camp We are the man-made monsters ♡ Fresh-kill pile

Mar 30, 2024
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*+:。.。 A large crow, almost bigger than himself, was about as difficult to bring home as it had been to catch. Wrathpaw's sides heaved as he struggled not to trip on the limp wing, but he raised his head and beamed with pride. All day he'd struggled to hunt. Much like the rest of his patrol - the rest of the clan, today was not as bountiful as one might've expected with the changing of the season. The air was so hot it practically vibrated, and anything that could find shade knew it foolish to escape whatever cooler spot they found. That meant that anything worth eating was hidden away more thoroughly in the shadows. It was almost cruel that all the birds and mice got to enjoy the darkness while Wrathpaw and his hunting party were left to scour through the forest, panting through the wall of hot and heavy air like every lungful was more sun than oxygen. No matter how many trips to the stream they took, Wrathpaw never stopped itching with sweat and exhaustion, any second convinced he was going to pass out before he scented anything, let alone catch it.

When the raven entered his sights, Wrathpaw had fought every instinct to charge at it. The animal had been trying to pluck a worm out of a hollow branch, starving enough to either not notice or care of its precarious position on the ground. Wrathpaw had focused his breathing, as he'd been taught. Muscles aching from a long day of trekking, he lowered himself into a poised crouch and crept slowly, the only sound being the raucous thump of blood in his ears. The bird had almost startled a few times - one of them, embarrassingly enough, had been when his stomach growled. But luckily, he moved himself into a close enough position that his success was assured, and with a powerful kick, he was upon the creature! A temporary wrestle, a few slaps to the face from a frantic wing, a nick in his forelimb where a talon aimed true, but ultimately all futile as his teeth found their mark.

And now, he holds the crow in his jaws, sweating, tired, but triumphant. He had never personally had crow before, so all the way home he wondered what it must taste like. But despite his grumbling stomach and buckling knees, when he arrived at camp he noticed a devastating sight.

A group of equally exhausted elders and queens pawed at the minimal scraps of prey. Today had been hot for everyone. Hunting had been a struggle for everyone. So when he brought home his crow, the needier members of the clan all perked their ears up with gratitude and excitement. And although they clapped his back and praised him for his catch, all he could focus on was-
"The kits are going to eat well tonight!"


And how angry those words left him.

After all...apprentices ate last.




  • GENERAL:
    Wrathkit
    DMAB— He/Him
    9 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
    Brother to Lovelight, Joywing, Laughblossom || Pridepaw, Merrypaw
    Thunderclan — Kit
    Mentored by Wildheart




    COMBAT:
    Physically mediocre | mentally easy
    Attack in bold #4a59ff
    injuries: None currently
 
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"You hunted well today, Wrathpaw. You've served the clan well, especially given the difficult conditions that we were working under." Wildheart was truly impressed with the catch that his apprentice had managed that day. To take down a crow alone was no easy feat, but he was proud that his apprentice had managed it all the same. Though he had no idea of the strife in Wrathpaw's heart over giving up such a valiant catch.
 
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bayingkit was born with a hunger she had yet to properly satiate ; a lonely space in her belly that twangs and howls it’s desperation until her mouth brims with drool again. she is a large kitten, still growing into limbs like rotting oak, leaf death brown ribboned in coils of sludge black and too long for her squared body. awkward as a pup with half the charm, a loping step bringing her nearer to where wrathpaw ducks through the gorse tunnel. wrathpaw tolerated her, she’d found — tolerated the ground - close sniffing she does at paws that still smell of ivy and fresh crowsblood, the roundabout way she circles him as he wanders along with his catch. a big, rufflefeathered bird, with wings the color of starless night. the rubberdark corners of her maw grow damp, awkward ears tilting down as she stops a place in front of him.

his exertion, his pride, his yearning is lost on her ; daughter of pristine lead, first served, first full. even wildheart is nothing but a hunger - blurred and smattering of ember at her peripheries, focus never leaving the limp dangle of bird and the steady drip of warm blood trailing from a killing blow until.. she looks at wrathpaw with severe eyes, a heady mix of usual sap - green, and down to his catch. then, back up, an expectant wrinkle of her nose revealing smattering rows of small, crooked teeth and giving a loud click click. she snaps lupine maw twice in quick succession, as close to a please, thank you and gimme as the wild - furred child would ever get.

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  • i.

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  • ” speech “
  • BAYINGKIT——————— SHE / HER, KITTEN OF THUNDERCLAN. NIGHTBIRD xx RACCOONSTRIPE, SISTER TO TWILIGHTKIT, TIGERKIT, STORMKIT & LIGHTNINGKIT. 3 MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE DISRUPTED SOIL & WET FUR. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
    a large, unsightly black tabby kitten.
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    mongrelish, standing all thistlethorn fur and bared teeth, bayingkit would be thought roguish if not for the dogtooth crown she uncomfortably bears. a hereditary haunting lies in the shag of ornate black striping and long limbs that do not yet suit her wide, slouching shoulders ; her fathers daughter, laced in dredge and filth moreso than he’d ever been. a constant, incessant need to make herself small forms in hunched spine and weary, whale - eyed suspicion, communicating mostly in rumbling growls.. bayingkit tends to hold herself with a tuck tailed and trembling livewire of feral volatility.
    teething, easily frustrated with her lack of vocal skill and highly reactive. prone to biting, swatting and general moodiness it is highly encouraged to correct. powerplay is allowed for disciplinary swipes, scruffing and general redirection.


 
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Stormywing watches from a nearby branch, blue tabby fur warm from the sunlight she'd been bathing in. With a tild of her head, she can't help but notice the size of her friend's apprentice's catch. It's...impressive! "Hey Wrathpaw! That crow's a beauty!" She calls out, grinning with admiration. What a feat for such a young tom!

With surprising grace from the usually uncaring she-cat, she leaps down from her perch, the branch having been a low-hanging limb over the camp wall. Her ankles twinge with a bit of pain at the distance, but she shakes it off. "It's not easy to take one of those down, especially on a day like this," The warrior continues, casting narrow eyes briefly towards the sweltering sun.

As Bayingkit approaches, her eager eyes fixated on the fresh-kill, Stormywing can't help but chuckle. "Looks like someone's got a keen eye for dinner." A huff, a glance. Go on, hand it over, She seems to say. You know the rules. Besides, she's sure Nightbird will have their pelts if her child isn't fed.