tunnels rot, decomposition, dust ... — tunnel debris

[cygnetstare]

A gawky frame moves silently through the comforting blackness and oily dirt-scent of the tunnels, pale head tilted up in the gloom to scent; wind whips Cygnetstare's muzzle and she pauses. That age-old tunnel lesson of windy underground pits crosses her thoughts, and so she approaches the situation mindfully: the chimera consults a mental map, pricks her oversized ears to listen. The sound of an apprentice squalling comes to her on the wind with the hot dusty smell of prairie-grass, and so they move forward confidently; an entrance must be near.

That is, until a bar slams into Cygnetstare's chest, temporarily knocking the wind out of her; they pause silently, thinking they must have misjudged and that was the clang of death's claws on her ribs. Not so; a quick touch-inspection reveals it's merely a piece of debris, a branch inconveniently wedged in between two earthen walls. It's not a huge branch but compared to the tunneler's wasted frame, lean muscle only half-gracing it, it proves to be more of an effort than she initially judges it for. Mismatched paws press in the quiet dark against the wreckage of nature; it must have been swept in here by the high-leaping gusts of late, but it doesn't seem to want to yield more than a paw-length despite her efforts.

The pale tunneler's gut-painted eyes narrow; she can see a glimmer of diluted cloud-light ahead, smell the redolent warm scents of the moor rolling across her nose, feel the slight crackle of windswept grass fragments beneath her paws. Cygnetstare braces a small, skinny frame against the packed dirt walls and pushes on the small branch to little success; its two ends have, by some unfortunate dealing of fate, wedged themselves quite stubbornly in the walls down in the luckless dark. She glances back at the little group of tunnelers; how it even fit into the usually-comforting damp, much less got this far in, is beyond her; the wind's had a mind of its own lately.
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[Voidwhisker]

"Well, that's unfortunate." Voidwhisker says, a short distance behind Cygnetstare.

The wind was a force to be reckoned with lately, and all sorts of debris got swept into the tunnels and dragged along by its inhabitants. He wasn't sure how a branch got in here, but it was simply not allowed to be here any longer. He watches his fellow tunneler try to push it, but it doesn't budge.

It's really stuck in there.... What a pain.

"If we can't move it, we'll have to chew through it like termites~" He jokes.

He jokes.... But he'll do it.​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw hadn't thought that there'd be so much of a breeze underground - in fact, she figures that the tunnels would be the safest place to hide from the storm brewing up above! It seems that she is, in fact, wrong, and that the world is keen on proving such. Her tail twitches as their little group comes to a slow halt, Voidwhisker saying something about having to chew through 'it,' whatever 'it' is. The apprentice peers around him, eyebrows furrowed as she spies a perfectly lodged stick in the way.

She thinks briefly of the tunnel collapse that happened weeks ago, that she hadn't been a part of but heard through word of mouth. Of how they lost someone to the weakened walls. For once, a spot of fear does bloom in her chest, and she flicks an ear, "Maybe I can squeeze around it?" she's still aptly small for her age, though fastly approaching her full height with every sunrise. "I can pull from the other side, while you guys push...?" it's her only idea, unfortunately.​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

SOOTSTAR ♀​

Sootstar lets out a hefty sigh as she fixates her gaze upon the issue occurring up ahead. The tunnel was practically inaccessible now, this would have to be promptly fixed or efficiency would decrease tremendously, considering this was one of their main paths. ”Good idea,” she nods to Cottonpaw encouragingly. Her eyes then flicker to the warriors, ”Think we can break off some of the weaker branches? We could use those to reinforce the walls up ahead, and make it easier to remove the bulk of the branch.” At least there could be some resources to gain out of this headache.

 

[✧ Marmotbite.]

CAUTION TAPE AROUND MY HEART
marmotpaw | 06 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally medium | attack in bold #9ab973

---

Marmotpaw follows along in silence, a frown tugging on her features both at the close proximity of so many cats and the fact it seems they are now trapped by stray branch. The pale furred feline watches as the patrol talks amongst themselves, tail twitching. sootstar and her kits idea has merit, and she perks up at the words. "I c'n try too," she murmurs, small frame slipping under and around the others to sink sharp teeth into a branch and tug. The sight is not dissimilar to a chihuahua trying to play tug-of-war with a tree, but it seems to work for a sharp snap rings out and she pulls away with a decently sized stick clutched in her jaws. Once it's free'd she finds she's not actually sure what to do with it - mismatched gaze blinking in confusion.

// rolled a 17 on success
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[AMBERTAIL]

They know immediately that they are no help in this situation. His own training of Whitepaw had taken him to this section of the tunnels, one that is typically easily passed through and well-fortified. Instead there are a mix of voices that echo and resonate. Combining. A branch? He hears Sootstar's voice, It is narrow enough that he cannot squeeze closer to touch what they speak of, to make any sense of what is here. Tersely, panic and helplessness building to a crescendo within him, Ambertail turns his gaze upon his own apprentice. "Do you see enough?" they ask, "Do you know where you would go?" She is small. Around Cottonpaw's size he would assume. Others have described them both to Ambertail, and he has found it amusing that Whitepaw seems more cotton-like than Cottonpaw. Now is not the time. "Join her, if you can."

˗ˏˋ〚  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〛´ˎ˗

• ooc: @whitepaw
• ──── ambertail. tunneler of windclan. nb, he or they.
  ──── adult, though precise age unlabeled as of now.
  ──── sexuality unknown. a strange windclan cryptid.
  
  ──── a tiny, yet proportionally long-limbed tortoiseshell with unfocused amber eyes. though they retain their color, ambertail is blind. those who don't know as much may be confused, and will certainly be met with dry responses from the tunneler himself.
• "speech"

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[cygnetstare]

A veritable small army of tunnelers assembles, no doubt various patrols that were planning to use this usually clear and easy exit, just as Cygnetstare's had been counting on. The scrawny warrior squishes themself as compactly as they can into the tunnel's side to make space for the growing crowd: clearly this branch needs to be dealt with immediately if it's caused this kind of tunnel traffic in the span of a few moments. Voidwhisker and Cottonpaw are close on her wastrel heels, and the warrior nods an assent at the apprentice's idea before recalling how dark it is here, even near the entrances and adding, "Ayuh. Sounds like the best path." And it is; Cottonpaw's clever for thinking of it, and should Cygnetstare ever receive an apprentice herself, she hopes they'll be equally intelligent.

Sootstar herself arrives—despite living under the green-eyed cat's leadership much of her life, she still holds a sort of mysticism to the warrior; her very presence makes Cygnetstare feel guilty somehow, like a kit caught sneaking out of camp. She shakes her head to disabuse herself of the notion, though the feeling lingers like the cloud of smells quickly gathering in the cramped space, and listens to the leader's command. The chimera waits as Marmotpaw frees a good-sized stick from the branch and, as Ambertail speaks to his own apprentice, moves forth herself, wriggling free from her place against the wall.

Mismatched paws, one glowing in the faint gloom of the exit-tunnel, push with surprising force against another stout stick; the thing breaks off with a sharp cracking sound and falls onto the side of the apprentices, Cygnetstarte carefully balancing herself to avoid getting wedged in by the force of the push. She'll back up again, glancing at her companions in the cramped darkness (the barely-visible cloudy light of the entrance that now seems so far away casts only a slight gleam), and wait silently for either further commands or someone else's attempt.
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// ooc: rolled a 15, she successfully breaks off a stick