border you're my pride and joy ] windclan hunting

whitepaw

did i disappoint you?
Jan 29, 2024
26
8
3
Whitepaw trails the patrol, his steps careful as he picks his way across the frozen ground. ShadowClan's territory feels foreign, its pungent scents sharp in his nose, but Whitepaw refuses to let discomfort show. His posture is poised, standing tall even as he carefully navigates the frost-covered undergrowth. His ears twitch at every sound, yellow eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp precision. He lags slightly behind the others, more out of preference than necessity. Hunting in a group is never his favorite, especially not here, where every step feels like it echoes in the unnatural quiet of the frostbitten forest. He veers off the main path, moving through a patch of brittle ferns. His breath clouds in the cold air as he crouches, pausing to let the faint sounds of the forest come into focus. A soft scrabbling sound reaches his ears.

Carefully, Whitepaw advances, his movements deliberate and precise. The sound grows louder, a faint scratching accompanied by the occasional rustle of leaves. He lowers himself closer to the ground, muscles coiled as he rounds a moss-covered stump. There, not far ahead, a rat scavenges among the dead leaves, its gray-brown body blending with the frost-bitten surroundings. Whitepaw narrows his eyes, a small surge of satisfaction blooming in his chest. Perfect. He slows his breathing, aligning his steps with the natural rhythm of the forest. Each paw lands softly, deliberately, as he closes the gap between himself and the unsuspecting prey. His tail hovers just above the ground, the tip flicking once before going still.

When he's close enough to taste the scent of the rat on his tongue, Whitepaw pauses, the silence of the moment pressing around him. Then, with a quick movement, he strikes. His claws sink into the rat's body, cutting off its squeal with a swift, efficient bite to the neck. The creature goes limp in his jaws, its warm blood stark against the icy chill of the air. Whitepaw straightens, taking a moment to assess his catch. Rather large, healthy. Enough to feed at least a cat or two. His tail flicks, and he allows a brief glance toward where the rest of the patrol moves ahead. They haven't noticed his small detour. He pads quickly back toward the group, carrying his prize with pride. Rejoining the patrol, Whitepaw doesn't speak, instead slipping into line with a practiced air of disinterest. The rat dangles from his jaws, its weight satisfying even as the chill bites at him.

[ rolled a 4 for encounter, 16 so he keeps prey, and 14 for medium size ]
[ @whitedawn @Frightpaw @FOXGLARE @Daisywatcher. patrol tags! ]​
 
She has come without Starlingheart today, and despite her awful encounter with WindClan warriors the last time she wandered toward the Thunderpath, she has come with a heart filled with hope. Eager eyes scan the moor opposite her for a glimpse of windblown golden fur, for bright green eyes and a cheerful voice searing through the noise of the Thunderpath. She finds trouble instead, unfortunately. An apprentice with a white face lifts his head, a rat dangling from his jaws. Marblepaw's eyes narrow, and she steps from the grass with her pale tabby fur bristling, hoping she looks more intimidating than last time.

"And where do you think you're going with that, huh? That belongs to ShadowClan!" She does not immediately attack — not this time — as, no doubt, there are others lurking around the mire.

  • ooc:
  • pcAn1D5.jpeg
  • Marblekit . Marblepaw, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
    — "speech", thoughts, attack
    — 10 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
    — mentored by Starlingheart ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
    — shadowclan medicine cat apprentice, formerly a rogue. siltcloud x lilacfur, gen 3.
    — currently mated to n/a.
    — penned by Marquette.

    sh fawn tabby with dull green eyes. courageous, curious, introspective, observant, judgmental, snarky.

 
𓆱 The WindClan border is an awful place, between the stink of the thunderpath and the stink of the moorland. Rabbit droppings would smell better than a WindClanner… And speaking of WindClanners, there's one on the wrong side of the border right now. Marblepaw bristles up defensively, confronting the white-headed feline, and Branchpaw moves to stand at his cousin's side. His own pale fur stands in stiff peaks along his neck, long legs drawn into a crouch and prepared to leap at the trespasser if need be.

"Hey!" He bares his teeth at the intruder, taking a long stride forward. Placing himself in between the WindClanners and Marblepaw is a strategic move; if a fight breaks out, she'll have time to run and get help. She's also the healer, so if he gets hurt, she can fix it… maybe. "Get out of here, or we'll make you." On his own, the boy wouldn't dare charge forward like he does—but Marblepaw is right there, and Flintwish is somewhere behind him. He isn't alone. Of course, the WindClanner isn't alone, either, but even a whole patrol of the moor-dwellers couldn't intimidate him into backing off. He has to defend his territory, no matter who threatens it.

