- Jul 1, 2024
- 47
- 6
- 8
From the tunnel leading into camp emerges Cricketcry, an unusual expression on his often somber face. Sprinkled through his tri-toned fur is dirt and other sediment, fresh stains coat his paws. Cricketcry returns to camp from his first trip into the tunnels since the shallow dog bite on his rear. Shockingly, the pain didn’t last long after the initial bite. He presumes nothing which will be inflicted upon him could hurt as much as a leg snapping. The fur is only beginning to sprout back, the dog removed plenty of skin but more fur, it left his striped and fawn fur in tatters and spots of baldness. He doesn’t care much though, truthfully- looks do not matter as much to him as other things. He felt suffocated from the days he spent above, being surface side for more than a few hours stifles him more than the humid crawlspaces. Two moons, of being unable to be beneath the surface, he surely would not be able to handle it as Bluefrost has.
He pads through camp, heads directly towards the fresh kill pile which he delivers a lizard to. It practically fell from the ceiling of a tunnel into his jaws- he took it as a message the tunnels miss him when he’s gone as much as he misses them. To contribute once again to the clan, that’s what warms his stormy face. it’s very clearly a different look on him. in truth, his maw is still curved downwards in a frown (unfortunately, this will be a permanent fixture) but it does not look so unapproachable and dire, and his eyes glitter. Cricketcry wanders to a nice patch of sunlight and settles down, brushing his plumed tail around his filthy forepaws. Hopefully none fell sick when him and the patrol were out, none escorted to the badger sett. Curiously, Cricketcry rasps to the warrior passing by, “How goes-s-s it?” Anxiety surges, paws to ears but with a gulp and a reassuring nod to himself he continues, “I’ve f-f…found a nice sss…spot here, if you’d like to join.”
He pads through camp, heads directly towards the fresh kill pile which he delivers a lizard to. It practically fell from the ceiling of a tunnel into his jaws- he took it as a message the tunnels miss him when he’s gone as much as he misses them. To contribute once again to the clan, that’s what warms his stormy face. it’s very clearly a different look on him. in truth, his maw is still curved downwards in a frown (unfortunately, this will be a permanent fixture) but it does not look so unapproachable and dire, and his eyes glitter. Cricketcry wanders to a nice patch of sunlight and settles down, brushing his plumed tail around his filthy forepaws. Hopefully none fell sick when him and the patrol were out, none escorted to the badger sett. Curiously, Cricketcry rasps to the warrior passing by, “How goes-s-s it?” Anxiety surges, paws to ears but with a gulp and a reassuring nod to himself he continues, “I’ve f-f…found a nice sss…spot here, if you’d like to join.”
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OOC—
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CRICKETCRY —— Tunneler of Windclan 𓆧
𓆧 he/him / 28 ☾