untamed | roadkill

[BONERIPPLE]

Quiet. It's soothing and it helps her to think. Frankly she is a little worried about her son, Fogpaw, and if he is getting along with the other apprentices. What his training is like? Is he making progress? Sometimes she wishes she could have trained him because she knows how to communicate with him but alas her path led her elsewhere and now she has an apprentice of her own to teach as she learns how to handle all of the injuries and other things as everything progressed. What worries her more is her herb stock and she will have to be careful with how she tends to the wounded and those with sickness. Heated gaze lifts up to the quiet pine trees and she takes in a deep breath before she releases it and pauses. Something strange tickles her senses, in the dead of night no less. The moon shines against thin snow as she starts to track the scent, nose twitching and she pauses once again only because the direction she is headed is the thunderpath. A border they share with Thunderclan and she also has no love for the monster tracks. Still the scent is compelling and so she sucks it up and continues on her way.

As the pines thin and the ground becomes harder, she can smell the acrid smell of the thunderpath. The scent of monsters coming and going. Right now it is quiet and she can at least relax at the current moment. Stepping down into the ditch beside the path her paws crunch against the ice and she finally sees it. A large creature with bone curling from its head. Battered and broken much like her sister's body had been. Blood stains the ground around it and it smells rather fresh. At least with cold it smells fresh enough. "No way I can carry this back to camp though." ​

 

[Halfshade]

Leaf-bare, leaf-bare, leaf-bare, it was all anyone spoke of anymore and for good reason she supposed but the more it was said the less she felt dread and more annoyance at the mere mention of it. Yes, yes, any sensible cat would be prepared and knew to stock food as best they could-but the fearmongering and paranoia this clan was pushing as they worked themselves to an early grave was a bit much.

The crisp breeze ruffled her thick pelt, she did not feel the chill in the air nor did she linger in place long enough for it to settle down through thick fur and burrow into her bones; her blood kept pumping warmly as she gave a delighted jog along to the thunderpath with the intent to poke about for anything that might not have made it across the blackened tar border. It was easy pickings and she stopped by often when hunting was going especially poor, it was a surprise to see the medicine cat this far out and practically invisible at an angle where she stood a dark shadow within the divet alongside the road.
"Bonejaw! Are you-Oh my!" She catches sight of the carcass, ears pricking upward in enthusiasm at the find.

She had lied days prior about a dead deer, an undeniable treat for the clan and enough food to fill every belly even twice over if they were lucky enough to find one mostly in-tact. Often times it was already pecked at by the carrion birds or scavenged by foxes long before the clan got wind of its presence. When she had lured Hawktail from the camp it was with the promise of this bountiful prey, how lovely to see her whimsy became reality. Shame the other warrior was no longer alive to enjoy it as well. Dogs, you know. Awful things they were, made quick work of an unguarded cat with ease. Halfshade imagined there was nothing left that would be possible to bury if they ever did manage to find out where the calico had gone.

Halfshade gives a lighthearted laugh as she clambers over, sizing up the broken body of the great creature with both mismatched eyes narrowed in interest.
"Now this is a lot of food! Care for some help in dragging some of this? Perhaps we tear off some pieces?" Was this also an excuse to sink her teeth in and have a little taste as well? Perhaps! She hadn't had deer in quite a long time so it would be a treat to drag through the marshland back to camp.
​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

the lack of prey is unmistakable. the fire did nothing for them, and the cold isn't helping either. days like these would only further, and get worse and worse. they needed food, because no matter how much they hadn't wanted it, they were so many damned mouths to feed. so many cats that couldn't fend for themselves, leaving it to the able bodied and stars there was not enough prey to keep them able bodied enough. with a twitch of their nose, they followed the scent of bonejaw, perking up their ears with a soft smile towards the medicine cat.

"talking to yourself, hun? oh! whats this?"

halfshade offers her two sense and it's not exactly a bad idea. it was probably the only way they'd get it all back, unless there was more of them, but they needed not to make this too obvious to nearby predators.

"good idea. maybe if we get a few more cats we can all break pieces off and leave the bones and stuff for the ravens. if they eat what we don't then... it will give us more prey. i know birds are harder to catch but i dont think anyone will object to eating one, hmm?"

tapping their paw on the ground they began to gently pacr back and forth.

"if no one else joins us, one of us can stay while the others break off pieces and lug it back. get more cats to help while fending off any potential thieves."
​

[ NOBODY ELSE MATTERS, GIRL ]​

 

[FLICKERFIRE]

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮​

She's on her way to the Thunderpath anyway. Her purpose isn't herb-gathering or hunting, but to see if she can see bright gold along the undergrowth on the other side, to fool around before she has to go back to her miserable and dark life in ShadowClan.

But the scent of food spurs her in another direction, and the creature splayed on the road brings up foul memories of a leader no longer with them.

But...

Her mouth waters at the sight.

"I'll help," she declares, practically bouncing on her paw pads. "Wish I'd brought Siltpaw... extra paws could be useful." Well, of course she didn't bring Siltpaw... her purpose had been to see Emberstar, after all. Wasn't anyone else's business but her's.

- ,,​

​

 

[Shimmerpaw]

SAM SHIMMERPAW - SHADOWCLAN - TOM - SINGLE - HOMOSEXUAL​

---

"What is it?" Shimmer asked as he regarded the large animal, peaking out from around Halfshade to observe it with a curious glint in his eyes. He supposed the what didn't really matter so long as it was edible, and next to the frogs and lizards most things were. He was told by the older cats that winters in the marsh were difficult. The ground iced over thanks to all the moisture and the heat-loving prey seemingly vanished once the frost came. This year things were bound to be worse though thanks to the fire, an event Shimmerpaw was glad to have missed. "I can help too." he quickly offered as talk fell to bringing it back. The cream tabby was eager to prove useful to the cats around him, and if that meant carrying back a strange piece of prey he had no problem with that.

​

---

-- A SMALL, SLEEK CREAM TABBY WITH SKY BLUE EYES. HE HAS HIGH WHITE MARKINGS WITH CREAM COLORED SPOTS AND SPECKLES ON THEM

 

[smogstar]

Should Smogmaw starve to death this coming Leaf-bare, his clanmates are permitted to feast on his corpse. He isn't good enough for a dignified burial, nor is he deserving of his legacy to be passed on through word of mouth. Just eat him, enjoy him, and then forget about him. And in the case of someone else meeting a similar demise, then he is quite content with treating their mortal remains in the same way.

These forthcoming moons will turn out to be disastrous. Prey is difficult enough to come by in its present condition. Once a layer of snow blankets the marsh, causing all the swamp life to hibernate or whatever they do, the swamp group's food source is going to diminish even further. Fun times to be had by all.

As if he needs another reason to be joyless, the tabby mulls along on his apprentice's heels. He keeps his distance and operates under a guise of subtlety, contemplating Shimmerpaw's conduct as he moves in the border's direction. Something must have caught the lad's eye - or rather, nose. A fetid stench reaches his own nostrils the closer he encroaches on the thunderpath, and soon the outlines of some fellow Shadowclanners emerge into view along the path's ridge.

"Deer, a dead one," Smogmaw remarks, coming up alongside his apprentice. Brown eyes skim over the creature's remains with great interest. It must have been the victim of a monster, and by the signs of it, recent. "Could always roll it," he says, imagining himself pushing it in the same manner he did to the monster's foot a while back. He draws on the deceased beast's flank, inspecting its belly. "If we all got on one side and pushed it, we might get it back to camp faster." His strategy sounds very labour-intensive, but he really does not care. He wants to eat this thing's entrails like fine cuisine.​