- Dec 17, 2022
- 489
- 146
- 43
"Leafbare's supposed to be a full cycle of the moon away," the lead warrior grumbles; leaves brittle with frost snap under his paws, no matter how carefully he moves. Raccoonstripe blends into the dead brown forest, but the foliage rattles with ice, and he's never been as light on his paws as cats like Flamestar or Nightbird. The tabby's expression is disgruntled, even before they make it to Snakerocks, and by then, the sun is a pale, whitish circlet in the blank sky above them.
He says, "Spread out. We should cover as much ground as we can." To Scarletpaw, he flicks his tail toward a pile of stones just near the treeline: "Maybe try there. Remember, light on your paws, and watch for adders. They don't usually come out when it's this cold, but we shouldn't take any chances."
Raccoonstripe slips away, dark eyes burning with concentration. His kits have never known the discomfort of the cold, the empty bellies that leafbare brings, and stars, if he can avoid it, he'd like to start stockpiling before the true cold comes for them. He's sure the cold snap is temporary, but if it's not, well...
Something scrabbles in the stone adjacent to him, and he swipes his tongue about his muzzle. "Perfect," he murmurs. The noises heighten, and he sees the gleam of midday sun on silvery whiskers as a tiny black nose pokes itself from a slim crack in the stone. Raccoonstripe freezes and flattens himself until his belly is scraping the icy earth. The mouse slips out, tentative, its body quivering — it's as surprised as the cats are that it's this cold out, he wagers.
He wastes little time. Raccoonstripe moves swiftly; the mouse barely has time to squeal before he's sank his teeth into it's midsection and crushed its body.
Something snaps! in the undergrowth behind him. Raccoonstripe turns, eyes narrowing into shadowed slits. The mouse drops to his paws. "Is someone there?" He's upwind from whatever it is — but when he tastes the air, it's rancid, like crowfood. The fur prickles along his spine, just as an auburn muzzle protrudes through the thinning greenery.
The dark tabby's pelt begins to spike. "Fox!" Their safety takes priority over the hunt — and no doubt, this rank creature has come to steal from the more fortunate cats after its own hunting failure. Its body is thin from hardship, and wounds litter its pelt, like its been chased from other borders. Raccoonstripe can see its beady dark eyes shooting to the mouse between his forepaws, and he squares his shoulders. A snarl rips through his throat.
"Back off," he warns, but the creature is desperate. It shoots forward, swifter than it has any right to be, and Raccoonstripe meets it halfway. Those rancid teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder, but instead of yelping, he draws his claws angrily into the russet fur at its flank. It withdraws, blood darkening its sinister grin, before it reaches in and snatches the mouse.
"That's mine," Raccoonstripe yowls, but the wound hinders his movement — he tries to jerk his body forward, after the creature, but the pain is blinding and red; he stumbles forward a few steps, his teeth clenched against the sting. "Don't let it take... your catch...!" And stars, don't let it catch you off guard!
He says, "Spread out. We should cover as much ground as we can." To Scarletpaw, he flicks his tail toward a pile of stones just near the treeline: "Maybe try there. Remember, light on your paws, and watch for adders. They don't usually come out when it's this cold, but we shouldn't take any chances."
Raccoonstripe slips away, dark eyes burning with concentration. His kits have never known the discomfort of the cold, the empty bellies that leafbare brings, and stars, if he can avoid it, he'd like to start stockpiling before the true cold comes for them. He's sure the cold snap is temporary, but if it's not, well...
Something scrabbles in the stone adjacent to him, and he swipes his tongue about his muzzle. "Perfect," he murmurs. The noises heighten, and he sees the gleam of midday sun on silvery whiskers as a tiny black nose pokes itself from a slim crack in the stone. Raccoonstripe freezes and flattens himself until his belly is scraping the icy earth. The mouse slips out, tentative, its body quivering — it's as surprised as the cats are that it's this cold out, he wagers.
He wastes little time. Raccoonstripe moves swiftly; the mouse barely has time to squeal before he's sank his teeth into it's midsection and crushed its body.
Something snaps! in the undergrowth behind him. Raccoonstripe turns, eyes narrowing into shadowed slits. The mouse drops to his paws. "Is someone there?" He's upwind from whatever it is — but when he tastes the air, it's rancid, like crowfood. The fur prickles along his spine, just as an auburn muzzle protrudes through the thinning greenery.
The dark tabby's pelt begins to spike. "Fox!" Their safety takes priority over the hunt — and no doubt, this rank creature has come to steal from the more fortunate cats after its own hunting failure. Its body is thin from hardship, and wounds litter its pelt, like its been chased from other borders. Raccoonstripe can see its beady dark eyes shooting to the mouse between his forepaws, and he squares his shoulders. A snarl rips through his throat.
"Back off," he warns, but the creature is desperate. It shoots forward, swifter than it has any right to be, and Raccoonstripe meets it halfway. Those rancid teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder, but instead of yelping, he draws his claws angrily into the russet fur at its flank. It withdraws, blood darkening its sinister grin, before it reaches in and snatches the mouse.
"That's mine," Raccoonstripe yowls, but the wound hinders his movement — he tries to jerk his body forward, after the creature, but the pain is blinding and red; he stumbles forward a few steps, his teeth clenched against the sting. "Don't let it take... your catch...!" And stars, don't let it catch you off guard!
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ooc: @Scarletpaw @PALEFIRE @LAUGHBLOSSOM
racc rolled for a predator to be stalking the patrol; he rolled a 9, which means the predator will steal his catch :3 make your own rolls, but remember you must roll for a predator's presence! -
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Raccoon. Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
— "speech”, thoughts, attack
— 46 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
— mentored by n/a ; mentoring Scarletpaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
— thunderclan lead warrior.gray wolfxhowlingstar, gen 2.
— currently mated to Nightbird.
— penned by Marquette.
lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.
