tunnels no such thing as light ꕥ hunting

[LAMBCURL.]

Lambcurl could never quite see well. And the darkness never quite helped. The most it did was abate the burning. He could look upon dirt in a way he could not look upon snow, it's glory too blinding, and clearly, he has not given enough, no. Too clumsy, too selfish... either or, and he may be driven to tears. Nature's sweet revenge, or the revenge of something much higher. Beyond his own imagination, oh maybe. He was not so foolish as to think himself above it all, even if he did his best to abide...

Eyes may be weak, but his nose always knows, and whiskers always follow... It's his honor, his joy to lead something like this. Beneath blankets and blankets of snow, it was the few of them trusted to thrust forward. At the head of it all, oh, he fears nothing. Even if tales rang of tunnels made of bone, he puts himself up to the slaughter. Not because he was the sharpest. Not because he knew the bone would be felt before any event could follow, but because he was unafraid of such a downfall. If his entombment lead the rest of them to bountiful prey, then his job will have been well done...

Apprentices among them, he supposes he should take a moment to teach. The words don't come quickly. Certainly, oh certainly, not a veteran to it all himself, but oh, something... "What do we always look for? Look and listen..." The trail did not smell so plentiful today, but perhaps if he strained... there was a lingering promise within the soil. A rabbit, oh, he hoped, but he was hardly picky... He'd scrape through the walls if he had to. He did what he could to please... How long without fruits of labor could they go before its a waste of time? "How long, I wonder..." Maybe, at some point, maybe simply digging would be better. For worms, for burrows... though they may only be punished for the ladder.

[ @SMOKEPAW @nettlepaw. @curlewnose sorry for the wait <3 ]​

 

[curlewnose]

"leave those snails alone, they've got problems of their own"​

Curlew caught the scent of a mouse as he listened to Lambcurl’s words for the youngest in the group. ”Mouse!” he whispered, feeling the thrill of the hunt seep into his limbs. Using his tail to tell the others his movements, he started off after the scent trail. After only a few fox-lengths, it died off. The tom pawed at the ground in frustration, dissipating some of the tingly energy in his paws. ”Fox-dung,” Curlew spat, sniffing the ground to see if anything else was traveling in his domain on this cold day.
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