- Oct 22, 2022
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Four pairs of paws ventured through the tangled undergrowth, parting the tall, encroaching grasses that shroud a soft footpath. The patrol takes a less-trodden route through the territory, one which wanders without destination and eventually veers into the treacherous, mire-laden depths of the marsh—the reason why so few ShadowClan cats tread this way in the first place. Here, even the most practiced paws may lose their footing and slip into the abyss, engulfed by the thick, muddy soil and choked by the water below.
Pretty friggin' unpleasant, but it needs to be done. This new moon marks the last in Greenleaf, and before the clan can so much as reflect on the fact, Leaf-bare will arrive at their border and drag starvation in its wake. The window is wide, and the greenery is still in full bloom, yet the land's promise withers day by day; herbs will shrivel into skeletal husks, as will their bodies, should they not start preparations.
That's what this patrol is for. A thorough exploration of a usually neglected area, in case any untapped potential lies there. Surprise bounties of herbs and material tucked away in secret clearings or dens, just waiting to be scavenged.
The patrol diverges into two groups somewhere down the line; Smogstar and Wormwatcher take the fore while their patrolmates loop into the background. The mire before them is thickest now, swamping the flats and oozing hungrily, endlessly. "One wrong step, and we'll be gobbled right up," Smogstar croons, casting a theatrical gaze to the tom beside him. Scattered clumps of solid ground pepper the marsh, and the waters themselves are deceptively deep, so wading is out of the question. To proceed any further would demand leaping and bounding from patch to patch, while praying their paws won't get sucked into the sediment.
"I'd like to go further," the leader says with a dry huff. "Hang back if you wish—you've only got the one life." Something must be lying in wait on the other side. Some sort of reward for their toils. A steady exhale leaves him then, as his gaze returns to the miry hellscape ahead of them. Digits clench tensely, readying themselves for the leap.
// @Wormwatcher
Pretty friggin' unpleasant, but it needs to be done. This new moon marks the last in Greenleaf, and before the clan can so much as reflect on the fact, Leaf-bare will arrive at their border and drag starvation in its wake. The window is wide, and the greenery is still in full bloom, yet the land's promise withers day by day; herbs will shrivel into skeletal husks, as will their bodies, should they not start preparations.
That's what this patrol is for. A thorough exploration of a usually neglected area, in case any untapped potential lies there. Surprise bounties of herbs and material tucked away in secret clearings or dens, just waiting to be scavenged.
The patrol diverges into two groups somewhere down the line; Smogstar and Wormwatcher take the fore while their patrolmates loop into the background. The mire before them is thickest now, swamping the flats and oozing hungrily, endlessly. "One wrong step, and we'll be gobbled right up," Smogstar croons, casting a theatrical gaze to the tom beside him. Scattered clumps of solid ground pepper the marsh, and the waters themselves are deceptively deep, so wading is out of the question. To proceed any further would demand leaping and bounding from patch to patch, while praying their paws won't get sucked into the sediment.
"I'd like to go further," the leader says with a dry huff. "Hang back if you wish—you've only got the one life." Something must be lying in wait on the other side. Some sort of reward for their toils. A steady exhale leaves him then, as his gaze returns to the miry hellscape ahead of them. Digits clench tensely, readying themselves for the leap.
// @Wormwatcher
