private RACE AGAINST TIME ╱ SHENANIGANS

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

"Badgers're rare enough in our territory," he's saying as the noise of the gorge fades from his ears. Any patrol that led him away from that roar was a pleasant one, as much as he may find some peace in the mental silence that came with proximity, but this one's even more special– maybe 'cause it's not a real patrol at all. Rattling Wasp's pleasant enough company, strange as he is, and even better than that, he's curious enough to let him prattle on. It's good for the soul to talk every now and then. Keeps his mind off the worst of things. The river, their camp, the frosted state of mind that'd faded just a short while ago. Though there's a lingering weakness to his muscles, he's alive and well.

At least well enough to be out here without Beesong or Cicadastar breathing down his throat. He wonders if that's what Wasp is really here for. To keep an eye on him. Make sure he's behaved. The thought's enough to make him chuckle to himself, looking over his shoulder back at the warm-toned tom. It doesn't mean all that much, and he casts it aside with a flick of his tail. Back to the topic at hand, then. "If you're lucky, there'll never be a reason for you to even know this, but– better know and be prepared, aye? It'll be good to check it, anyway. This sett's long abandoned, but we make sure'f that every now and then. Sometimes other beasts'll try to worm their way in."

Once they're here, he crouches. The scent is still stale, acrid stench nearly swallowed up by dirt and river water. It's in good condition otherwise, he thinks, seemingly solid enough built. "Looks like nothin' more than a hole in the ground, you'd think. But it goes further in than you'd expect."

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: @RATTLING WASP.
• ──── houndsnarl. trans male, he/him pronouns.
  ──── approximately 30 moons old, or 2.5 years.
  ──── bisexual with firm male preference; single.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.
• "speech"

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[WASPRATTLE.]

Experienced soul of the River as the other was, Wasp would be a fool to pass up the chance for knowledge. Despite his moons here, he's far from explored every nook and cranny, and even if that had been the case, he would not have declined. However simple the task, it would always hold its own merits. Look a little closer. Take your time.

The whipping of winds carried on, backdrop to the rumble of Hound's words. There was something to be said with every reed or weeping willow. Near-effortlessly, he fills the space that Wasp would not be able to.

"The hulking beasts, yes?" He thinks himself lucky, to have never seen one. Certainly was, if the tales were of any accuracy. His steps carry him evenly across sunken land, snow-laden. Even if the flood had piled into and flooded their gorge, enraging it to the swelling roar it met the two with today, leaf-bare was not any more merciful on them. His disdain for snow, though, has not quite settled like it has for many others. Pale blankets lain across the land, he could hardly see the shift as deserving of ire. The slight crunch beneath his pads was somehow warming, besides the burn it threatened them with.

With what follows, he nods agreement, oblivious to whether Hound could see it or not. He feels he owes him a sign of attention, nonetheless. And for the time being, it was all his. "The river does well to fend most things off." At the sett's mention, he would tilt his head. Golden-brown curls come along with his tail, flicked in acknowledgement. Far, far from remarkable. The description was apt, a hole in the ground. Though the air was stagnant. Stale with a scent he could barely glean. Again, he hums agreement. As it were, he could sense no beast inside. Though, admittedly, he is curious. "While we're here..." Loss of words; to the chocolate tom, he blinks.

ooc translations

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