pafp THE ROCKROSE — CLEAN-UP

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 While his wounds heal, Wolfsong avoids activities that might reopen the clawmarks left on his legs. There is plenty to do around camp that doesn't require him to dash across the moors, and one such chore is particularly important for the safety of the entire clan. They have little coverage from the sun, which may be seen as a closeness to StarClan, but in Wolfsong's opinion, the shadeless meadows face WindClan with difficulties other groups have no worry for. Prey is susceptible to turning foul under the heat, and he's taken it upon himself to recruit a few clanmates for the task of checking for rotten meat.

While Whitepaw is more sensitive to sunlight and it would be kinder to find a different opportunity to speak with her, he thought he might kill two birds with one blow.

He has not asked his apprentice, recalling keenly their expression, the retreating steps taken from Wolfsong. He will grant Sunflowerpaw space when he is not training them, even if he does not feel remorse for the violence.

"Your nose will be a dear ally in this task," he tells Whitepaw as he comes to sit beside the freshkill pile. "If we could safely store our prey below ground, I would argue for it. But for now, we sort. Prey in direct contact with spoiled freshkill will be set aside in a different pile to inspect again later." While they are not as hard-pressed for food as they were in leafbare, it seems best to avoid waste where they can.

//please wait for @whitepaw !
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[whitedawn]

Daylight was never Whitepaw's favorite time of day, it made her eyes squint and water and an itch run down her back. However, she liked Wolfsong, and admired him as the mentor of one of her dear friends. She sat beside the large tom, blinking the water from her eyes as she focused on the fresh-kill pile. Sorting the fresh-kill pile wasn't her favorite chore, but it was a fairly easy one even if the smell was less than ideal. Scrunching up her nose at the thought, she nodded to herself and began to work. The pile of freshkill was truly a mish-mash of various prey, some more prone to spoiling than others. Gently rolling some speckled eggs toward her, she decided to sniff them. They were a recent edition, weren't they? She doesn't think they spoil fast but it has been sunny for a while, and she had no idea how long they've been there. Puffing her cheeks, she rolls them off to the side to check again later. They don't smell rotten, not yet, but it could be soon.​

[I'M BREATHING]​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

Scorchstreak is no stranger to the supposed “dirty” tasks that come with a life in WindClan. She’s never shied away from the unsavory duties that come right along with being a tunneler. But she also doesn’t exactly spring at every chance to get her paws dirty. So when she spots Wolfsong and Whitepaw sorting through the prey pile, the calico strides over but makes no move to intervene. The two likely have a rhythm that she is loathe to interrupt.

She tracks the apprentice’s movements for a few moments, silently observing before deciding to speak up. "Have you found anything concerning? I wouldn’t be surprised if something’s begun to go bad," she says, but does not offer to help. Her golden gaze lands upon the eggs that Whitepaw sets aside—they look tasty, but they must be beginning to go bad by now. Before her time in WindClan, the tunneler would have simply taken the chance of bad eggs, but now, with a prey pile that is refilled daily, there is no need. She isn’t at risk of starvation with each passing day anymore.
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[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[SHADOWRUNNER]

\╱╲I SEE A RED DOOR & I WANT IT PAINTED BLACK╱╲/​

Shadowpaw had to admit that he didn't particularly like it when it was hot and sunny. His dark pelt offered no slither of respite from the heat when it reached its worst, which left him feeling fortunate that he was mainly in the tunnels, far from the sun's gaze. However, today he was far more keen to get himself something to eat before he returned to his daily tasks, Though he was surprised to see Whitepaw filtering through the fresh-kill pile, clearly removing anything that had turned foul. "Never mind the concerning stuff, got anything super fresh? I'm kinda hungry." The young tom queried as he looked on with hopeful eyes.

NO COLOURS ANYMORE I WANT THEM TO TURN BLACK
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[Mintshade]

