The Farm a window somewhere closing | intro/hunting

[aurora -]

★ There wasn't a cloud in the sky. At least, not that Aurora knew of - she'd only spared a quick glance overheard to check that there was no bad weather to trap her inside the barn, and the pale blue of the new day had been pretty perfect for the split second she'd seen it. There was no snow of moons past, none of the rain that had been petering out since the turn of seasons, not even a cloud to throw mottled shadows on the rolling ground. It was a perfect day. Her whiskers twitched as she fought the impulse to look back at the sky and indulge in the sheer beauty of it. It was a perfect day, yes, to hunt.

"Hey," she called softly into the barn, eyes searching for movement beyond the doorway and brightening when she saw not all was still. It wasn't terribly early - the sun had just said goodbye to the horizon, and there wasn't even a spluttering flame of orange left in the sky if Aurora remembered that split second well - but it, decidedly, was not midday. There might still be barncats asleep, but there were certainly some awake. Even as she chided herself for it her stomach swooped at the hope Sassafras or Buck fell into the latter category, her voice lifting on its feathery wings. "Anyone want to stretch their legs? I'm going for a hunt outside the barn."

 

[BUCK]

Buck strived to find enjoyment in every setting; clear, blue skies and sun was a bit boring to the thrill-seeking tom. He'd much rather stand in the pouring rain, searching for flashes of lightning and admiring nature's show than laze outside under the heat. The snow was pretty in its own right, especially waking up to freshly fallen white powder after a heavy storm the night before. Still, the cold and frigid temperatures grew tiring after a while. Buck would gladly embrace the warmth of newleaf after leafbare had overstayed its welcome.

The chocolate tabby tom was awake, of course. Being early to rise meant that he could make the most out of his time while some barn cats preferred to snooze the hours away, fat off of mice and the occasional kittypet treat. When a familiar voice attempts to call together an impromptu hunting outing, Buck is one of the first to offer himself up. "Sure, why not? It's a beautiful day... plenty of beautiful sights." Effortlessly, he dons a charming smile as he not-so-subtly makes honeyed remarks toward Aurora. The molly does not make grasshoppers hop in Buck's belly, not in the way that his presence ( unwittingly ) makes hers, but who would he be if he didn't sweet-talk the pretty faces around here?

Lean muscled limbs extend as Buck draws them into a quick stretch. "Plus, my legs could use some warmin' up after doin' nothin' all leafbare." Well, he wouldn't say nothing — Buck was arguably one of the antsiest cats in the barn, always itching to get out and seize the day even if it was cold, blustery, and snowing across the lands. Still, he certainly hadn't done much all winter besides wading through ice ( and digging tunnels for the hell of it ).

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒

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  — buck / 28 moons / he/him pronouns
  — loner / barncat
  — sh chocolate tabby w/ orange eyes, bite marks on left foreleg, nick in left ear & scratch on right side of lip
  — click for tags

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[goldy]

☆ Leafbare felt... so long, so unnecessarily, too. A yawn split from the jaws of the larger, pushing himself from where he had nested amongst rafter and hay. An ear twitched, shaking off a piece of dust, before hopping down to the main floor of the barn. A chuff was given towards other cats as he passed by, keeping to the edges to ensure safe passage away from any twolegs or hooves. He normally was up early, but with how nice the weather was, he decided to sleep in.

It wasn't surprising to see Buck up and around at least, and he supposes that Aurora was one of those early-birds too. He comes to a stop not far from the other two, before a slow and sly grin spread on his face. He could see the energy between the two, though maybe it was because he was well-versed in this kind of conversation, too. His fluffed tail twitched behind him, then swept low on the ground. "Room for a third on this little hunt, then?" He hummed, the grin on his face still good-natured, playful, even.

"Well, come one then." He says, bumping his shoulder against Buck's lightly as he strides past, heading for the outdoors with a good-natured step in his gait.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ GOD MONEYS NOT CONCERNED ABOUT ☆ THE SICK AMONG THE PURE

• "speech"
  

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• GOLDY he/him, mouser of the barn, thirty-five moons.
  ☆ A tall, long warm golden-brown tabby with aqua eyes. Often wearing a confident smile or chatting someone up.
  ☆ mentored by who / mentoring no one
  ☆ older sibling to merry
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[BRANDY]

☀

brandy, who had been lazily watching from the rafter opposite from where goldy had been moments ago, suddenly perks when aurora's voice flits into the open space of the barn asking about going outside for hunting. "hold on—!" she chirps out, voice a tad too loud for the early hours but she doesn't seem to care all that much.

she leaps down onto a nearby haybale with a slight oomph! after an awkward landing but shakes herself off and resumes her descent down until paws met the floor. "lemme come with ya'll!" brandy bounds after them, fluffy tail held up high behind her. with snow no longer covering the ground, she was certain she could catch something way more impressive than one of the little mice that scurry around the barn.

