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[VULTUREPAW]

It had gotten colder, there was stuff on the ground that he did not understand. Whatever it was it was even colder and he didn't like stepping in it. But no matter which way he went it was there. Always, soaking his paws and making him tremble from how cold it was. Blazestar had made him an apprentice and said his name was no longer Vulturekit but with a paw now. All of this stuff is so hard to wrap his mind around but at least he is trying. He can't even seem to remember who his mentor is. He feels bad about that but this days mission is different. He has been hearing others talking about how badly they need food. That it's been getting colder and prey has been lesser. So he thinks, no he believes he can help. He hasn't really ever caught anything but maybe this is his chance. With a soft grunt he makes his way out of the nursery (because he hasn't really thought or even known he is supposed to change dens) and makes his way towards where he always has heard cats coming and going. The territory is large so he thinks to just make his way a little further out. Stepping with hesitance the farther he goes.

But once he is a meager way from camp he starts digging in the wet stuff. Throwing it behind him and sniffling against it every now and then. His main goal is to find something. Some bugs would be nice. Maybe those wiggling onces. Those are nice. His small paws fling and push at the snow till je gets to the hard and frozen ground. Trying to dig through that is challenging so he starts using his teeth to tear up the earth and scoop it away resulting in him having a muddy mouth.​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Out, again- he could not help it, the call of the snowstorm. There was something about the sky, when the fall grew heavier and veiled the world in its frigid mist, that he loved. And why he loved it he could not say; there had been no positive experience intrinsically linked to the presence of snow, no important event in his life that had been blanketed in white. He just... liked it, and could not explain why. The temperature not so much- it came with incessant anxiety over freezing to death, dropping to the floor and shattering into bits- but the snow itself and how it gleamed in the pale sunlight... it was beautiful, really. Maybe it was not so silly to simply find enjoyment in beauty.

As much as he enjoyed looking at snow, Twitchpaw did not like it as much when it came flying at his face- an infuriatingly common occurrence recently, apparently. It was- unrelenting, the barrage of it- one minute he'd just been walking, and along came this scrabbling, scratching- burrowing! Like something was getting ready to burst from the frosted ground, seize him- pull him under, never to be seen again. Oh, and who would know where to look? He sputtered in the face of it, spat, scrabbled backward- until suddenly it halted, and frazzled eyes created wider to take in the culprit.

Crouched, drumming against the frozen dirt- tearing at it as if devouring a meal- Vulturepaw. "PFF- what are you- doing?" Unsteady tone tumbled from his maw, jaw clamping shut.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[VULTUREPAW]

Tossing dirt back he doesn't really pay much attention to his own surroundings. His eyes half open as he snuffles at the ground, attempting to figure out if there is anything in the ground at all that he can take back to the camp. For others to eat and have a full stomach. His small stature almost disappears in the snow but soon he hears a sputtering behind him. Poking his head up out of the snow, he lifts a paw to rub at his own muzzle as he tries to get rid of some of the dirt that has collected. It doesn't taste bad actually and it's kinda crunch. His ears angle towards the voice and he looks for a name to fit with it. "Twitch..?" With a twitch of his small nose he then scuttles out of his hole, those pale green eyes focused on where he thinks the other is.

With a waving of a paw he smiles a little. "I'm hunting. I'm trying to find food to help. We don't have much so I thought I'd try." He has never tried to sniff out anything larger than a bettle and worms before. So that is his best bet right now. At least he thinks so as he lowers his eyes. He doesn't have many friends here and so he timidly shuffles his paws. "Um...w-wanna help? Or, or I can help you with something."​

 

[SLATE]

The large figure's shadow, once an indication of impending doom, grows as he approaches the pair of apprentices. However, Slate was now staying in clan territory, which meant that no blood would be drawn by his claws without reason. He would have once scared off two youths like them for hunting on his turf, but now he had to work with these... children for food. It was quite an adjustment for Slate.

A neutral expression rests on the male's features, though he slightly cocks a brow at Vulturepaw's "method" of hunting. It was reminiscent of how fellow strays would dig around in the scrapcans for remains of twoleg food; although sometimes one would get lucky and find a chicken leg, the probability of finding something to properly fill one's belly was next to none. "Looks more like scavenging than hunting to me." The tom had not yet noticed the cloudiness of Vulturepaw's eyes, which might explain why the youth relied more on sniffing around rather than visually seeking.

Perhaps the prey sensed that there were predators nearby and sought out a peaceful space to scurry and find their own food. So, Slate inquired, "Does your clan have a hunting ground? Somewhere where prey is more abundant?" They would be much better off seeking prey like birds and mice at a proper hunting spot, surely.

​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —

• 
  
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  ✰ SLATE
  —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
  —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
  —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
  
  quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.
• 
  

​

 

[VIOLETNOSE]

violetpaw does not like the snow. some say that it's beautiful to wake up to a forest blanketed in snow, icicles hanging from the branches and flurries floating through the air. they describe this beauty to her, every so often, and she finds it to be meaningless. she could not appreciate its beauty; all she knows is that it is cold. it numbs her paws and freezes the tip of her nose, and she does not like it. violetpaw couldn't wait until the warmth of newleaf melts away all of the frigid snow! (that's when the adults say it'll happen, anyways. secretly, violetpaw hopes it happens even sooner than that.)

she's out on a hunting patrol, following the trail of a mouse, when the loud spluttering of another steals her attention. violetpaw's ears twitch, and she parts with the trail she'd been following to embark on a new journey; checking out the source of the noise. not like she'd be catching anything now, with all of this chattering going on.

her ears guide her to the trio; twitchpaw's scent, she recognizes with ease. he's been an apprentice ever since she first earned the paw at the end of her own name, and he's one of her sister's best friends. vulturepaw's a new face in the apprentice's den, however, and it takes the audial cue of his timid voice combined with his scent for it to click.

the last one, on the other paw... his scent is discernible, but only because it's still tainted with that of an outsider's with only a tinge of pines. indicative of his short time spent in skyclan, it hasn't changed to match that of skyclan's yet. violetpaw has no idea what his name is, though. he's commenting on vulturepaw's 'hunting' technique, comparing it more to scavenging than actual hunting... whatever that means. (she didn't find the trio quick enough to hear the scrabbling of claws against the earth.) and vulturepaw's asking someone if they want to help, with hunting, violetpaw assumes based on the flow of the conversation. "i can!" the she-cat butts in with an eager grin; hunting is something that she's good at. while she couldn't scale the trees in pursuit of squirrels, or leap after birds taking flight, she could track even a day's old trail with little difficulty!

the new guy asks if skyclan has a hunting ground, and violetpaw turns her head in the direction of his voice. "the rockpile usually has tons of mice, but with this snow-" she kicks at the cold powder she stands upon, face falling into a scowl. "-we haven't been able to find much, even there." voles seem to make up the majority of the prey pile, nowadays. but even so, hunger gnaws at her belly most nights.

scrunching her nose up at the somber mood befalling them, violetpaw lifts the corners of her mouth into another grin. "we might have to resort to eating each other, before long!" she jests, sticking her tongue out innocently as if unaware to how macabre the joke it.​