camp WICKEDNESS ¡! scary story

[WEBWHISKER !!]

❝ The blackness of night is slowly, but surely creeping over the heads of them all. Treeless as their skies were, no one could hide from it. And yet, as the rest of the clan begins to settle in— slow, idle chatter washing over camp, the dusk patrol returning after their rounds— there's a stray pair of tunnelers returning, still. "Huh. Got caught up?" she'd call to them, comfortably sprawled out on her side with a brow quirked in question. Webwhisker hardly saw the point in working yourself to the bone when it was finally the season for moor-runners to be useful again.

All the good talkin' buddies are taken, though, and she has nothing better to do than scare the shit out of them; either that, or be the one to tell them the legend for the fifth time. Whether she'd be met with screams or eyerolls, she was happy, honest. Webwhisker cracks a lopsided grin; whistles lowly to accompany her warning. "You suure you wanna be out there so late at night?" They pause for dramatic effect, allowing their question to linger in the air, like there was a reason; somethin' to look out for. Webwhisker would turn away from them, eyes half-lidded. She shrugs. "To each their own, I guess. But yaknow... Once upon a time, another gal got just the same idea you had, y'know? Was creepin' around under there at night... Was leaf-bare, y'know, and she caught that telltale whiff of rabbit–" She cuts herself off to lift her nose in exaggerated sniffs, like she was in those very same tunnels. Whiskers quivering, nose twitching...

"So she went runnin', but the thing was fast, she pushed and pushed and pushed until the tunnels very walls couldn't handle her racket. WHAM–!" Webwhisker barks, anyone not already listenin' to her probably would be, at this point. She's a skilled actress, really. "The ceiling's comin' down! And, oho" They chuckle lowly. "So was she, Never heard from again." The dark fur along her spine gradually flattens. They'd offer an ominous look to anyone who'd been lookin' at them. "Well, was a long time ago now..."

Webwhisker rolls her shoulders. "But they say you can hear her in the walls when you're down there at night... like there's hardly anythin' seperatin' you from her tomb. And she's a spiteful girl, ya see..." They'd grin wickedly to any fellow tunnelers nearby, claws flashing sudden in the gleam of the moon. "Make the same mistake as her, an she might just drag ya down with her!"

[ @AMBERTAIL ; but not pafp! >:) ]​

 

[BLUEFROST]

It is late -- too late for the kits to be out, some might say, but Bluekit is drawn to the small circle of tunnelers curved about Webwhisker's tiny black body. She's got her muzzle thrust into the air, her voice crackly like a fire, telling some sort of story.

I'm going to be a tunneler this moon, she thinks, pushing herself through the legs of the gathered warriors and apprentices. It is her right to be here, is it not? After all, their leader, her mother, is a tunneler herself.

The blue and white kit settles, tail curling about her body to listen to the story. There's something strange about the gleam in Webwhisker's eye, as though she's recounting something awful, but is gleeful to talk about it. Bluekit gets chills before she even begins to speak. When she does, it's a plain enough story. A she-cat goes into the tunnels at night, having caught a rabbit-scent near one of the openings.

"She pushed and pushed and pushed until the tunnels' very walls couldn't handle her racket." Bluekit's transfixed. She has never imagined the tunnels could be so small -- so tight around a cat's body. Do they close up when you go further? Do they gnaw on you like Moorkit or Adderkit to a prey bone?

Webwhisker's "WHAM!" sends Bluekit nearly jumping into the air. She's breathless, listening with rapture. The ceilings of the tunnels had come down on this she-cat hunting rabbits! Bluekit recoils, horror plain on her face. "So was she. Never heard from again." The tiny she-kit closes her eyes, imagining the ceiling of the nursery falling atop her, choking her with bits of soil and twig and reed and--

"You can die like that?" She squeaks, forgetting she is possibly not supposed to be in the audience. But Webwhisker isn't finished. Her voice drones on, saying the she-cat is spiteful, wailing throughout the tunnels at night, desperate to pull a cat down with her...

Bluekit's fur is on end. She can hardly speak. "H-have you s-seen her?" She asks fearfully, tremors clicking her teeth together.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Firefang]

Without the aid of the sun Firefang was little more then a pair of flaming eyes when night fell, the cover of inky darkness made for perfect cover for her if not for them. Regardless she's still an eerie site to be caught prowling, one day she hopes the other clans whisper horror stories about her. Her eyes set on Webwhisker, eyes narrowed nonplussed she'd overheard the drawl of the older molly and had crept closer to listen. Her fur prickles on the back of her neck, it's not so much a spooky story nah there was a twinge of truth there. She always wondered if Starclan's grace extended to the darkness of the tunnels or if they were blind to the horrors of the subterranean world below the moors as those not tasked with crawling through them were. She knows the sound of dirt rumbling and crushing in, can still taste dust in her throat and recall the sound of thunderous ruin as it echoed down the dark chambers of those burrows. Her and Smokepaw had gotten lucky that day - something she will never cease to feel a swell of bitterness in her heart towards. Tunnelers who didn't show caution and chased without thinking where they stepped were doomed to a early grave their bodies entombed to never to be blessed with moonstone.

She's a Moor-Runner now has no business humoring strangely humored dirt-cats, yet she still comes closer, far closer then she had been tail lashing behind her. A paw steps to the side of Bluekit and she casts the daughter of Sootstar a serious look ❝Yes you can, the Tunnels are dangerous❞ she doesn't sugarcoat not even for her. She expects many of her littermates if not she herself would take on the roles. They were tinier then most, Sootstar herself was small and she wouldn't blame them at all for wanting to follow in their mothers pawsteps and take on the prestigious role.

She looks up casting a disgusted look at Webwhisker ❝But their are no ghost cats poppin' up or shoutin' "boo" in the tunnels❞ she snips before looking back down towards Bluekit. ❝Worry 'bout the real dangers of the earth below not some lame ghost story❞ ​

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