Sing a song, songbird || o. First catch, 50th post


[ ༻❄༺ ] Cold air nipped at the apprentice's nose, their body partially blending in the snow while the stark contrast of black feathers and beady eyes picked at the ground in search of food. She knew her mentor was not far away. Her crouch was still awkward but it was enough for Snowpaw to go unnoticed by the feathered creature who seemed too busy to be aware it would become food. Ears perked forward while yellow eyes trained on the creature before her. She knew she had to move fast but also move steady enough not to scare away the creature before her. Scorchedmoon had showed her that and albiet the awkwardness in the crouch and it not being perfect, Snowpaw was quite determined to make this her first ever catch, and impress her mentor and perhaps Basilpaw as well as Thornpaw.

Quickly the apprentice lunged at the bird, pouncing at it as it made an attempt to fly away, her claws gripping at the feathered wings while it shrieked out its cries alarming the prey in the area before Snowpaw awkwardly killed the creature. It was not a clean kill, blood dripped into the snow, staining it red while the creature went limp in her jaws and a proud huff came from her before dropping it to the ground, scanning for Scorchedmoon and the others who had been on the patrol as well, a smile on her jaw while pride sparkled in her yellow eyes. She did it, her first catch! She couldn't help but feel the warmth that bloomed in her chest over catching her first prey. "Did you see that Scorchedmoon? I caught it! I caught it!" she called to her mentor with the excitement of a kit.

  • "speak""Thoughts"
  • Snowpaw She/Her, apprentice of Shadowclan, 5 moons.
    Lithe long hair blue lynx sepia with high white, and yellow eyes. Stubby tail, permanent resting bitch face
    Hailfreckle x Mudsplash
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
    see battle info here
    penned by Ryn@/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.


Mentor tag @Scorchedmoon ! No need to wait hehe. 50th post wooo!! ))
 
Scorchedmoon tries to ignore the growing cold as him and his apprentice Snowpaw hunt, watching her attempts. It’s been an interesting experience so far, having an apprentice for himself. He only just became a warrior himself, so teaching has been pretty hard! He’s happy that Snowpaw has been good to him, at least. It’s been just as fun to show her the ropes, and hopefully he’ll grow alongside her!

His already happy expression lightens up further as Snowpaw successfully catches prey. It’s messy, as expected, but it’s still something to celebrate! Birds are an especially hard prey to capture, so for it to be her first makes a sense of pride swell within Scorchedmoon. “You did! You did!” He says excitedly, matching her energy. “I’m so proud of you! Look at you go!”
 


Leaf-bare's grasp bears no mercy for ShadowClan. Prey becomes a precious commodity in its wintry throes, and the standard meal devolves into scraps divided between kits and elders. Starvation claws at warriors' bellies with an unheeded grudge against their pride. Cats grow thin, weak, irritable, and tired—more than is typical or expected. Even the Clan deputy cannot escape its consequences; Smogmaw loses weight at a faster rate, his neck thinned by lack of meals.

Given the hardships, witnessing any successful hunt during this season inspires modest respect from the deputy. A subtle, faint sort, hidden away from public eyes. When it is an apprentice who makes said successful catch, he's more willing to acknowledge the feat. Positive reinforcement, and so forth. When said successful catch also happens to be said apprentice's first successful catch...

"Good show, Snowpaw," he congratulates on approach, "this clan lives another day. Which means you do, too." Immersed in the tom's stodgy praise is an undertone of satisfaction, mingled with surprise. For he knows how Leaf-bare throws challenges before apprentices' development, at risk of diluting their potential. Snowpaw has surpassed those challenges admirably, and it casts a favourable light unto her young mentor. Scorchedmoon stands as the recipient of a distinguished nod, before Smogmaw presses on forwards. Victory has eluded him in his recent hunting pursuits, but stars damn him if he returns to camp outshone by a humble apprentice.

 
Shrikesong has no lost love for leafbare, for a mixture of reasons both conventional and less than. The pervasive hunger, gnawing at the soft meat lining her narrow ribcage, is certainly a part of it—ShadowClan is a hungry place even in the kindest of seasons, and this is certainly not that. If their hunting patrols were even a hair less succesful, she might cast a renewed eye on the dessicated carrion to which she's so frequently drawn. Her Clanmates, already less than personable, draw into themselves more than ever, becoming withered and unsociable. Unfortunate, given Shrikesong is a social creature herself, to the point of excess—on more than one occasion she's fought the impulse to sink her claws into a particularly unpleasant Clanmate.

Sharp joints protrude from mile-long legs, Shrikesong's bizarre proportions only emphasized by her lack of nourishment. A white-glazed eye stares fixedly into space, cracks of grayish flesh splitting her face into living porcelain shards; the other, hungry yellow, devours the sight of blood-marred snow. Snow. The other reason she dislikes the season—a fixed lack of humid bogs, oozing lichens and squirming mud. The air is disappointingly dry and crisp, the ground below her dusted with snow instead of spores and marsh-grass. Nothing moulders; it dries to leathery strips of flesh, quick to bore.

She shakes her head to dislodge the thoughts and steps, long and coltish, towards the three cats congregating around the still-warm bird. Snowpaw's kit-excitement drills into the frosty air; Shrikesong debates between irritation at the shrill, childish cries or pity for the little thing. Mostly, though, a rustwater eye focuses on the prey, wings lolling, set on the ground. Instinct hungers for its bitter flesh, made wastrel and thin by the cold talons of leafbare; impulse desires its shining black feathers or its withered little claws. A white-tipped paw lurches forward, then stills in the mucky ground with no small effort.

"Very nice," she agrees, if a little begrudgingly. Smogmaw is an irritatingly constant presence and far from the most pleasant to converse with. He's had his fair share of tragedy, of course, and Shrikesong collects those like precious jewels—but his rather unfortunate personality outweighs such merits rather consistently. "I've always found birds to be more difficult to catch," she adds after the deputy departs with a rather pretentious nod. Shrikesong's more than happy to make conversation as opposed to resuming their fruitless search for more prey. "All the flailing and wings and talons and such."


"speech"

 
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⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Minkpaw was too excited to be an apprentice. It had been a few days since her ceremony and still the . No longer did she need to sneak out of the nursery, now she could walk around camp all on her own. Better yet, she got to go out of camp. Even with her short fur, she barely felt the cold against the fire in her heart.

Her every step was quick, and crunched loudly on the snow beneath her. She darted around like any moment someone would remember she wasn't supposed to be out here, and would take her back to camp. Minkpaw was a walking hazard to the rest of the patrol, scaring away prey wherever she went. Snowpaw was fortunate she only showed up after the other apprentice had made their catch. Her arrival was announced by a blast of snow as she skidded to a stop.

"Woah..." Minkpaw breathed unthinkingly as she eyed the catch. Snowpaw was barely older than she was and yet she'd managed to catch a bird? A little bit of envy slipped inside her as she watched Scorchedmoon and Smogmaw and Shrikesong all congratulated her. She had yet to catch anything. That would change soon though, she decided, and then Rowanwing and everyone else would heap praise upon her. It would be an even bigger bird too. "Good job..." She offered, though it sounded half-hearted and her eyes never left the prey.
  • MINKKIT cisfemale(?); she/her(?), kit of shadowclan, three moons. tiny, shorthaired silver tabby with high white and fiery orange eyes. FOXFANG X BADGERFUR peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here penned by empyrean@empyrean_heaven on discord, feel free to dm for plots.