- Mar 11, 2024
- 103
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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…
- ooc: —
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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