Open Territory DRIP DROP ✦ WEATHERING... THE WEATHER

[MIREPURR]

Mirepurr prides themself on their sensitive nose; they might not possess the same amount of battle prowess as the majority of their more vicious Clanmates, but at least they can keep their bellies fed when they successfully track down something plump. Even now, with the rain pouring and the winds blowing, they can just pick up the scent of a dove over petrichor and mud. The conditions are not comfortable... but ShadowClan is not yet in position for kicking back and relaxing. Work must be done even when the circumstances are far from ideal.

So, Mirepurr stalks between the marshy undergrowth. They creep past thorns that threaten to snag in their fur — their pelt's plushness protects them from the worst of it anyway. No reason to fuss and thus give away their nicely-veiled position.

The winds change course, and with it, the shape of the frost-bitten land shifts. A large bit of false nettle that has been steadily gathering rainwater on its surface flips over, its wet contents spilling straight onto Mirepurr's neck.

"Stars,"

they gasp,

"that's cold."

No amount of winter coat can save them from the worst of it. The sudden shower is- well, it is not refreshing, considering that it catches them entirely off-guard and now allows the wind to remind Mirepurr of just how frigid it is.

Their paws squelch in the mud as they propel themself forward. No use; the dove must have heard their surprise and fled, but surely not without internally mocking Mirepurr for their misfortune.

"And that's gone..."

 

[BONESTALKER]

The sudden turn of the weather is less than ideal for her. Given her slimmer visage and thinner coat being in such a sudden deluge is much more uncomfortable. The cold feels like it is seeping into her bones and she honestly hopes that she does not catch her death out here. If she has to be honest she has long since tired of death following her paws. From the mountains and even more so down here. But she does what she must to survive. Perhaps that is why she is good at fighting, striving to make sure that she does. Her thoughts wander as a shiver strikes her white stripped form before the sudden rush of water snaps her amber orbs towards Mirepurr. Water slips through their fur, much more than what can be stopped and with that distraction alone the prey that was followed is able to get away. A rough sigh leaves her and chattering teeth snap closed. At the moment with this wind she would rather be in camp and in her nest. Not fooling around out here for the small meager hope of something to eat. "There will be a next time." She insists as she turns away from them, gleaming gaze narrowing against the rain.

"We should head b-back.." Her paws feel too numb to keep going. At least at the moment and if she can warm up a little then she can come back out. If the rain has stopped by then. Honestly she has no real wish to keep stomping around in the mud and algae right now.

 

[Smogmaw.]

Brooding clouds and stiff winds assault the skies from all sides, with a bombardment of raindrops laying siege to the marshlands in their wake. Bitter air steams from every breath Smogmaw exerts. Hunting here, in a land he's still yet to become properly acquainted with, proves fruitless enough in ideal weather conditions. In a deluge such as this, the pursuit of prey becomes near-comical. He can scarcely see his own patrol-mates through the watery sheets slanting the horizon, and so, shuddering through the damp chill that's settled between his shoulders, the tabby resigns himself to an early end on his prowl.

At the moment, Bonestalker is already well-ahead of him in her conclusion. They could squander hours like this, groping desperately through the shrubbery, and not emerge with so much as a scent. The same sentiment lingers in Mirepurr's casual musings, too, prompting Smogmaw to stutter past his next gusting inhale. "Little good it does us t'wait it out here," he murmurs gruffly, swiping at a waterlogged eye with the back of a paw. "Best get moving while we can still feel our legs."

Already, the feeling in both his front paws have dulled into deadness, having spent most of the hunt trudging across icy-cold, ankle-deep marshwater. He veers suddenly about his haunches. Squared shoulders act as a crude shelter, bearing the worst of the oncoming rain's battering without complaint. Verbal complaint, mind. His joints groan out in their own protests, fearing the trek home through the dour weather. Behind, Smogmaw motions a muzzle-tilt to urge the others along.

 

[Marbleshine]

MARBLE OF SHADOWCLAN

Shivering against the biting cold, Marbleshine trudged after the group, fluffing up her fur in a futile attempt to keep warm. Her nose wrinkled as she exhaled, the chill nipping at her breath. They were lucky to have Mirepurr with them, she knew their tracking skills were exceptional... But Stars above, it was freezing. A part of her longed to turn back, to return to the warmth of camp and keep an eye on the nursery den. But she knew her duty stretched beyond that. The Clan needed food, and that meant she had to contribute.

A sudden splash... Then a gasp. The thick squelch of mud. Marbleshine blinked as Mirepurr informed them that their prey had slipped away. " T-that's okay. " she stammered through a shiver. " We can find another, right? " Her voice held a note of forced optimism, though her eyes flickered toward Bonestalker, nodding in agreement with their words. There would be a next time. There always would be. As Smogmaw voiced his agreement to call the hunt off early, Marbleshine sighed, torn between disappointment and relief. It was a shame, but what else could they do?

" Then... then we head home? " she asked, hopeful eyes darting between her patrolmates, silently wishing for the warmth of camp.

GO ON AND TRY TO TEAR ME DOWN ——･ﾟ✦​

･ﾟ✦ —— I WILL BE RISING FROM THE GROUND