(QUICK TW: Mentions of rotting flesh, illness, vomiting, and starvation! Please read the OOC tab at the bottom.)
The smell of rot is thick on the wind. Almost suffocating. Any other season, and Nettlefrost would have avoided such decay. Or, perhaps buried it deep within the earth. But it was leafbare, and a hard one at that. He was hungry. His ribs poked out of his fur. He appeared skeletal, more bone than flesh. And he was no outlier, either. All of ShadowClan was struggling. They were hungry. Desperate. And desperation made for foolish decisions.
Nettlefrost chooses to follow the scent.
What he finds is a deer, half eaten by ravenous coyotes, though they were long gone. On the fringes of ShadowClan's territory, it must have died hours ago. Perhaps even days. Regardless, the smell was wrong. This wasn't fresh meat. It was foul. Perhaps sickness or infection had taken the beast, but Nettlefrost doesn't care. Doesn't turn his nose up to it. He doesn't even bother speaking to the rest of his patrol before he buries his teeth into the flesh and begins to eat.
He doesn't last long. Within minutes, there's a stirring within his belly. An uncomfortable feeling that turns to pain. While the rest of the patrol examined, ate, or discussed what to do, Nettlefrost had already turned away, moving to sit among the low trees, hunched over as pain began to blossom within his gut. Too late for regrets, Nettlefrost thinks bitterly to himself. But it seemed he had just traded one pain for another.
He wonders who else among his patrol would be desperate and hungry enough to risk such rotting meat. Hopefully, they wouldn't turn out struggling not to gag in a bush nearby, like he had.
OOC: roll a 1d20 IF your character decides to eat the crowfood! 15 or below means your character gets sick (you can decide how badly). Anything above a 15 and you do NOT get sick! I rolled a 1, so Nettlefrost is about to get very sick. RIP! You don't have to roll if your character chooses not to eat the rotten food.
CROWPAW | SHADOWCLAN "WHEN ALL THE HATE BURNS OFF, I'M LEFT HERE WITH THE PAIN"
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// tw for descriptions of rotting meat, starvation, and vomiting
Crowpaw, like the rest of their Clan, is starving, the dull and unforgiving ache of an empty stomach becoming a feeling they're used to having. They've almost forgotten what it's like to feel full, nothing but a vague memory of better times and better company. So, like Nettlefrost, when they smell the scent of meat, rotted or not, they gravitate towards it. They've eaten all kinds of things in their desperation - kittypet food, rats, half-molded chunks of meat - what's a rotting deer in the face of such struggle? Food. That's what it is.
Obviously, the deer carcass is too heavy to be brought back to camp, and that's to say nothing of the way that Nettlefrost is already hunched over after a few bites of it, clearly feeling sick to his stomach. This is obviously not something the elders or the kits should be eating. Crowpaw tries not to gag at the mere smell of the rot, but he still finds himself tentatively poking at the flesh with an extended claw. Surely there is something in here that's salvageable enough to eat… right? His stomach twists, though he's not sure if it's because he's hungry or because the smell threatens to make him spill what little he's already eaten. Nevertheless, he's come this far; slowly, disgustedly, Crowpaw takes a bite.
The taste is… indescribable. Crowpaw nearly spits it out as soon as it's in her mouth, but she forces herself to chew and swallow, not daring to take another bite after what she'd just experienced. She glances to Nettlefrost - then back at the deer - then down at her paws, feeling the short-lived satisfaction of having food in her stomach come to an abrupt end…
In mere moments, she rushes to hide her small body behind a nearby tree, retching and gagging, her tiny body shaking from the effort. Just like that, all her food, gone. The taste of rot replaced by that of her own stomach acid. When she's done, she walks shamefully back to the rest of the patrol, her tail-tip dragging a small line across the frosted ground. "Uh. I don't think… there's anything worth tryin' to salvage," she says weakly, her voice shaking slightly from her bout of sickness. // mentor tag @Belladonnadance
i rolled an 8 so crow got sickies. rip.
The harrowing lack of prey had made Echostep resort to food sources that she would never have considered before, as well as unconventional tactics for obtaining said food sources. The twolegplace and the junkyard have each opened up as potential sources of sustenance, and each offers its own strange, questionable food for bold thieves to try if they dare. The bland, dry chunks of housecat food are unappetizing yet very filling, and the assorted oddly-colored meats of the junkyard are a risk most cats are willing to take given how often the food ends up tasting delicious. This, however, doesn't seem as good a gamble. The deer appears to have been here for a while, and has certainly been preyed upon by other creatures before the patrol. Despite the clear signs, Nettlefrost doesn't hesitate to dig in. Food is food, after all, even if it isn't the most fresh.
Admittedly, the blue-pointed thief considers taking a bite of it themself, but they wait until Nettlefrost has half-gorged himself and Crowpaw has taken a slightly less confident bite before they make the decision whether to take a bite of their own. And when the former wanders off on his own, the latter following suit almost immediately after trying a bite, Echostep's own choice is clear. They roll their shoulders and turn bright green eyes back to their patrolmates. "I have a suggestion, if I may: don't risk eating it. No need to empty our stomachs further." They cast a pointed glance is directed toward Crowpaw, who still looks queasy when she rejoins their patrol, though they also take a moment to search for the familiar figure of Nettlefrost, who they find sitting a distance away. Likely trying to disguise how sick he feels—if just one bite had sent Crowpaw running for a place to empty his stomach, surely Nettlefrost is battling an entirely different gastrointestinal beast.
OOC —
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽♰☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
ECHOSTEP
THEY/SHE, SHADOWCLAN THIEF ✧ sleek-furred blue lynx point with a long tail & green eyes ✧ quiet and cunning, values authority over empathy ✧ npc x npc ; sibling to rainbowflare ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed ; hates being touched ✧ played by foxlore
Similar to Echostep, Bluegale has also found that desperation has lead him places he would have never previously imagined. He recalls the patrol that had tried to break into a rabbit hutch in the twolegplace, the numerous trips to the junkyard in search of anything edible, and now even kits seemed to be resorting to eating bugs back in camp. Of course, there's still a lingering sense of pride that he maintains. Bluegale would honestly rather starve than eat a bug, nor any assortment of grasses, leaves, or sticks. If his clanmates wanted to do that, it was their own choice. He could suspend judgment in these trying times.
Well, maybe except for carrion.
Except this carrion... Almost looks like the fresh piece of prey it once had been. He supposes that such a large animal might take longer than perhaps a squirrel or rat to decompose. The sour smell of rot is enough to tell him that. "Oh... That's gross," Bluegale says, mostly as if he is trying to convince himself instead of state plainly what he observes "But I wonder if some part of it might be salvageable...?". He barely notices the vomit and nauseated expressions of his clanmates until Echostep speaks up. Bluegale's venison fantasy swiftly dissolves.
"Nobody else eat from that," he orders hastily "Magpiepaw already has enough to worry about."
— ⋆˙⟡
⊹bluegale is a shadowclan night guard who is gregarious and loud. ⊹45 moons old, ages on the first day of each month. ⊹ currently mentoring ghostpaw, formerly mentored websight. ⊹ in battle, physically difficult and psychologically easy ⊹ his parents are swan x meister and he is siblings to halfshade and hollowmist. ⊹ penned by carat, see his tags here.
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