Fact: WindClanners were not the only creatures who made use of the tunnels below the moor. Another fact: among tunnelers' responsibilities were the exploration of mysterious tunnels, to ensure their safety, evaluate their potential utility for the Clan, map the vast network of tunnels in one's mind, and the like. End result: sometimes, you found strange things in the tunnels. Today was to be Wrenwhisker's lucky day, it seemed, for what had begun as a routine disappearance belowground had turned into quite an intriguing discovery. She had intended to check in on a passage she found somewhat suspicious, as she didn't quite like the look of one of its curves and visions of cave-ins danced in her head when things were still. After reassuring herself that it would remain stable, she'd begun to amble back vaguely in the direction of camp - but had instead stumbled upon a tiny, neglected-looking passageway. It had an old, dried-up scent to it she could not quite place, and after deliberating for a few moments, she shrugged and stepped in.
It was a tight fit, even for her narrow body, and muttered curses escaped her as she squeezed past jutting stones and clods of earth, scraggly tail lashing. After several long minutes of half-walking, half-wriggling, she became aware that there was light beginning to bloom in front of her. A wisp of fresh air reached her nostrils and she inhaled greedily. This must be accessible from a burrow up above. That was fine by her, since it meant she wouldn't have to go back the way she had already come. Backwards tunneling was among her least favorite parts of the job, as not all passages offered enough room to turn around. As she neared the end of the tunnel, she became aware of a pale blur against the dark soil, just barely visible in the slowly-growing light. Wrenwhisker's eyes narrowed and she slowed as she approached, becoming aware that the tunnel was widening as it began to gradually slope upward. Her brows quirked and she gave a small huff of surprise at what she beheld at the very bottom of the tunnel: an immense heap of bones.
"Wellllll, looky here." She mumbled, lowering her head to sniff at the bone pile. They were dry and devoid of meat or marrow, covered in dirt, and in staggering variety. Wrenwhisker fancied she could see everything from tiny little bird-bones to the thick leg-bones of hares. "Looks like I've found someone's hidey-place." the tunneler ran her tongue over her lips and snatched a bone from the heap, heading up and out the burrow-hole. She could tell at once she was far from where she had come - she was nearly to Highstones, in fact, and the burrow's opening was hidden among the particularly thick and knobbly roots of an oak tree. Wrenwhisker sat down and absent-mindedly nibbled some dirt from between her toes, waiting for a patrol or wandering hunter to pass by; the moment another cat was in sight, she'd give a grin and toss a dirty, dried-up bone at their paws. "You missin' some bones? I found someone's stash."
It was a tight fit, even for her narrow body, and muttered curses escaped her as she squeezed past jutting stones and clods of earth, scraggly tail lashing. After several long minutes of half-walking, half-wriggling, she became aware that there was light beginning to bloom in front of her. A wisp of fresh air reached her nostrils and she inhaled greedily. This must be accessible from a burrow up above. That was fine by her, since it meant she wouldn't have to go back the way she had already come. Backwards tunneling was among her least favorite parts of the job, as not all passages offered enough room to turn around. As she neared the end of the tunnel, she became aware of a pale blur against the dark soil, just barely visible in the slowly-growing light. Wrenwhisker's eyes narrowed and she slowed as she approached, becoming aware that the tunnel was widening as it began to gradually slope upward. Her brows quirked and she gave a small huff of surprise at what she beheld at the very bottom of the tunnel: an immense heap of bones.
"Wellllll, looky here." She mumbled, lowering her head to sniff at the bone pile. They were dry and devoid of meat or marrow, covered in dirt, and in staggering variety. Wrenwhisker fancied she could see everything from tiny little bird-bones to the thick leg-bones of hares. "Looks like I've found someone's hidey-place." the tunneler ran her tongue over her lips and snatched a bone from the heap, heading up and out the burrow-hole. She could tell at once she was far from where she had come - she was nearly to Highstones, in fact, and the burrow's opening was hidden among the particularly thick and knobbly roots of an oak tree. Wrenwhisker sat down and absent-mindedly nibbled some dirt from between her toes, waiting for a patrol or wandering hunter to pass by; the moment another cat was in sight, she'd give a grin and toss a dirty, dried-up bone at their paws. "You missin' some bones? I found someone's stash."
