camp SHATTER ME [nebulous prompt]

PROMPT: Someone's brought home a particular piece of prey - it's frozen in a chunk of ice. How do they get it out?


𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 The river freezes in some places, while in others the ice is thin enough to crack just by breaching the water's surface. In some bends of the river, there is no ice at all; those spots are prime fishing territory, if anyone is willing to brave the cold. Crabpaw, of course, doesn't fish in the way that most RiverClanners do, although he's tried after the last battle he'd joined in on. It's no longer the killing things part that he can't get past, just the blood. Blood is no longer a sickening thing, either; he merely hates the cleanup required after administering a killing bite. He considers diving into the river as he normally would to hunt, but the second his pale toes brush against the ice-cold water, he flinches back. A chill runs through his entire body, nose to tail—nope, not happening. It's too cold to risk hunting in the water. Frostbite is the last thing he needs right now.

He doesn't want to stoop to the level of a drypaw, desperately hunting through sparse frosted brush in search of an easy meal on land; but when push comes to shove, Crabpaw is willing to toss his pride aside in favor of seeking food. His stomach rumbles, and he sets his nose to the air and begins searching for a scent. The faintest whiff of mouse clings to his nose, and finally the apprentice is able to track it down to a clump of snow nearby. A sweep of an orange paw shifts aside the pile to reveal something—a mouse, curled into a ball against the ground.

When Crabpaw returns to camp, his head is held high and there's some bright energy returned to his step. But between his teeth, instead of prey there is clutched a chunk of jagged ice. How it ended up frozen, he isn't sure, but the ice that encases it seems impenetrable. "Damn," he grumbles his dismay when the mouse can't be easily pried from its icy casket. He holds it firmly between his paws, claws dug in to keep the slippery thing in place, and gnaws at one corner of the ice chunk. When his tooth scrapes across a ridge in the ice and sends pain shooting through one of his canines, the tom finally lifts his head and glances around the camp. "Can anybody get this thing out?" He wouldn't normally bother, but he's so hungry…

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  • CRABPAW 𓆝 he/him, apprentice of riverclan
    𓆟 ginger and cream tabby with rippling white spotting and mossy green eyes. closed-off and unnaturally quiet.
    𓆟 mentored by cicadaflight
    𓆟 son of iciclefang & stormywing ; brother to cragpaw & pinepaw
    𓆟 peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    𓆟 penned by foxlore
 

Cragpaw is just about to give up on his halfhearted attempts to groom his unruly pelt when he spots his brother trudging into camp, head held high, something glinting between his jaws. At first, the apprentice thinks it's some kind of odd-shaped stone, but then he catches the faintest whiff of mouse beneath the scent of frozen water. His ears perk up, eyes widening with intrigue as he watches Crabpaw settle down and start struggling with the ice-encased prey.

He hops to his paws immediately and trots over with a tilted head. "Did you seriously catch a mouse-sicle?" He asks, voice colored with amusement. Sitting down across from the ginger tom, he watches with barely concealed laughter as his littermate gnaws at the ice, only to wince in pain when his tooth scrapes too hard. "Y'know, you could just…wait for it to thaw." But even as he says it, Cragpaw knows waiting probably isn't an option. Hunger claws at his own belly, and if he were in Crabpaw's place, he wouldn't have the patience either. With a defeated sigh, he leans forward and prods curiously at the frozen chunk with a paw. "Maybe if we drop it on a rock from high up, it'll crack? Unless you wanna keep biting it and risk losing a tooth." His whiskers twitch as he smirks, already mentally preparing for how ridiculous this is about to get.
 

Robinheart steals a moment of relaxation in a wayward patch of sunlight, her eyes half lidded and plush tail draping over her crooked hind leg as if to protect it against the chill in the air. Leafbare is an enemy to joints and bones — she remembers hearing the elders warn her time and time again as a kit and young apprentice… and now she knows it to be truth.

The voices of two brothers, nearly full grown and ready to become warriors, distract her from her break. Crabpaw nearly makes himself a resident of the medicine den by gnawing on ice while Cragpaw is cracking jokes. It's endearing to see. Robinheart hopes her children will remain this close and playful with each other even as they approach warriorhood.

"Bring it here, into the sunshine," the tortoiseshell suggests as she lifts her head from her forepaws and angles it towards a patch of sunlight. "It'll thaw faster in direct sunlight. And maybe… drip some water around the mouse to expedite the ice melting where you need it to melt." Hopefully those might work… should dropping it or gnawing on it get vetoed or proven wrong.
[ penned by kerms ]
 

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Dipperfrost observes the commotion with her usual unreadable expression, though a flicker of amusement dances in her half-lidded gaze as the two speckled brothers debate how to free Crabpaw's catch from its icy prison. Cragpaw proposes smashing it with a rock, while Robinheart suggests letting it thaw beneath the afternoon sun. Both have their merits, though she personally lacks the patience for the latter. Won't dripping water on it just freeze it more, anyway?

"You could drop it in the shallows, let the current do the work for you…" she muses, flicking her tail idly. "Mmm, but then you'd have to fish it back out." And that, she imagines, would be an unpleasant ordeal. She glances between the two apprentices, her tone as cool as ever but tinged with dry amusement. "Cragpaw's idea has promise—so long as you don't both end up in the medicine cat's den with Robinheart in the process."

