If Cocoshine is coming around the carrionplace, it's to get away from the burnt sycamore where everyone seems to be making eyes at each other and tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

Here, the oriental spots a ThunderClan cat that has dispatched a rat. While she does agree with Bluepaw's sentiments- her clanmate is remiss to suggest they try and trade it for one of ShadowClan's nastier bites- she'd rather just not eat at all. She grimaces at the idea of thinking any amount of that freakish rodent would be suitable prey. Especially after Hollowcreek chimes in and grossly describes rat bite infections to a captive audience. Why did she ever envy Momowhisker for becoming one of these brutish rat-eaters?

"Thanks for the pep talk, but I'd rather starve than eat a rat," Cocoshine quips at Petalnose, annoyance palpable in her tone though she refrains from letting loose any of the names she wants to call the RiverClan lead warrior. Fish face, though uncreative, comes to mind. 'Worms and lizards are close enough to what you eat all the time anyway,' Cocoshine thinks bitterly, but whether caused by either her hunger or the loosened morale of all the clans, she doesn't have it in her to spit the insult all the way out.

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