you're a big shot here || bear scraps

The place Betonyfrost leads the hunting patrol is one she has been to countless times. The water here is such a depth that draws in nearly enough frogs to compete with the mosquitos that pockmark the air immediately above. It has always been a reliable spot — even for Betonyfrost's self admittedly poor hunting skills.

And right now, it is completely silent.

Betonyfrost had smelled the bear before she had set her eyes on the space, but the scent was stale enough to let her know that it had moved on sometime around dusk. At moonhigh, it should be nothing but noise here. Frogs should be croaking and night birds should be crooning and fish should be splashing the surface as they attempt to catch low flying insects. It shouldn't be silent, it shouldn't be holding its breath.

"StarClan," Betonyfrost whispers because she cannot stand how quiet it is, but cannot bring herself to break it completely.

The ground immediately surrounding the nearest pool is dug up in countless places. Black shards scatter the areas surrounding; Betonyfrost flips one with a feigned nonchalance and then flinches away when she finds the downward facing side to be a glossy white.

"StarClan," Betonyfrost says again, "These were mussels."

She had gone through a phase as a kit where she had been interested in eating them. It hadn't made sense to her as to why her clanmates would pass on prey so easy to catch. It was only after a frustrating afternoon of scraping kitten teeth over the too-tough shell that Betonyfrost had accepted that trying to chew on rocks would be just as likely to fill her belly. And here were those same shells, crushed and eaten clean.

"Is there anything these bears don't eat?"​
shadowclan queen | blue mackerel tabby | 20 moons | tags
 
ShadowClan’s forest is never this silent in the warmer seasons, especially at night. Where crickets and cicadas should hum, where frogs should glut, there is only an eerie, still quiet. Granitepelt—not for the first time—begins to carry the sensation that their home no longer belongs to them. Perhaps it never will again. He’s toyed with the idea a few times. That they’d all have to leave the marsh that had been their home for many moons. That they’d have to leave the forest altogether, and the other Clans behind.

It’s better than dying to claws that can crack stone and clean the contents. Betonyfrost surveys the wreckage of shattered shells with dismay. “Is there anything these bears don’t eat?” Granitepelt pads beside her, looking impassively at the mess. “I guess not.” He lowers his nose, grimacing at the stench of bear layered over the mussels’ briney scent. “Perhaps their goal is to rid us of every last edible thing in the forest before they take our home away from us for good.


[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 

ShadowClan's home had been a constant source of misery for the past six moons, and walking past areas that had only recently begun to have life breathed into them again, Ferndance could feel her stomach clawing for an escape chance again before things got as bad as the winter starvation. She walked with purpose through the ghost forest, neck craning towards the gloomy sky and mouth parted as she breathed in the acrid, invasive stench. Betonyfrost discovers something as she angles her head halfway towards the mackerel tabby, blinking incredulously before turning it the rest of the way. She'd seen birds swoop and pluck at their hard shells to grab whatever was inside, she supposed that all a bear had to do was crush it between its teeth and slurp up the juices like a poultice. Envy tickled her, she'd always wanted to taste mussels, could she not be a bear for a day? A question was posed and she lost her dream, a large ear twitching at a lonely fly buzzing around it. "Chilledstar. They don't eat Chilledstar." Else, the black and white cat would have never returned to them. Granitepelt is next to speak with an idea that makes her smile.

"I wonder if ThunderClan said that last leafbare..." The connection was hard to miss, except in ThunderClan's case, all they had to worry about were scrawny cats and not a giant bear. There's a twinkle in her emerald eyes as she dwells longer on the thought. "We could still do that to them when they least expect it..." Teeth appear in a mischievously enthusiastic grin, giving no indication if the idea was serious or a simple ruse to get the warriors thinking of ways to survive the problem. Like the river she'd once described to Betony, she was happy to go with the flow.

 
we could still do that to them, says ferndance, sounding gleeful, and primrosethorn huffs.

"this keeps up, we might not have a choice," he grumbles in agreement, with conviction but no authority. loyal through and through, he knows that choice won't be up to him, but he'll damn well follow orders to feed his clan, should it come to that again. warrior code aside, primrosethorn is loyal to cats. he's loyal to chilledstar and to shadowclan first. the code's an afterthought.

"they're not going to take our home for good," he says to granitepelt, harsh and bitter, instinctively defensive. what good is that attitude? but it's true the scene doesn't offer much hope for an alternative outcome — ground ravaged, mussel shells shattered, havoc wreaked by one singular creature. how many cats will it take to stand against that force — how many more lives?

aloud he'll wonder, "should we even bother trying to hunt here...? the place seems... dead."

the silence nags at him, too, and granitepelt's words linger in his mind. did the bear somehow kill and eat everything here? ​
 
Scorchedpaw had to admit that the lack of noise in the air really was eerie, even more so than the other clans would acclaim ShadowClan was in general. Noise was a natural part of his life, of any cat's life, and yet...and yet. It would be easy to break down, to feel like things were beyond salvation, and yet he does not falter. All the clans are still standing despite all the hardships they've faced in their short existence, and ShadowClan will not fall. They just have to face this current obstacle and pray there's prey (heheh, good one Scorch, he thinks) around here somewhere.

"Very dead, yes...but it doesn't hurt to try? Save for time, I suppose." He thinks they can afford to take the time, in their current state. They could also steal from ThunderClan, but is that really the best option they have right now? He doesn't think offering that point of view would do him any favors, though. "I'm sure we can find something here, even if it's small."
 

The silence in the air is unsettling as Ribbitleap follows behind the hunting patrol. With all that's been going on, he expects the territory to be far louder than what it is, to be filled with the bears' presence. It only comes in the faint stench of the beasts, a sign that they've moved away from the area the patrol currently stands in. The stale scent doesn't stop nerves from rising, though, as the silence bares a lack of prey to catch.

Betonyfrost breaks the silence first, in whispers that sound too loud in contrast to the stark nothingness they've been wading through. Swamp-green eyes flicker towards the crushed shells the warrior inspects - a remnant of the beasts' feast. Had they left anything for them?

Primrosethorn speaks a question that lingers in Ribbitleap's own mind, a concern in whether they should even be hunting here. The bears could have cleared the area out with their never-ending hunger, but, he thinks Scorchedpaw's thinking might be worth taking a chance on. Staying here seemed like the safe option, with bear scent still lingering.

"It wouldn't hurt to keep looking around here," he says, a torn ear twitching as he looks around, "Unless you want to go toward the bears."
 


"Perhaps all the critters are hiding, like us" She suggests morosely to the group. It was true, the whole forest had settled into a sort of eerie silence. It was deafening the way the frogs did not sing like normal. It was even more unsettling to feel hunted in your own home, like rounding any corner would bring them face to face with death. It is enough to make one not want to ever leave the safety of the tunnel. But someone had to ensure the rest of the clan was fed, that the sick and the injured, the queens the kits and the elders were all taken care of. It was not an easy task but she hopes that, one day, when she is as old and grumpy as Pearlwhisker(NPC) that some young spry warrior with a spring in their step would do the same thing for her. "Maybe we can look around for any burrows and see if we cant get some prey while they are hiding in their nests?" she suggests. Like Ribbitleap she doesn't want to have to go any closer to the overwhelming bear stench then she has to.