The wind howls through the forest, whipping snowflakes into a frenzy that stings against Howlpaw's fur. Its paws sink into the deep drifts with every step, leaving an uneven trail behind it. The cold bites at its nose and claws at its ears, but it presses on, amber eyes narrowed against the storm. Each inhale fills its chest with icy air, but Howlpaw forces itself to keep moving, determination etched into its every step. Prey feels impossible to find in this blizzard, but it refuses to return empty-pawed. It casts a glance at the shadowy figure of Tigerwing somewhere behind it—a reminder that this is not a lone hunt, even if it feels that way in the isolating roar of the wind.
Howlpaw's ears twitch, straining to catch even the faintest sound beneath the relentless storm. The usual scents of the forest are buried under layers of snow, making it rely on every ounce of instinct it has. It stalks forward carefully, claws unsheathing in anticipation. Each step is deliberate, careful not to disturb the fragile blanket of snow more than necessary. Then—there. A faint movement catches its eye near the base of a gnarled bush, half-buried in frost. Howlpaw freezes, its body lowering instinctively, and it squints to confirm the faint quiver of fur through the white haze. A shrew. The creature is small, barely a mouthful, but it's there, alive and tangible. Prey.
Howlpaw's heart pounds as it creeps closer, every muscle coiled tight despite the numbing cold. Its claws unsheathe fully now, ready to strike. The shrew moves again, pawing at the snow in search of its own meager meal. The moment it stills, Howlpaw lunges. Its strike is swift, precise—a flash of claws and fangs in the swirling snow. The shrew falls limp beneath its paws. Howlpaw stands over it, breathing heavily, the warmth of the kill seeping faintly into its pads even as the cold threatens to steal the feeling from them entirely. It lifts the tiny creature carefully in its jaws, a flicker of pride warming its chest despite the freezing air. The storm rages on around it, but Howlpaw stands firm, amber eyes scanning for Tigerwing's figure in the snow. It may be a small victory, but out here, in this blizzard, even small victories mean survival.
[ rolled a 16 for no encounter, 11 to catch prey, and a 1 for size ]
[ @tigerwing mentor tag ]
Howlpaw's ears twitch, straining to catch even the faintest sound beneath the relentless storm. The usual scents of the forest are buried under layers of snow, making it rely on every ounce of instinct it has. It stalks forward carefully, claws unsheathing in anticipation. Each step is deliberate, careful not to disturb the fragile blanket of snow more than necessary. Then—there. A faint movement catches its eye near the base of a gnarled bush, half-buried in frost. Howlpaw freezes, its body lowering instinctively, and it squints to confirm the faint quiver of fur through the white haze. A shrew. The creature is small, barely a mouthful, but it's there, alive and tangible. Prey.
Howlpaw's heart pounds as it creeps closer, every muscle coiled tight despite the numbing cold. Its claws unsheathe fully now, ready to strike. The shrew moves again, pawing at the snow in search of its own meager meal. The moment it stills, Howlpaw lunges. Its strike is swift, precise—a flash of claws and fangs in the swirling snow. The shrew falls limp beneath its paws. Howlpaw stands over it, breathing heavily, the warmth of the kill seeping faintly into its pads even as the cold threatens to steal the feeling from them entirely. It lifts the tiny creature carefully in its jaws, a flicker of pride warming its chest despite the freezing air. The storm rages on around it, but Howlpaw stands firm, amber eyes scanning for Tigerwing's figure in the snow. It may be a small victory, but out here, in this blizzard, even small victories mean survival.
[ rolled a 16 for no encounter, 11 to catch prey, and a 1 for size ]
[ @tigerwing mentor tag ]
