- Mar 4, 2024
- 75
- 22
- 8
Stretching along Twolegplace's border, prey scent wafts toward him. A blessing, certainly, as the continues to sink into frostbite. Hunger does not quite gnaw at his belly yet, but it was an inevitability was it not? Candorpaw stalks forward, a motion he could be confident in, by now. He cannot make out any rustling in the grass, though... All seems silent, aside from the distant shuffling of his own patrolmates. He follows his nose and his nose alone, and though what he smells is undeniably prey, with closeness, so too does the smell of blood shine through.
He does not right himself just yet. No... were the case one of little concern— a squirrel that's grazed its paw whilst rooting for seeds, perhaps... it'd be rather devastating to lose out on it. His tail is raised just above the ground, a verdant gaze is hard in concentration, and yet there is this undeniable truth to the scent that gives him pause... He straightens at last as his nose brings him to quite the sight: buried prey. Though, perhaps to say it was buried would be quite the overstatement. Haphazardly tossed aside, more like, dirt kicked over it as if it were an afterthought... The earth itself is darkened with blood, nearly soaked through. ...No wonder the scent had been as strong as it was.
Warily, he prods at it, uncovering the little bit of earth that it had been buried beneath. He'd considered the possibility... sniffed for any signs of clanmates outside of this very patrol. Perhaps as he thought this, a young apprentice's first outing has commenced... Or perhaps not a young apprentice, but a lazy one... Twice the surprise, though, is the condition of the squirrel. His tail flicks. A steadfast voice sounds in mild alarm. " Twitchbolt! Friends- glimpse this, won't you? "
The kill is brutal, a far cry from the quick snap of the neck any apprentice would be taught on their first outing. Dried blood crusts nearly the entirety of the skull. embedded in it are wolfish bites, as if an attempt had been made to eat it alive, but no... It is merely speared, not eaten. Flayed and left behind... " It is... sloppily done. " A contemplative frown tugs at a pale mask of a face... Who would've done this?, he wonders.
He does not right himself just yet. No... were the case one of little concern— a squirrel that's grazed its paw whilst rooting for seeds, perhaps... it'd be rather devastating to lose out on it. His tail is raised just above the ground, a verdant gaze is hard in concentration, and yet there is this undeniable truth to the scent that gives him pause... He straightens at last as his nose brings him to quite the sight: buried prey. Though, perhaps to say it was buried would be quite the overstatement. Haphazardly tossed aside, more like, dirt kicked over it as if it were an afterthought... The earth itself is darkened with blood, nearly soaked through. ...No wonder the scent had been as strong as it was.
Warily, he prods at it, uncovering the little bit of earth that it had been buried beneath. He'd considered the possibility... sniffed for any signs of clanmates outside of this very patrol. Perhaps as he thought this, a young apprentice's first outing has commenced... Or perhaps not a young apprentice, but a lazy one... Twice the surprise, though, is the condition of the squirrel. His tail flicks. A steadfast voice sounds in mild alarm. " Twitchbolt! Friends- glimpse this, won't you? "
The kill is brutal, a far cry from the quick snap of the neck any apprentice would be taught on their first outing. Dried blood crusts nearly the entirety of the skull. embedded in it are wolfish bites, as if an attempt had been made to eat it alive, but no... It is merely speared, not eaten. Flayed and left behind... " It is... sloppily done. " A contemplative frown tugs at a pale mask of a face... Who would've done this?, he wonders.
