an evening hunt || open

hey young blood

doesn't it feel like our time is running out?

warm juices will his mouth as he took the first bite from the body of the vole, enjoying the sight of its entrails that were now more than a little exposed. chewing ravenously, his stomach growled louder than it had before he had even tasted the kill, and he was about to finish off his prey when the sound of undergrowth rustling alerted him to the presence of another creature. cursing himself for not scenting the cat sooner, he hastily swallowed his bite and turned his attention to the cat approaching him and shame and guilt flooded his gut and made his ears grow hot. he had no doubts that this looked bad – he was breaking one of the codes most prominent rules, a warrior must not eat before elders, queens and kits have been fed. but surely they had all taken their share from the fresh-kill pile earlier that day? it would be odd for them to go a full day without eating. birchfrost was more than capable of doing so, his body was conditioned as such. but nonetheless, the tom knew that he was in the wrong and he would not be able to get away with his poor choice. whiskers twitching ever so slightly, he dipped his black and white head in greeting to the older warrior.

“I’m pleased you think so as well.” the tom showed no signs of being pleased at all, and he remained guarded, waiting for the chastisement to come. but birchfrost was thrown slightly at the greeting, that showed no signs of annoyance, or even the faintest hint of disappointment. surely whitewater would take the opportunity of humiliating him? many other warriors would if they found him in a compromised situation, but birchfrost was unsure of where the conversation was going with the white warrior. though white might not have been the proper descriptor for him at the moment; the sodden ground had all but succeeded in turning the white warrior into something almost unrecognizable. gone was his clean, white immaculate pelt, and in all honesty, birchfrost was quite amused. whitewater had always been such a confident warrior, carrying himself with an air of pride but never arrogance, and it was humbling to see him looking so terrible. then again, birchfrost thought quickly, glancing down self-consciously at his own pelt, he probably didn’t look much better. “amusing.” he said with a small twitch of his tail. “that riverclan warriors would be complaining about a little bit of rain.” he found himself straightening up a little as he decided that he wasn’t going to get an earful.

“would you like to hunt together?” the bicoloured tom inquired, subconsciously scraping damp earth over the remains of his vole.

just atlanta. 

hey young blood

doesn't it feel like our time is running out?

the longer the two of them stood there in civil conversation, the more tense birchfrost had become. whitewater seemed to be more than okay with the fact that he had caught the younger warrior eating on a hunting patrol, and that rubbed the white and black tom the wrong way. whitewater was one of the most respected warriors in the clan, and to have him not chastise made him wonder if the large white warrior had even seen him take a quick meal. there was always that possibility, but the scent of vole hung in the air heavily, the innards giving off their own strong scent of blood. maybe, just maybe the tom would actually get away with this. the guilt he felt, however, would stay with him until he gave up a few meals here and there and completely dedicated himself to bringing back a large array of prey to add to the pile.

“yes, quite the difference indeed.” birchfrost agreed softly, glancing over his shoulder towards the darkening sky. he figured they had a fair amount of time to hunt properly – hopefully without any interruptions from mother nature – but that they would need to make haste. offering the tom a forced smile as he turned his head back, it was quickly dissipated as he noticed the warriors gaze land on the hastily buried vole. his eyes flashed for a moment, and he rose to his paws, purposely stepping on the spot where the vole would find its final resting place. flicking his tail, the tom was about to turn and be on his way when whitewater spoke. a wave of guilt stronger than ever washed over his face and he winced slightly. he was a fool to think that whitewater wouldn’t have noticed. what was even worse though was the tone in which he had brought it up. birchfrost almost wished that the older warrior would’ve cuffed him on the ears and called him mouse-brained. the friendly tone was too much for the tom to handle. it suggested friendship, and that was something the younger warrior was not well versed in.

“the vole was stringy anyways.” he muttered, shuffling his paws, discomfort clearly shown in his body and its language. glancing sheepishly up at the warrior, he waited for more to come, but when he was simply told to lead on, birchfrost got his feelings in check, and became the blank slate once again. “right, we will have to go from this area.” birchfrost said thoughtfully, more to himself than the other warrior. there was no doubt that the prey that had been in the area was long gone now, the voices of the two warriors would’ve have alerted them to the presence of predators in the area. turning his body away from whitewater, he stood stark still and opened his mouth once more to scent prey. unfortunately, the only scent that he got was that of the vole he had just ate. casting a sideways glance at whitewater, birchfrost motioned with his tail for the other warrior to follow him. just because he couldn’t smell anything over the taste in his mouth, didn’t mean that whitewater needed to know that. “I heard song birds here not too long ago, a nice finch would make a treat for the elders.” birchfrost offered, with a flick of his ears in the direction where he had heard their calls. birchfrost had never been particularly good at hunting birds, but maybe, just maybe, whitewater was adept at it.

just atlanta. 

hey young blood

doesn't it feel like our time is running out?

with a glance over his shoulder to make sure whitewater was following him, birchfrost caught the sound of words spoken, but was unable to decipher them. a tingle in his paws made his muscles tense beneath his black and white pelt, and he suddenly began to feel incredibly uncomfortable in the presence of the older warrior. had whitewater mumbled something about him that became a voice instead of just silent thoughts? the tip of his tail flicked as a shiver raked over his spine. no, whitewater wasn’t the kind of cat to say something under his breath. if it was important, surely he would’ve said it out loud . . . right? giving his head a shake to clear away the dark thoughts, his ears swiveled to meet the song that pierced the evening air. catching sight of it’s plumage, birchfrost was about to drop down into a crouch to stalk closer just as the white warrior let his pelt brush against his own. tensing his muscles at the friendly touch, birchfrost let his gaze follow the warrior, keeping a keen eye trained on what the warrior did.

