camp WATCH YOUR STEP ✧ intro

[MINKHAZE]

Squish, Squish, Squish

Minkhaze's ears flick at the sound of their own paw steps trekking through the slick mud, a repetitive noise that filled the camp thanks to the recent greenleaf storm. For a cat who lived and breathed the marshes it was a noise and feeling they could never grow used to. The mud was always cold, it was hard to groom out of your pelt and, more often than not, you weren't the only thing navigating through the goopy earth. Minkhaze could hardly keep count over the plethora of things that they've stepped on in the past; bugs and frogs reigned supreme but they will never forget their encounter with a slow moving snake. They only had StarClan to thank for it being somewhat harmless.

Squish, Squish, CRRROOOAAAAAKKKKKKKKKK

The intrusion of the monotonous sound makes Minkhaze flinch, their splotched face screwing up into a tight expression as they moved their paw away from the source of the noise. The frog that was pinned beneath the earth sprang free of their grasp, splashing into the earth with another squish. "Hm" was all they could manage as they turn to leave it be, figuring the kits and apprentices would find some enjoyment in tormenting the amphibian. They were just a few paw steps in when another squishy and slimy texture met the underside of their pad, prompting the warrior to make a guttural noise and pull their foot free of the mud. "What the--" another frog sprang forth from where they stepped, landing a few tail lengths away from yet another hiding frog.

It seemed the recent rain had tempted the creatures out of hiding, because now there were frogs everywhere.


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[hitch]

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────── R O S E M I R E ──────
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Rosemire's lived here for long enough that he shouldn't mind the frogs or the mud— but he does, somehow. Of course, he doesn't bear the same disgust he had when he first came to this place, back when they were just the marsh cats. Rosemire's resigned himself to the use of mud, which he tends to rely on for coverage both from the sun and from prey, like frogs. But he still hasn't acquired a taste for the leggy bastards, and carrying them back to camp in his mouth is often more than he can handle as far as sensations go.

It means that when he sees Minkhaze step on not just one, but two frogs, he's too caught up in the hilarity of their expressions to care about hunting down the abundance of critters. "Can't imagine what that's like," he says once he knows he can talk without chuckling. "Minding your own business and a giant paw flattens you into the mud? If frogs had claws, I think you'd be limping for a while."
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[Starlingheart]

Starlingheart remembers back when she had been much younger. She, like Minkhaze, had discovered a frog in camp, though instead of many there had only been one and she had attempted to keep it as a pet of sorts, insisting that no one consume it as prey. A few cats had protested, but ultimately the frog had gotten away unscathed. She suspects that these frogs would not be so lucky.

She lets out a soft huff of amusement at Rosemires's words, she too cannot imagine what it would be like to be sunning herself and then to be stepped on. Would she lash out with claws? She is uncertain. "If-if frogs had claws then we would uhm- we would cert-certainly have to- have to watch our pawsteps more" she chides alongside the white furred tom, a soft rumble of a purr emanating from her throat.
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[NETTLEPAW ♡]

An infestation- like insects, the ants his mother had pointed out, but... bigger. Meatier. Meals, bouncing around...

Often Nettlekit kept his attention upon the warriors coming and going from camp, absorbing information and conversation with watchful eyes and angled ears. Usually the actions were monotonous, even if the conversations weren't; but today was an exception! Where most wrinkled their noses or spat a complaint at the sudden influx of frogs flooding in, Nettlekit's ivory features lit up in a brilliant grin. He'd not noticed them creeping out until that incoming warrior had stepped on one, making a squelch of a sound.

His pupils dilated, focus narrowing in as he lowered himself into a hunting crouch. It was youthful and inexperienced, the creeping gait a little clumsy- but it was not as woeful as it could have been, potential shining through. Pouncing wasn't yet an option... his claws weren't quite sharp enough to pierce yet, and his teeth might not puncture such rubbery skin... but he could follow, follow, follow. Like this.​

penned by pin ♡​

 

[Needledrift]

A small smile plays on Needledrift's crooked face as she surveys Nettlekit's attempt at stalking. She found that the more time that passed, the more charming she found Starlingheart's children. Whether it was little Ghostkit with her thoughtful gifts or Nettlekit with his bountiful curiosity, they were certainly a welcome addition (in her opinion) to any scene.

She turns her green eyes to the ground next, towards a smaller frog that had decided to land close to her paw. She reaches out, touching it gently with the soft tips of her toes. In a flash, the frog leaps away, and annoyed little rrrrrrrrbt emanating out from its bumpy body. Needledrift jumps up with a rrrw!, her tail bushing up the slightest bit at the sudden movement. Oh, dear! ​

 

[FERNDANCE]

"Frogs have claws." Ferndance blinked as if dumbfounded that no one else had heard about the fact that she had made up mere seconds ago. Despite the clan's carnivorous ways, it seemed that there was never a shortage of frogs finding their way into the camp - not that she was complaining! Pride be damned and in spite of her status as a competent hunter, food was often best when you didn't have to work for it. "They're just... blunt, and look like green berries." Toes, the correct answer was that those 'green berries' were toes. The Lead Warrior seemed to recognise this as she offered those gathered a coy smile, hovering by Needledrift's side with a lackadaisical air to her as her friend was jumpscared by one of the blunt-clawed beasts. Her nostrils twitched in a scarcely concealed amusement, her whiplike tail lashing from side to side as she considered hunting one of the offending frogs in the other's honour. Before long, the ticked tabby was attempting to emulate the annoyed amphibian's ribbit down the other's ear, several octaves off of the deep rumble and loud enough to catch the attention of anyone else nearby. All Ferndance could hope was that her cries weren't realistic enough to warrant her being hunted too.

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