Hunting Patrol (Alderthorn)

[crewe]

Frostheart pads in the direction of the Shadepool, muzzle half-lifted, jaws half-open as she draws in the boggy scent of the marshes. The big white she-cat's fur puffs up against the leafbare chill, but the cold wind cuts through her thick pelt nevertheless, stronger for the lack of trees to break it. No time to dwell on it, she chides herself. Leafbare happens every year. You need to provide for your Clan. Her paws prickle with determination and she sweeps her eyes along the base of the bushes surrounding the pool. Her ears angle forward, searching for the sounds of prey scuffling around in the bushes.

Leafbare had been especially hard this year. The whole year in general had been hard, but leafbare, being difficult at even the best of times, had done no favors to the Clan in the marshes. The hunting rights ceded by RiverClan at Brokenstar's demands had helped, but Frostheart much preferred to hunt on their own land. In her opinion, ShadowClan should be able to stand on its own without the help of those river-paddlers. Of course, she would never question her leader, but when put in charge of a hunting patrol, or set out on her own, she stayed firmly within ShadowClan borders.

Glancing over her shoulders, the white warrior flicks her tail to summon her patrolmate, Alderthorn, to her side. "Circle around the other side of the pool," she hisses quietly. "There's not enough here for us to hunt in the same area, but we can probably find something if we spread out." Frostheart flicks her ear, hoping the older tom wouldn't argue. Of course he will, he's Alderthorn, she thinks ruefully. Even so, she thought it was a good idea; the frogs would mostly be hibernating, but if they spread out, they might find enough prey looking for water for each of them to bring home a catch.

[TANGO]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true] [atrb=style,width:320px,bTable] i see demons all around Alderthorn padded in silence behind the snowy warrior, his light brown pelt bristled out in a half-hearted attempt to fight the cold. His thin coat would never be enough to fight off the leafbare temperatures, a fact he regretted with each shiver that trembled his body. His pads treaded lightly against the cold ground, and his yellow-green eyes were narrowed in discontent. He despised hunting patrols, particularly during the winter, when stalking around the territory was not only cold but futile. Still, he supposed it could be worse. This was a small patrol, at least, and there were worse warriors to accompany him than Frostheart. At least it's not some chatty apprentice... he thought, his whiskers twitching with the distaste of the thought. Alderthorn was called out of his reverie by the sudden flick of Frostheart's tail. "Circle around the other side of the pool. There's not enough here for us to hunt in the same area, but we can probably find something if we spread out." The tom's long tail twitched at the words. I'm not so sure about that, he grumbled in response. His mouth opened to test the air, but he couldn't smell anything. He wasn't sure if there was no prey to smell or if the still air was just masking it, but he would bet on the former. Unless you feel like getting your paws wet, he added with sarcasm, eying the pool. There was a thin layer of ice on top of it, but he would bet it wasn't frozen all the way through. Their best hope for prey was probably whatever little fish were swimming in the Shadepool, although no ShadowClanner liked to dive for them. If he even attempted now, he would probably freeze his pelt off. Despite his protests, he began to look around for a different route to take. He slowed his pace, putting some distance between himself and the white warrior, before grumbling in a tone just loud enough to be heard, I don't know why we don't just hunt on RiverClan's territory. In truth, he knew exactly why they didn't—because no proud clancat wanted to mooch off another territory. But he knew Frostheart shared this same pride, and he could not resist the opportunity to prick at her emotions, especially considering that they would be much more successful hunting on another clan's territory. His irritation at the hunting patrol successfully channeled, Alderthorn began to pad off in a new direction, sniffing the air for prey. WORDS: 418 TAGS: frostheart. credit to ALPHA of BACK TO NEVERLAND

[crewe]

Frostheart puts her ears back, annoyed. She knew as well as he did that there was hardly any prey to be found, even here at one of ShadowClan's best hunting spots. If she knew it, and he knew it, why did he have to grumble about it? Just keep it to yourself and go find some prey, she mutters silently to herself. Why complain at all, when the Clan was relying on you to feed it? It just wasted energy. Energy that could be spent finding the prey, which if you're complaining about, will take plenty of energy to find. Frostheart snorts. It all seemed very reasonable to her. Either Alderthorn didn't get the obvious, or else he was being annoying just for the sake of it. Honestly, it was probably the latter.

Unless you feel like getting your paws wet. Frostheart bushes out her thick white fur, shivering at the thought. In this weather, getting wet would be dangerous. But if they found nothing around the edges of the pool... The Clan comes first, she tells herself firmly. "If it comes to that," she says out loud. The thought was not appealing in the least, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices. If the only prey was fish, then she would catch some fish. Hopefully, it won't come to that.

Frostheart inwardly sighs in relief as the older warrior turns to go, regardless of his grumblings. At least there wouldn't be a more serious disagreement. Too much noise, especially raised voices, would scare what little prey there may or may not be into hiding. Nevertheless, she lets out a soft hiss at his parting words, her fur bristling. RiverClan territory? They didn't need to hunt on RiverClan territory! ShadowClan could do without the prey of those oily paddlers. Forcing herself not to yell after him, the prey would hear, the prey would hear, Frostheart stiffly pads in the other direction.

When she's satisfied she's gotten far enough away from Alderthorn that they wouldn't end up chasing the same scrawny vole, Frostheart stops and crouches down, raising her muzzle to scent the air. The cold was dulling her senses; what a pain. But the prey wouldn't be looking to making it easier on her because the weather was bad; on the contrary, they'd be holed up against the cold. Well, no use waiting around. Frostheart slinks around the shore of the pool, searching for any signs of prey.

[TANGO]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,10,true] [atrb=style,width:320px,bTable] i see demons all around The dusty tom's whiskers twitched in thought as he padded away from the white warrior. If it comes to that, she had said, as if she had been reluctant but willing to dive into the deep, cold pool in search of prey. Alderthorn had made the suggestion sarcastically, with the idea of provoking Frostheart. Most ShadowClanners would have fallen for the bait, he thought, and snapped that there was no way in StarClan they were going to get their paws frozen off by the Shadepool for a measly fish. Alderthorn wasn't even completely sure that there would be any fish swimming in the murky depths. The fact that Frostheart would rather risk the pool than take the easy way out and hunt on RiverClan's territory was fascinating to him. He was feeling, he had to admit it, a bit of respect for her. And that was not an emotion he typically felt. The rumble in his stomach, however, helped to push any charitable thoughts toward his clanmate out of his mind. If he didn't start paying attention, he would never catch enough prey to feed the elders and the queens, much less himself. His footsteps turned lighter and hre opened his mouth to scent the air as he moved through the marshy ground. A harsh breeze picked at his pelt, and he wanted to hiss in frustration. He hated leafbare. It shouldn't be a struggle just to find once living prey. As if in an answer to his pseudo-prayer, the scent of a mouse hit him. His eyes scanned the area, his ears pricked for the sound of scuttling feet. He heard it. He turned slightly to the left, his eyes pinned on a suspiciously wavering patch of dead grass. He stalked quickly toward the animal and leapt, a little too enthusiastically. He missed the animal, which fleed from his flying paws. Mouse dung! he cursed silently, certain that his boisterous movements had scare away any nearby prey. As he trudged away from the pawprints he had left on the ground, he wondered briefly if Frostheart was having any luck... WORDS: 418 TAGS: frostheart. credit to ALPHA of BACK TO NEVERLAND