hunting birds was not something that riverclan did often, but watching whitewater made it look like he was born to do it. the careful placement of his feet and fluid movements made him move as silent and as deadly as snow, waiting to grip the landscape. he looked almost alien, a stark contrast to the trees bark, and the storm darkened sky, though he appeared to be at ease as he wound his body around the tree. birchfrost dropped down low, as the finch turned in his direction, cursing himself for making his presence so blatantly obvious, while whitewater had been particularly cautious. fixing his attentive gaze on the finch, his body lurched forward as it sighted the white tom ready to intervene and take it down if it were to take flight. however, whitewater’s clean – if not somewhat clumsy – kill made him relax once more. sitting up, the tom flicked his whiskers with pleasure that he had been successful in his hunt.

“may not be your preferred style, but you did exceedingly well.” birchfrost mused, feeling a pang of jealously. birchfrost had only ever excelled at fishing, which was not the least bit extraordinary, as it did not generally catch anything other than fish. now, if he could also bring down a bird, then the clan would be fed well with something other than the water dwelling creatures. “now, it is my turn.” with a dip of his head at the other warrior, birchfrost took a few steps to his right, and parted his jaws. the taste of vole lingered, but the strength of the flavour was quickly diminishing, making the air easier to scent. the creatures of flight were him in the trees, and the thought of climbing them made his heart race. taking a deep breath, he made his way over to a young sapling, stepping as lightly as possible, which was not hard for the lithe brute. an eerie silence gripped the territory, and for a fleeting moment, birchfrost was worried that whitewater’s hunt had scared off any chances of him catching his own contribution. shooting a glance over his shoulder at the other warrior, birchfrost lowered himself into a hunters crouch, concentrating hard on keeping his tail from flicking and betraying his nerves.

birchfrost was not used to the feeling of nervousness, especially not while in the presence of one of riverclan’s own. however, after whitewater’s seemingly flawless kill, birchfrost began to feel a prickle of doubt in the back of his mind. would whitewater report him back to duckstar if he did not bring back and fresh-kill to make up for the one he had already eaten? he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that kind of repercussion, regardless of whether it was deserved or not. trying desperately to push that thought from his mind, he caught sight of a crow dancing among the reeds. crows were not usually seen in the territory, unless by the river to clean up any two-leg rubbish, but he wasn’t against eating one. it was a decent sized beast, easily half his size. if he could take it down, then whitewater would have to forgive him for eating before the clan. with a wiggle of his narrow haunches, the warrior crept forward, flanking the black bird on the left. it’s jerky movements unnerved birchfrost; it could take off at any moment, and then all hope would be lost. letting out a shaky breath, birchfrost placed his left paw down and heard a loud snap! instantly, the crow let out a cry of alarm and shot up into the sky, cawing the entire time.

“mouse dung!” spitting with anger, and shame, the tom walked back to whitewater with his tail drooped. “that was an apprentice mistake, I should have known the stick was there.”

just atlanta. 

hey young blood

doesn't it feel like our time is running out?

though the white tom meant for it to be comforting, birchfrost felt as little as a kit. subconsciously cringing against the action, he flicked his tail and his expression darkened. how was he supposed to be a good warrior if he couldn’t even hunt properly? he had prided himself on being a logical and careful hunter, taking extra care to not make any noise, to be mindful of where his paws fell but whitewater had done nothing to help him. his botched hunt had turned the area eerily silent, and birchfrost felt an overwhelming urge to cry out in dismay. with a sigh, he brought his gaze back to whitewater, and flinched at the fact that the white warrior had to lower himself to speak with him levelly. it was insult to injury, and birchfrost quietly and swiftly shut down the shame he felt.

“I assure you, you don’t make me nervous.” the words rolled off his tongue, setting the white and black warrior on the defensive. how was it that he could read his emotions with so little effort? birchfrost had prided himself on keeping his mind and face clear around his clanmates, but whitewater didn’t seem to be fazed by birchfrost’s isolated nature. he was half tempted to turn his gaze away, to not hold the toms’ own wise one, but he would not accept defeat that easily. white fur bristled along his neck, and his tail lashed with annoyance as the tom spoke once more, voicing the exact feelings that squirmed around within his belly. the sigh that escaped whitewater’s muzzle made the younger tom back away a step. “I’m not worried about what you think of me, whitewater.” blinking, his gaze turned hard. “I hunt meticulously, with precision. I do not fail, I made a mistake, as anyone can.” keeping his voice monotone, so that he did not betray his pounding heart and the hot flash of heat that scorched his ears, birchfrost turned away from whitewater, dismissing the idea of hunting by himself all together. he would not give in, he would continue to hunt with the older warrior, and he would be successful this time.

“I do not wish to hunt alone. I do enough on my own, the companionship of a fellow clanmate is not unwelcome.” feeling awkward, the tom’s intelligent head turned to look at whitewater, an attempt at a smile appearing far more like a grimace. he was out of practice in the art of conversation, he was sure that the younger cats in the clan had more than likely never even heard his voice before. whiskers flicking slightly, he gestured with his tail for the warrior to walk beside him. “where shall we go next?”

just atlanta. | sorry for the wait, love!