  • ooc: mentor tag @FLINTWISH
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  • BRANCHPAW ❯❯ he/him, apprentice of shadowclan
    𖠰 fluffy lilac tabby with white spotting and amber eyes. quiet and seething, but a natural storyteller.
    𖠰 son of ferndance and needledrift ; brother to bonechill, bloodwing, shadewhisker, snowypaw, gigglepaw, morelpaw
    𖠰 mentored by flintwish
    𖠰 peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    𖠰 penned by foxlore
 
  • Love
Reactions: MARBLEPAW
*+:。.。 Frightpaw stares in fascination at the border between clans. A long, dead river of unnaturally flattened stone that reeks of things unnatural and foreign. She wonders if this is what death smells like. If, upon this cold, empty void that scars the land Starclan's light can't properly shine? She wonders if those who die on this strip will be barred from the path to Starclan.
A part of her is so curious to find out.

In the meantime, she watches fondly as Shadowclan apprentices rise out of the muggy marsh to confront her adoptive brother. She looks between him, to the others, to the prey in his jaws, to the carefully placed paws on Windclan's secured land. And she smiles.

"We're on our side of the border " she announces to the two on the other side, "you've properly scared us off! Oh no! " The feisty lilac tabby in particular leaves her tickled - what's he going to do? Whitepaw - and Windclan by proxy - already won! She wonders, briefly, if she can convince the boy to step onto the Thunderpath. She wonders if he'll be too stubborn to tell her what it's like to die on that desolate not-stone. Granted, a monster would have to appear for that to happen, unless Frightpaw wishes to take his life herself.

She grins at the thought, but looking from one end of the ever flowing not-river to the other, she doesn't see - or hear - any opportunities to assuage her curiosity approaching. Oh well.

"Now Whitepaw, don't you know its wrong to take other clan's prey? Tsk, tsk, can't you see how frightening Shadowclan is? How easily they can kill us? " she purrs, her eyes never quite leaving Branchpaw's. Once she's made a big show of shaking in her boots, she'll turn her silvery blue eyes upon Branchpaw fully. Shards of moon rock pierce her over confident opponent as she offers, "You want your prey back, right? " a smile lights up her face and makes those too-pale eyes glow, "come take it "

Perhaps she won't need a monster to do her dirty work after all.
  • " Speech "
    GENERAL:
    Frightpaw
    DFAB— She/Her — Unsure
    9 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
    Windclan apprentice
    Sister to Deathpaw, Witherpaw, Grasspaw, Whitepaw and Midnightpaw

    COMBAT:
    Physically easy | mentally medium
    Attack in bold #1b1e21
    injuries: None
 

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.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. The Thunderpath was one of Briarthorn's least favorite places to visit. The sight of the acrid black rock only brought forth memories the ebony warrior would rather forget- besides, the rumbling alongside the cold made the warriors belly scar throb uncomfortably.

Despite her personal feelings, Briarthorn had a duty to Morelpaw. She was a mentor now, afterall. The walk is silent as she picks her way through the frozen marshland with her apprentice in tow, watching as their terrain gradually becomes drier as they make their way towards the Thunderpath.

They've hardly arrived when Marblepaw's confrontation just up ahead send alarm bells ringing in Briarthorn's mind. Signaling for Morelpaw to remain quiet, she starts off towards the commotion. Spotting the two WindClan apprentices across the border with a ShadowClan rat clamped in one of their jaws, Briarthorn's brow bone furrows. Marblepaw's and Branchpaw's ferocity wasn't strong enough to quell Leafbare madness.

Instead of looking to the apprentices who goad Marblepaw and Branchpaw, slitted hazel hues would be turned disapprovingly to the rest of the neighboring patrol. "And here we thought WindClan's days of stealing from ShadowClan were over." The warrior comments coldly. StarClan would have to pry the memory of Smogstar's kits being led onto the moors from her cold, dead paws. "Has WindClan forgotten how to hunt rabbits?"
  • apprentice tag — @MORELPAW
  • BRIARTHORN she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
    slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
    daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by Noor@toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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