Her whiskers twitch slightly as she watches them, a quiet curiosity settling in. Would they take the cautious route or the reckless one? Dipperfrost already has her guess. Young toms always seem to favor the more dramatic solution, and she wouldn't be surprised if, within moments, she was watching them scramble after their meal when their plan inevitably backfired.
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    DIPPERFROST RIVERCLAN WARRIOR; SHE / HER ; SWANTUFT X FINLEAP
    Dipperfrost is a tall, slender she-cat with a white coat broken by blue tabby patches, a tuft of curls atop her head, and a star-shaped marking on her forehead. Her brilliant blue eyes—one flecked with a yellow starburst—are often half-lidded, lending her a distant, unreadable expression. Quiet and observant, she speaks with purpose, choosing honesty over comfort and control over chaos. Her aloof demeanor and measured composure make her difficult to approach, but for those who earn her trust, she is fiercely loyal. Though cynical and pragmatic, she remains a steady, unshaken presence, ever watchful of the world around her.
    Difficult in battle + a skilled fighter
 
tigersplash knew they were desperate, but really -- was there any point to prey that was more ice than meat? (she knows the answer to that is yes -- the pain bite of cold and hunger had started to merge into one for her, and she knew her clanmates would be no different). "must've taken some legwork to catch that," the she-cat joked as she trotted over, but her tone is light and humorous in a way that's difficult to take offense to. she listens to the other's suggestions, nodding amicably at the words, though her ear twitches at the thought of dropping a solid yet fragile shard in the middle of camp -- it seems like a disaster waiting to happen.

"you might take someone's eye out if you drop it and it goes flying," she points out. there's still humor in her voice, but it's overshadowed by a tinge of seriousness, brought out by the warrior's protective nature over her clan. "what if you just bash it somewhere without dropping it -- it'll do the same thing with a little more work, a little less...potential for injury," she suggests.

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  • TIGERSPLASH (she/her/any) is a 26 moon old riverclan warrior with longhair chocolate/cinnamon fur with high white and amber eyes. she is the gen1 daughter of redfur and dawnflower.

    TAGS. penned by riyue. dm me on discord (xriyue) for plots.

 
✦•··········•✦•··········•✦ Sounds like they're all just throwing out anything that might stick— dropping it, leaving it in the sun, tossing it into the river, beating the absolute tar out of it against a rock. The question is, will the mouse even be palatable after all of...that? The corner of his mouth twitches. Even though he hadn't originally watched Crabpaw and the slowly growing assortment of clanmates for entertainment purposes, it's certainly shaping up to be that way (and he does consider the possibility that this is an elaborate attempt to throw him off any potential scents of malicious scheming).

"I think that still runs the risk of flying ice," he says on the tail-end of Tigersplash's suggestion. He pads over at a slow trot to eye the icy mouse closer, then chuffs. "Maybe we could just sit on it. What better way to warm up than being smothered under someone's furry backside?"
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loveburn (formerly lovepaw and starlightpaw) — currently eighteen moons old
son of cicadastar & smokestar — brother to cicadaflight & beefang — he / him
single & not really looking — peaceful/nonviolent actions may be powerplayed
please note that loveburn has persecutory delusions & sometimes personal prose
will make patently untrue assumptions and mischaracterizations of other people.
 
it's a strange thing, what crabpaw has found. he struts into camp with a block of ice protruding the corners of his copper mouth and shellpool pauses in her place, blinking at him in abject bewilderment. the tom drops and begins to gnaw at it, shellpool redirects her step toward him with her head low, nose flaring to try and discern a scent through the cluster. his brother approaches with a bright did you really catch a mouse - cicle? her maw twitches a little, cutting rosy eyes towards him with an amused glimmer, " catch is a strong word . . " she purrs, rickety as ever, lifting a paw to pap at the slick, teeth - dented ice when crabpaw lifts away from it. it doesn't budge.

others offer suggestions, robinheart instructing them to rest the chunk in the sun and dipperfrost suggesting the shallow rapids. shellpool clicks her tongue thoughtfully ; cragpaw's idea was alright, but tigersplash was correct . . depending on how it broke, it's sharp edges could shatter skyward. besides . . was it even worth the effort? is there any way the mouse's flesh was still salvageable when the ice thawed? loveburn approaches, chuffs about sitting on it, and that startles a raspy laugh from her — squinting hazy eyes as she leans, bumps her velveteen head against his narrow shoulder, " it still needs to be — be edible. if it even is now . . " it would be crowfood by the time this ice melted.

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  • SHELLPOOL . 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓆝 ࿐ SHE / HER, 14☽s OLD. WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN ; HAZECLOUD xx LICHENSTAR. SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS ---------------- ° ❀ ⋆
    frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.
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    she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush enough to conceal the juts of malnutrition beneath. tufted eiderdown fur conceals a body worn thin by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with stubborn baby fat in others. her face is delicately constructed as the rest of her ; heart - shaped, fragile, tendered with warmly shadowed eyes. beneath the languor of lapis - veined lids, her gaze brims a rheumy, rosen tinge — ruddy like a pulsing bruise, curtained with heavy lashes that keep her serenely half - lidded.
    LIVING WITH LONGTERM ILLNESS ; always exhibiting the symptoms of a lingering cold, most notably a runny nose and eyes. not contagious unless specified otherwise.