"Oh good, someone is checkin' this shit already." Mintshade faked a gag as she wandered over, long neck stretched out to mimic the way a cat might actually retch but the only unsavory things to escape her maw was her usually bellowing laughter, "Gyeh heh heh, I was asked to see if it was okay too but since you're all so dilligently looking already I'll just oversee!" Fantastic, no need to waste her time sniffing for rot or anything else when plenty of fools were here to do the dirty work as is.
"Thrushtail ate somethin' real rank this mornin'. Old codger wouldn't spit it out when we told'em to cause he didn't wanna waste food so now he's got a bad belly-the fool." Plenty to eat on the pile right now, WindClan was doing quite well newleaf thus far and sometimes those elders were too stubborn for their own good. Honestly, she hoped she died before she got that old; where logic was second to stubbornness and poor habits. You know, actually now that she thought it. She already had all of that so there was no real reason to grow old at all! Dying in the glory of battle would be more fun anyways.
A dark paw reached out to roll one of the eggs Whitepaw had removed toward herself before she could be stopped and she batted it over to Shadowpaw with a wide grin, "Ain't nothing more fresh than an egg! Go ahead!"
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[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 Like Sunflowerpaw, she is not especially talkative, but he does not mind this. Were he the sort to struggle with reading the unspoken language of facial expressions, perhaps he might, but he's fairly confident he can discern enough to gauge some of her reactions. Discomfort is plain on most faces, and the way her eyes water in the sunlight has Wolfsong regretting this decision. He hopes if it becomes unbearable, she will say so; that is not something Wolfsong can read so clearly.

"Ah, this one is starting to turn." It's a small bird, its flesh ripening in scent and far too soft to his prodding paw. He sets it aside to discard, then licks his lips, meaning to speak with her— and Scorchstreak arrives. He smiles at her, friendly. "Not yet. Nothing so foul that its stench has put me on my arse." Wolfsong chuckles, and the sound fades into a deep breath as Mintshade announces herself with a cackle. Coarse as always, and he has half a mind to challenge her so-called supervision when he hears Shadowpaw. Setting aside a mouse still safe to eat, he glances up to nod at Sunflowerpaw's brother.

"That mouse there is fresh," he offers, nodding his head to the rodent he'd just nudged away. "You look as though a roll in the pool might do you some good." Such dark pelts are useful in winter, but not so much in blistering heat. "Careful with the egg. If it's foul, cracking it open will leave the camp reeking for days."

He takes the opportunity to look over at Whitepaw again, moving closer under the guise of pawing through more prey. "A few rotten kills risk spoiling the fresh prey around it," he tells her, "and the same can be said of us. Like Badgerpaw, though I know you did not have to sniff him to know he reeks."
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[whitedawn]

In a few short moments, a trio of felines had joined them in the form of Scorchstreak, Shadowpaw, and Mintshade. Questions were raised towards her and yet Wolfsong answered most of them for her before she had the opportunity to. Offering the group a small smile, she continued to go through the pile, picking out any softened or ripe-smelling prey. She glanced over at the golden-hued tom as he leaned down to help further, all while she carefully rolled an awful-smelling lizard away from the pile. "A few rotten kills risk spoiling the fresh prey around it," She heard the words, giving a slight nod to show she heard, scanning the pile for a moment. "and the same can be said of us. Like Badgerpaw, though I know you did not have to sniff him to know he reeks." At his next words, the ivory girl pauses, squinted rose-hued eyes scanning the camp as if to spot the mentioned tom. Thankfully nowhere in sight, she took a moment to consider Wolfsong's words, as she went through the pile. There was a lesson in this, wasn't there? If the warrior was using rotten prey as a comparison to Badgerpaw then... "It isn't best to ignore it..." Came her whispered response. It was more of a statement than a question, but it didn't fully lack that inquiring tone. Of course, she mostly knew that answer, having tried to ignore the tom for him to make it personal. ​

[I'M BREATHING]​

 

[✧ Venomthroat.]

I REALLY COULDN'T CARE LESS

venomthroat | 26 months | non-binary | they/them | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold black

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Venomthroat has never been more grateful that they were a fully fledged adult upon their merging into windclan. To be stuck with such tedious and disgusting tasks such as searching the freshkill pile for prey gone bad... well, suffice it to say they think they might have just left and lived the loner life after all. Dark eyes follow the two from their place in the sunniest patch of camp, listing with one ear - they're not opposed to the knowledge itself after all, and they never received any formal training in the marsh group. Wolfsong seems especially knowledgeable today, but they're not sure why they're all that surprised. The tom is a lead warrior for a reason they suppose. "... how do you know if the eggs bad then if you can't crack it?" they ask, blatantly interrupting.

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[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 He watches the understanding slowly unfurl across her pale features, and nods in response to her murmured conclusion. "Precisely," he confirms. "Though it is not as simple as inspecting prey. I've found that surprising a bully can be rather effective, however." While there were a few children who did not treat him kindly when he was young, Sunstride's open friendship with him deterred anything serious, and he'd quickly learned how to send them slinking off with a well-directed insult. "What do you think would knock Badgerpaw off-balance? Take him by surprise?"

He means to continue guiding her in that line of thought, but Venomthroat works their way into the conversation with little grace. Wolfsong hums, rolling one of the eggs under his paw. "I was taught that if you hear an egg's insides while rolling it like so, it has gone foul."
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