pebble brain // gravelpaw

[icebreath]

TAGS — Icepaw knows it's against the rules to traverse the tunnels alone; they can be treacherous at times, and she's only a little over halfway through her training so she knows she has a lot more to learn. Still, sometimes she's too impatient to wait around for a partner, or she needs alone time in her favorite part of the territory. The underground is dangerous, but it's peaceful as well, so removed from everything else. No thick snow to trip all over, no drama to think about, just dirt and rock and darkness. It's comforting. So she often sticks to the shallower swathe of tunnels close to the surface on her solo adventures, clearing out debris and keeping a metaphorical eye out for any prey she can catch. It's almost too easy to nab hibernating rodents when she's able to find them.

Right now she's swept up in the former task — more of a chore, really, but busywork is still entertaining in its own way. It's easy to fixate on it, letting her body take over while her thoughts run wild, conversations raging on in her head about this and that. This same head suddenly pops out of a hole in the ground, jaws wrapped around a loose bundle of branches and roots that she's quick to spit out into the snow.

@GRAVELPAW​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

It isn’t that Gravelpaw enjoys breaking rules, bending them, stretching them. They just happen to have a useless mentor who knows nothing about training an apprentice. They’re out on their own, picking their way across the land, hoping to catch sight of a stray, idiotic mouse that hasn’t yet hidden away for the winter.

The blue-striped head that suddenly pops up from a tunnel startles a growl out of the monochrome apprentice; their lip curls back to expose small, sharp teeth. It takes a heartbeat for the face of Icepaw to register in their head, and chestnut eyes narrow at the pointed tunneler. "Why," they whisper, struck nearly breathless by fright.

"What are you doing?" They ask, tone accusatory, frown clear on their muzzle. They’re almost certain that Icepaw shouldn’t be out here on their own; though, by their own admission, neither should Gravelpaw. No one’s stopped them, though, so they can’t truly be blamed. They tilt their head to the side, stepping closer to the hole that Icepaw’s head pokes from. A pristine white paw catches on one of the branches that they deposited on the ground, and Gravelpaw grimaces as they swat it away. "And can I join? I’m not familiar with the tunnels or their… sticks."
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

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