Open Prompt Event Border ShadowClan leftovers from the breeze // Hunger Games Patrol

[Grayflight]

{$title} This patrol takes place across the Thunderpath near the border with WindClan

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Grayflight watched as, one by one, the members of his patrol darted across the Thunderpath. His long fur ruffled in the wind that carried down from WindClan's territory, and the thief found that he couldn't scent much on the wind. Was he being set up to fail his first led patrol? Or was he merely a victim of the unfortunate circumstance that his Clan found themselves in - facing a sparse leaf-fall that could only turn into an even more dire leafbare. He shook the thought from his mind. Wolfpack had seemed agitated at the situation - this wasn't some personal attack.

Shit happens.

As the last cat crossed the Thunderpath, Grayflight raised his voice above his usual quiet timbre.

"Alright. You remember Wolfpack's words. We catch only along the border - we don't cross it. Everything we catch goes back to the Clan. I'll make a full report to Wolfpack and Sablestar on anyone found to be breaking the guidelines." He hated sounding so... bossy. Like he didn't care his patrolmates were likely hunting on bellies emptier than they were used to. And he hated the thought of having to get a Clanmate in trouble. But then he thought of those new lives in the nursery, and the injured in Cicadabuzz's care, and he had to steel his heart a bit. What good was living in a Clan if they didn't care for the most vulnerable first? If Timberfrost's patrol was lucky, perhaps the prey they caught tonight would make for a meal for the warriors who'd worked for it.

"We meet back here before dawn," he mewed, looking up at the night sky above them. "It'll be easier to cross before the monsters rouse." Wirh a flick of his tail, he dismissed the patrol and set off closer to the border, scenting the air in hope of prey.

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OOC

Guidelines for the event patrol are here! Remember, you need a 10 in order to catch some prey!

BIO

ShadowClan Thief
59 moons || he/him
SPEECH || THOUGHTS

 

[CROWPAW.'s icon CROWPAW. CROWPAW.]

CROWPAW ──

shadowclan | apprentice​

Crowpaw trails a few tail-lengths behind the rest of the patrol, admittedly feeling a bit like an outcast amongst the group of cats more familiar with each other than they are with her. She wanted to make herself useful, however, because the last thing she wanted was for everycat to think she's nothing but another mouth to feed. She'll have to earn her place here, lest she's cast out to find yet another new place to call home.

They had heard that prey was running quite scarce in the pocosins that made up ShadowClan's territory, as if it had all disappeared overnight. Hunting had been something they were good at back when their 'ma was alive - she'd taught them well, and they had gone on several successful mousing trips over the course of their moons there. Now those skills seemed more needed than ever, which had led them to follow along with the patrol at the WindClan border...

Crowpaw skitters across the Thunderpath after the other cats, glancing frantically back and forth until he safely reaches the other side. His smaller-than-average body tries to look tall as he sits upright to listen to Grayflight speak, flicking his ear as indicator he's paying attention. When the patrol is dismissed, silver eyes briefly sweep over the other cats before he slinks away, hoping he'll find something to show for himself upon his return.
He parts his lips as he inhales deeply, trying to catch the scent of anything that might be nearby. His breath appears in the air with every exhale, the darkness of nighttime bringing the sharp chill of impending leaf-bare that already threatens to seep through his skin to his bones. Luckily, the darkness pairs well with his pitch-black fur; it should help him take cover in stalking any potential prey.

Her pupils grow larger as she catches the scent of muskrat nearby, crouching down and approaching with silent footfalls across the frosted ground. Unfortunately, she's so focused on approaching the damned thing that she doesn't even notice the branch she steps on, a sudden *crack* sending it running. "No-!!" Leaping after it, she tries to chase it down, scrambling to catch up, but she lands wrong and falls to the ground, twisting her forepaw in the process.

"Ow..." Crowpaw curses under their breath, wincing as they rise back on their paws. It's fine... I'll walk it off. They look over their shoulder with flattened ears, hoping the rest of the patrol was far enough away not to have seen such an incredibly mouse-brained failure.

blow a kiss at the methane skies

see the rust through your playground eyes

• ooc: d10 ⮞ 1 (critical failure)
• "speaking" | thinking | action