- Nov 29, 2023
- 236
- 80
- 28
They all smell the Carrionplace before it really comes into view, past the ever-present foliage of trees. Even the most experienced ShadowClanner has to brace for the stench — and with greenleaf now in full swing, the heat and humidity only adds to it. It acts as the birth place of sickness and disease, but if you know where to look, there's the blessing of prey that no other Clan could ever hope to come near enough to steal.
The silver mesh that separates it from the rest of the territory has plenty of openings to get through; warriors know each one by heart. Mirepurr is small enough to fit through any, but considering Orchidbloom's height, they choose a wider one for their entrance.
"Alright, alright. You've heard Smogmaw: it's time to scavenge. Anything that looks like we can eat, catch it. Just avoid crow-food. We don't want to add onto Starlingheart's to-do list."
Whatever strangeness Mirepurr would feel regarding the position of a patrol leader is lost on them. A hunting patrol is nothing new; it's as natural as the sun's cycle every single day. It's comfortable enough with this specific set of Clanmates, anyway.
Scuffing can be heard from the corners of the Carrionplace when the patrol gets overshadowed by the building's walls. Rats make the most sense in terms of what to fatten the fresh-kill pile with, but they're so much more dangerous than mere mice. "We could all work in pairs. One drives the rats out, the other waits at their exit." Mirepurr presents their idea and looks over the others; compromise is the name of the game.