 

[COLD]

THE HIGHER I GET, THE LOWER I SINK,
I CAN'T DROWN MY DEMONS, THEY KNOW HOW TO SWIM​

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"I'm coming, too." called yet another voice from the depths of the barn, calm and confident. A moment later, Cold was getting to his paws and shaking out his smoky coat, ridding himself of a loose piece of straw that had been clinging to him in the process.

As he made his way over to join the group of cats lingering at the door, amber eyes shifted skyward to take in the clear skys and sunshine, lips pulling into a small smirk. 'Looks like we've finally got a decent day to work with. Hopefully the preys out enjoying it too."

The 'spring showers' were fine after a freezing, snowy winter when it meant they washed the slush and cold away, but the young tomcat couldn't say he was all that fond of getting wet everytime he stepped outside. Even when it was done raining, every inch of the damn territory was covered in water and droplets that were eager to cling and soak into the fur of a passing cat.

He'd gladly take a day like this over any of that.

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barn cat/future windclan- 7 months - male - an athletic, black smoke tabby with low white & yellow eyes​

 

[aurora -]

★ There was a stutter in her chest as cats spilled forth from the barn at her call, something that she tried to name relief at not having to hunt alone. Of course she was happy to see all who responded to the question: confident Goldy, excitable Brandy, determined Cold, easy-going Buck. Their chances of a successful hunt grew with each to offer their attendance, and Aurora was relieved that her time would be well spent in such good company, nothing more. After all, if focusing on the task at hand could distract her from the perfect blue overhead, surely it would distract her from the heat blooming on her cheeks at Buck's sweet words and Goldy's playful acknowledgement.

"Of course," she said warmly, an accepting welcome to each who asked to join, a furtherance of the lie she told herself. She gestured her tail and tilted her head for the younger Cold and Brandy to follow as she trailed after Goldy, crossing from the barn's shadow into the bright, warm, clear daylight beyond. Gold and blue eyes darted away from a charming smile to fix on the horizon, and task, beyond. There was an aching familiarity to see the farmlands removed of their white covering, discarded to reveal the budding greenery beneath. She hoped that Cold was right, and it would be all the better to hunt in. Aurora was half sick of mice and her own inaction. "I want to find a bird," the tabby mused, staunchly ignoring the fluttering against her ribs, "Or maybe a rabbit. Something to warm us up and get the most out of our numbers."

 

[DUSKHOUND]

Dusk does not emerge with the same eager energy as the others, nor does it answer Aurora's call immediately. Instead, it lingers in the barn's shadows, watching as cat after cat spills out into the brightening day. The clear sky is a sharp contrast to the dusty dimness within, and for a moment, Dusk hesitates, as if deciding whether it is worth stepping into the warmth at all. But then it moves. Dusk is silent as it falls into step with the others, its presence unobtrusive but unmistakable. It does not announce its participation the way the others do—no honeyed words like Buck, no playful charm like Goldy, no excitable bounds like Brandy. It simply joins, as though its inclusion was inevitable, a quiet force rather than an invited guest.

It listens as Aurora muses about birds and rabbits, her voice light with a determination that doesn't quite mask whatever flutters beneath it. Dusk's gaze, sharp and unreadable, flicks toward her, then over the others. Their numbers are strong, varied—some quick, some powerful, some merely eager. They have no excuse not to find one of each. "We should," Dusk says, voice low and steady, its first words since stepping forward. Its ears flick toward the open fields, toward the stretch of land now free from the white cage of leafbare. "With this many of us, there's no reason we can't take down both." Its tone is not ambitious, not hopeful. It states it as a fact, an expectation. A hunt of this size should not return with scraps. If they fail, it is not because the prey was absent—it is because they were not good enough.

Dusk moves ahead, pace unhurried but sure, stepping past the others to scan the horizon with keen eyes. It takes in the way the fields ripple under the gentle wind, the way the earth seems to breathe anew after the cold's retreat. There is no sentimentality in its observation—only assessment. The conditions are good. The sky is open, which means birds will be easier to spot. The fields are softer, which means rabbits will have begun to venture out again. It glances back at the group, eyes resting on each cat briefly, considering strengths, weaknesses. Buck's agility. Goldy's confidence. Aurora's focus. Brandy's enthusiasm. Cold's steadiness. And itself—a presence neither eager nor reluctant, but certain.