that french song from ratatouille ↷ [frog eggs]

[smogstar]

The scene is set.

Newleaf saturates the wetlands, and they burgeon with a bounty of new life; reeds and rushes rise like lush furs along the earth's spine, whilst pools play host to flotillas of lily pads and the frogs spawning on their green backs. Birdsong fills the air, sweet as rainwater on parched tongues. Those bitter memories that recall a long and toilsome Leaf-bare fade with the frost underfoot. The world is new once more.

Despite ShadowClan's dare-said positive trajectory, in Smogmaw's mind festers a compunction, corrosive as bile, eating away at his capacity to fully enjoy these good fortunes. Frog eggs. He, remarkably, hasn't been able to lay claim to so much as a single morsel. Either something (or someone) else sought to snack on them first, or the frogs' spawn were so swift in their growth that all had matured into tadpoles by now.

Aside from his esteemed position in the clan hierarchy, a lovely brood he is blessed to call his own, and a future more secure than ever, Smogmaw truly does not have much. Simple pleasures like frog eggs come as a rare consolation, and thus far, they have eluded him entirely.

Dawn patrol, as a matter of routine, commences, but today is anything but ordinary. A nagging sensation compels Smogmaw to lead it to where the pools run thick and fertile. He is steadfast in his resolve, silent whilst conversation carries overhead, amber eyes darting vigilantly. Wistfully. His hunger drives him forth, his mind fogs, and a part of him registers that perhaps he ought to let this quest go. No sooner does this thought occur does he spy, nestled among the water grasses, a waxy cluster of speckled eggs, all waiting to be consumed.

It is now or never, for they will not linger long.

"Dibs!" The abrupt cry spills into the air, and by the time his patrolmates' eyes turn on him, Smogmaw's mouth is clasped over the clutch, slorping its contents greedily, noisily. ​

 

[Magpiepaw]

—————————————————————⊰♰⊱————————————————————

He had tagged along on this patrol to fetch more cobweb, their clanmates penchant for bumping into sharp obstructions was a testament to their need for medicine cats at all; he had been told in the days of the colonies that cats had little option for healing as they did now and they would simply die as a result of such wounds left to openly weep and fester. It is a wonder so many of them survived to form clans at all. It was a wonder yet the clans were not as broad as they should be, newness of them aside from simple a few years, but he would chalk it up to undesirable pairings and a refusal to allow others within their fold. He preferred it anyways, less kits and less strangers, but it did leave them with less numbers. Not that ShadowClan's herb stock would be thankful for it, but given how often they suffered at the claws of predator and opposing clan alike...well, it wouldn't hurt.
His blue gaze darts briefly to their patrol leader pulling away from the group, mouth parted in joyous delight and Magpiepaw grimaces as he sees what has caught Smogmaw's eye.

"This again." He remembers the last time he bore witness to this heinous crime, then he had condemned it for a vicious assualt upon the cycle of order, a break in the food chain, a crime of ruthlessness upon the earth itself. Now it was just eating something odd, still gross but he would not regard Smogmaw with the same disdain he once had as a young apprentice horrified at the sight of it all. Now he just accepted that he would have to hear this gushing of fluids and chomping of sloppy sludge as another sign of newleaf. It was not as pleasant as the birds returning nor the warmth and plants spreading throughout the territory but in its own way it was something to be welcomed. Disgusting as it was. He knew. He'd tried it briefly in youthful curiousity but the texture had been appalling, an affront to his senses.
"Could you be less loud about it."

——— ⸸ I'm the kid in the rain. Celebrate the insane ———— ⸸ Yeah, never goes my way

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Magpiepaw
  —⊰⋅ MCA of ShadowClan
  —⊰⋅ He/They
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/a white throat and blue-violet eyes.
  —⊰⋅ Has mild cerebellar hypoplasia (Wobbly cat syndrome)
  
  

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[hitch]

Small impressions of furless toes litter the damp soil. Spindly and broad despite their slighter size, the unique, dragging trail of prints through mud is unmistakably a frog's path. He follows it with his crimson stare, squinting just a tad, and his pursuit of the frog's ranging leap is entirely instinctive; his mind is a silent, narrowed landscape without room for deviation, but as his single-minded prowling draws to a close, the frog's earthy scent heavy in his nose, "Dibs!" He flinches and crouches lower simultaneously, sharply-pointed ears pinned back harshly, and in his chest must be the frog he chased, kicking at his ribs.

Beyond the adjacent foliage, he creeps until he spies the pair of ShadowClanners. Sucking at the roots of reedy grass, the warrior noisily devours a discovered bounty of frog eggs. Revulsion strikes him long before Smogmaw's name does, though the same cannot be said for the black and white cat, even as they share a reaction to Smogmaw's overzealous feasting.

"I'm definitely not fighting you for them," he huffs. "Might as well slow down before it all comes right back up and the rest of us lose what we've eaten."
​

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[THORNPAW]

Having been roused from a rather cozy nap the paw' was rounded up for a patrol. The usual humdrum of clan life propelled her forward and the Barbary molly felt awfully grumpy today. Usually, she was pretty mindful of her mood but the blonde lass had been enjoying her dreams. Flashes of white fur and snarky laughter that made her chest twirl with glee had painted an awfully beautiful tapestry. Bright light had shimmered through dark tree lines and the bugs went wild with song. In a way the surrounding wildlife mimicked her earlier dreamscape but Thornpaw's stony mug hardly expressed a lick of delight. Tiredly she trudged behind @Bonerattle unaware of her father's hunt.

