{$title} Chat. Meet Nettlefrost. Struggle.
He/Him
23 Moons
ShadowClan Warrior & Thief
PENNED BY Sheogorath
Cold. Hungry. Bitter. The season seemed unending. The world for the blinded tom was nothing but an endless expanse of frigid air and the shadow of overcast skies. No shapes. Just the blur of winter which now shrouded the rainswept land.
Hours he had spent hunting. Hours in the cold mud. Hours of his nose freezing shut any time he tried to smell. For hours. For days. And he had found nothing. Not a mouse. Not a crow. A thorn in his paw, but that hardly counted. The Warrior's face was set like grim stone as he shivered in the clearing of ShadowClan's camp, fur fluffed out in any attempt for some manner of warmth.
This would not do. His paws were numb. His stomach aching. And so, once again, the warrior made his way out of ShadowClan's camp. This time though, he wasn't alone. A few others accompanied him on this small hunting patrol, those just as hungry and just as restless as he. Despite his blindness, Nettlefrost moved through the territory with the ease of a practiced hunter. Every tree. Every bush. Every pool of water. He'd memorized it. But that didn't mean his path was entirely without obstacle.
The rain and wind had knocked a heavy branch free of the trees above. He doesn't know how long it's been resting in the mud, but he soon realizes it's presence when he stumbles over the damn thing. A grunt fills the air. A huff of annoyance. And then he moves on.
"Spread out. There has to be something here. Stay close enough to hear each other, though. Just in case." The Warrior mews to the rest of the group. "And try not to freeze to death." Nettlefrost adds grumpily.
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