Open Event got me foaming at the knees - hunting [from bulldozer camp]

[CLAYSPOTS CLAYSPOTS]

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She was stubbornly sure that her clanmates were just scattered after the floods. She refused to believe a mere flood would take out her sister and mother, as great as that might be. Not to mention, there was certainly no way that the only remaining cats around were her, Dimming, and Merry plus some apprentices. She refused to be the molly that would have to repopulate Windclan, especially with toms. Not that there was really anything wrong with Dimming and Merry... they just weren't quite what she looked for in a partner. She turned up her nose at the thought of her having to birth the next generation of Windclan from next to that yellow monster, a prickle shooting through her pelt.

The mud coating her unders was still sopping wet, she probably looked like some sort of moor monster stalking on the plains. She probably looked disgusting, making a mental note to take a few moments to herself once she returned with some fresh kill for those who awaited her. She had to wonder if the apprentices were scared, she knew she would have been terrified being away from her mother during something like this... how time changes things. She chuckled to herself, knowing she would claw out of that murky tunnel in a frenzy to escape her mother or sister.

She could feel how heavy her pawsteps were with this mud, afraid she would scare off any prey before she even had the chance to spot it. Sure, she had some experience hunting, but not as much as her mother or sister. She had practically volunteered for a tunneler apprenticeship when she learned her sister wanted to be a moor runner, desperate to escape and not be constantly compared to her. It did backfire in some ways, of course. Now she could just feel her mother's bile directed at her when she spoke of disappointments in the family. She cursed to herself under her breath, tasting the air.

Wait... was that..?

She tasted again. It wasn't prey, it was the distinct scent of her clan --- the scent of Windclan. Of course, it was mixed with the distinct scent of mildew, wetness, the clawing waters that had soaked their pelts. She wondered how Riverclan seemed to pride themselves traversing such disgusting murk, the smell seemed to cling to your very bones, as did the chill. She straightened up a bit, looking around. She didn't see anyone, but she smelt them, more than one? She couldn't be sure,

"Is anybody out there?" She shouted, hoping her voice carried far enough to alert whoever may be nearby. "It's Clayspots!" She yelled out again, as if they didn't recognize her voice --- she would be offended if that were the case. She decided to stay put briefly, and if no hair of her clanmates came her way... she would return to hunting.

LOVE DOES NOT COST MONEY 𐃢 BUT IT AIN'T FREE

• ooc
  —— making contact with another temp camp! Open to whomever
• 
  
  
  we really ought to wander

  away

  ​
• CLAYSPOTS she/her
  ♡ an oddly patterned calico molly whose pelt resembles raw clay, has piercing brown eyes
  ♡ tunneler of windclan
  ♡ 40 moons; ages on the 19th of every month
  ♡ speech thought attack
  ♡ peaceful & healing powerplay allowed

 

[Weaselchirp Weaselchirp]

I'm a young soul in this very strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit 'bout what is true and fake
But why all this hate? Try to communicate
Finding trust and love is not always easy to make

.

Large ears twitched as Weaselchirp lifted her head, orange hues snapping wide as she peered into the distance. A voice, faint but there, calling out through the wet hush of the ruined moor. Someone alive. Someone calling. " Oh! " she gasped, tail twitching sharply. Right, she had made a promise. A promise to look, to ask, to find the missing. Honeyflower was alone, the little ones were scattered, and no medicine cat in sight. If sickness came now, it would spread like damp moss…

The black she-cat dropped the hare she'd caught with a soft thud and raised her head high, ears pricked toward the sound. " Clayspots! Yes, Clayspots, here, here! We are here! Come closer, come here!! " Her voice rang out bright and unhesitant over the wind. She snatched the hare back up in her jaws and bounded forward through the mud, paws sending up sprays of water with every step. Her heart fluttered in her chest, relief, excitement, disbelief. One more cat found. One more life pulled from the flood's greedy paws.

First the fire, now the water… she thought wryly. All that was left was for the earth to crack and the wind to toss them off the moor entirely.

Mouth still full of hare, she tried to speak again, a garbled, breathless series of mumbles and chirps that made absolutely no sense at all. But her eyes were bright, tail waving, and the joy in her expression said everything she couldn't through the mouthful of fur.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

69 MOONS

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WINDCLANNER

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SONG

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