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all you have is your
This was already shaping up to be a poor hunt, he'd missed a mouse due to an over-eagerness to watch the river instead. He'd never been very fond of hunting on land, it was once a necessity but it felt wasteful to not always have eyes on the water for something to dart by, for the surface to ripple with presence of prey. This wasn't really the time to be picky with where he looked and he sighed as he turned inland once more to forget the idea of fishing and see if maybe he could uproot that mouse from wherever it darted to. As dark paws carried him up the bank he used the river stones to keep him from slipping on water slick earth, hopping occasionally as they got further apart until there were nearly none left but the one before him - wide and flat and the edges turned upward enough there was a distinct gap between it and the flat of the ground.FIRE
─〃Everything else paused as he turned to the large flat stone, it was further up the bank from the water but still close enough it would have caught the current during high water and runoff from the rain; which meant this rock was certainly damp underneath. It was the damp spots that got the most attention, especially in the chilling seasons where resting water froze over but the sinking kind didn't. A paw raised and with a flick of his wrist he unearthed the world beneath it and sat down, tail curling at his hip. Smokewreath's head tilted, leaning down to watch the insects scatter the moment their sanctuary was defaced, the usual fair: a few pill bugs, a centipede rapidly skittering into the dry grass nearby, the flutter of something winged taking to the air before he could fully register what it was. His ears pinned back and a claw was unsheathed, extending out to flick a beetle enough to make it move and it began to idly crawl along the underside of the stone left discarded next to the patch of exposed soil.
He'd always liked them, most all insects really, a few exceptions existed - he could do without maggots (a reminder of the slow decay of life and spoiling freshkill) and fleas and mosquitos (both shared the equally disdainful existence of biting him and offering no other benefits to life as a whole), but his favorite was always beetles. Just beetles, they had a lot of different shapes and colors, varying levels of iridescence, but he liked the the fold and flutter wings that seemed to burst from their backs, hidden under a shell that didn't break off entirely but only loosened; to have that kind of armor felt like a boon, to be able to fly was even moreso.
Smokewreath had not named any of his kits Beetle simply because it was his favorite insect and he'd have to choose one of them to 'have the favored name' - at the time it made more sense to pick others he liked. Buzzing bees, chirping crickets, shrieking cicada, other bugs... He sure did pick the loud ones without realizing it hadn't he?
Well. It suited them.
Ooc- When that bug special interest autism kicks in.
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─ & the place you need to reach.
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Smokewreath
— RiverClan Warrior
— He/Him
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
— Solid black tom w/vitiligo and one orange eye.
#ff7d46