The she-cat's own mind was honed in on trembling grasses and just as she went to crouch the deputy's cry and consequent dining made a chill run up her spine. What is that noise!? Whipping around her bi-colored gaze thinned into repulsion as Smogmaw slurped up the spawn. Their cool demeanor breaks visibly as she exclaims "EUGH! Dad, that's gross!" Stepping back Thornpaw's ears flatten with embarrassment at her own outburst. Still she can't take her gaze away from the unsightly meal. Nose crinkled and maw twisted up into a grimace.​

 

[Laurelgrin]

Truthfully his mind had been wandering far and wide. Newleaf was a new experience for the apprentice and in the marsh it didn't seem all that fun. See instead of being cold now it was just wet and chilly, plants were coming in a little he supposed but mostly he just found grooming to be more difficult. So, as a way to console himself he began to picture how the other clans might be experiencing the once lost sun.

Their neighbors in ThunderClan probably weren't nearly as damp, and maybe they were already bathing in the warmth on Sunningrocks, birds were probably singing and baby animals leaving burrows for the first time were probably filling their stomachs. Skyclan was most likely similar, finding bird's nests with eggs still in them probably was quite the treat.

RiverClan had their namesake back, ice thawing and gentle burbling of the streams that surrounded them probably put them in fine moods. Living it up with fish and probably decorating their fur with the early sprouting vegetations. He was pretty sure it was them that came smeared in colour and such to gatherings? That's what he had heard at least.

And lastly his mind went to the moors as it, regrettably, often did. He could remember the smell of Leaf-fall when he had been in the moors, a little bit of decay and chill but freeing nonetheless. He had to admit that the air among the marsh was even just barely more fresh than when the snow trapped everything, so the idea of applying the same freshness to what was once decay fully raptured his attention. He was practically daydreaming now, picturing cool fresh air tussling his fur and filling his lungs, the clouds parting in the WindClan camp illuminating himself in ... in what? Freedom, perhaps?

Then his father's sharp shout broke his illusions. There he stood hungrily crouched over a puddle, declaring that whatever was in it was his. Now the concept of eating eggs didn't seem odd in its self, but he had always considered bird eggs. As his father snobbishly indulged, Laurelpaw's maw twisted in distaste. Frog was already an acquired taste, or more so texture, that he missed the train for. So, seeing the little beads pop and spew in between gnashing jaws almost completely turned him off the prey for good, egg or adult. Oh how he envied Wolfsong's kits, probably eating young hare and other burrowing creatures. His amber eyes averted not knowing how much longer he could keep the frog, he now regrettably, ate for breakfast down.

"speech"
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[Snowlark.]

[ ༻❄༺ ] A yawn snapped from Snowpaw's maw as she trudged close with her friends, mud seeping between her paws staining her white fur which she paid no mind to. The snow had gone now leaving a muddy land in its awake. Birds chirpped in the glow of the early morning singing their songs of praise to the return of new leaf. Of course like Thornpaw and Laurelpaw, this was her first time expericing the warmer weather instead of the grip of ice and snow that leaf-bare had brought leaving prey scarce and warmth had been found bundling close to nestmates.

Yellow gaze flicked towards @Scorchedmoon to see if their own mentor was also tired from being put onto the dawn patrol. And yet, today would seem to have some form of... interest. Smogmaw had spotted something and once it had come to view Snowpaw's maw wrinkled a bit as she slipped to stand near Thornpaw before gaze flicked down to the weird tiny orbs that had spawn its way into the marsh's land while the sounds of frogs ribbiting in the distance made it clear what this had been.

"Do they... even taste good?" she questioned. Surely not, after all they didn't look appetizing and by how unamused Rosemire and Magpiepaw were to how grossed out Thornpaw and Laurelpaw have been. Perhaps it was just an aquire taste or Smogmaw found humour in thinking enjoyment from creatures who had yet grew their legs. Surely these frog's parents would be sorely disappointed to fjnd their hard work had been eaten by cats.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── You ve wasted your life , but thanks for applying ──┐‎

• 
  "speak""Thoughts"
  
• 
  Snowpaw ❄ She/Her, apprentice of Shadowclan, 7 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.
  

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[ASHENFALL]

˚₊‧ ⛧ "... Yeesh... Ashenpaw mutters from his place in the audience, watching Smogmaw gorge himself on the frogspawn as if doing so would grant him nine lives like the stars did.

'Starclan forgive me for my offense...' His inside voice murmured an apology at the watchers above. Seemed heretical to equate Starclan's power to that of a slimy prey-thing.

Seeing the brooding and often righteous (in Ashenpaw's mind) tom degrade to a creature so ... base at the sight of food was ... interesting to watch. Odd hues narrowed as his child-siblings and the other patrollers expressed their distaste.

"Well, obviously he thinks so, snail-sniffles..." Ashenpaw rolls his eyes at Snowpaw's pedantic questioning. The children and their shrieking were getting on his nerves. He himself battled internally to figure out whether he was more disgusted or curious at the sight of the swamp-delicacy. One eventually won the war, and Ashenpaw stepped closer, nosing around the mud and reeds, "Wait, can I try some..?"

YOULL ASK WHAT CAN I DO? ⭒☽⛧☾⭒ AND THERE WILL BE NO ANSWER

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — ashenkit . ashenpaw
  — ftm transmasc. he/him. 12mo apprentice of shadowclan. mentored by smogmaw
  — muted blue torbie w/ pale blue and amber eyes
  — smells of rainsoaked fern and swamp milkweed
  — all ic opinions!
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — pfp by meg sig by nya, fullbody by antiigone, sticker by saturnid
  — penned by eezy
  

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