Braving The Cold {CLOSED}

Flintfang awoke hissing, a mound of snow falling from the roof of the warrior's den and landing on his head. Foxdung it's cold! Shaking out his pelt, the gray tabby warrior rose from his nest and padded outside the den. A heavy snow had fallen overnight, and coated the clearing in white. The rays of dawn lit the freezing powder a peachy color, striped by the shadows of the trees. Flintfang couldn't deny its beauty, but the freezing air that nipped at his nose seemed to annoy him more than anything. He needed to warm up somehow, but going back to sleep wasn't an option. His nest was now soaked with melted snow, and if he stayed in camp any longer, Marshstorm was bound to put him on patrol with some loud-mouthed warrior. Letting out a grunt of frustration, the tom stepped into the cold, snow up to his belly fur. He looked around for Beartooth, hoping to hunt with someone more than a stranger. But with no sight of the large tom, Flintfang made his way toward the entrance, deciding he'd go at it himself. A lithe brown tom sat on his own, blocking the exit. Flintfang realized with a roll of his eyes that he'd have to pass this warrior before he could hunt. He recognized the tom as Harefoot, about the same age as himself.

"Harefoot." Flintfang addressed the warrior. "Do you want go hunting? I was just leaving." He asked out of obligation, not out of want for company. Not asking would have seemed rude, suspicious, maybe. Not wanting to stand still any longer, with the snow nipping at his paws, Flintfang padded off into the forest, wondering if the brown warrior would follow.

Harefoot, fully regretting leaving the warm warriors' den, sat alone just in front of the camp exit. He was bound to leave soon, he just wanted to finish licking down his messy short fur that insisted on sticking straight up in defiance of the bitter wind. He sighed, and then noticed Flintfang approach before moving out of his way. He barely had a chance to respond to the sudden invitation before the gray tom continued on, pushing through the gorse tunnel with haste. Harefoot didn't blame him. It was freezing.

"Okay." He meowed rather late and trotted after, feeling the snow melt away under his paws with each step. Hopefully this trek would be fruitful. The last thing the clan needed was another day without food. Harefoot lifted his nose into the air and opened his mouth to scent for prey, momentarily pausing in place.

Flintfang shivered as he trudged deeper into the forest. Thunderclan's usual undergrowth was now sparse, dry and brown, peeking out of the snow. The sound of pawsteps behind him signaled Harefoot's pursuit. Most cats would stop and talk, but Flintfang was at a loss for words. One, because the icy wind seemed to suck the air from his mouth, and two, Flintfang wasn't quite in the mood. He had grown since becoming a warrior, finding himself more charismatic, oddly. The gray tabby seemed to find a value in friends that he would never dream of as an apprentice. He just had to be careful not to get too close.

The tom was shaking now, flakes of snow coating his gray pelt. A shifting of a shriveled fern caught his attention. Something's under the snow... Flintfang padded forward warily, pinpointing the spot and preparing to leap. The warrior dove into the snow mound, claws outstretched. They closed around something warm, and the tom pulled it out the snow bank and bit down quickly. A mouse resided between his paws. Flintfang shook his fur out, attempting to remove the clumps of snow. The tom turned toward Harefoot, hoping he didn't look ridiculous with white flakes covering his pelt.
"You know Beartooth, right?" It was an impulsive question, wildly unlike Flintfang to ask about his clanmates. Perhaps he really had grown. "How is he?"

The member 'lemongrass' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 5

Harefoot, ever timid, was content with the lack of conversation. The more he spoke, the less focus he had, anyway. Flintfang seemed uninterested in conversation as well. Instead, he pressed on into the bitter wind and kept his ears and nose perked for signs of prey. The snow on the ground grew thicker the farther they traveled from camp, and Harefoot found himself missing the soft squish of dust and leaves beneath his paws from warmer seasons. He regained his focus when his hunting companion dove into the snow, and barely caught the sight of a gray squirrel darting away from the disturbance. He pursued it, but upon making a sharp turn to follow it around a tree, he slid in the snow and wound up buried in a deep snow bank. By the time he pulled himself out, the squirrel was nowhere to be found. He sighed and retraced his steps to find his companion.

Harefoot sucked in air to regain his breath after the brief chase. By now Flintfang had pulled out the mouse that he'd dove for, and Harefoot nodded in approval. Hopefully the cold snow covering the gray warrior's pelt wouldn't make him sick. His ears flicked when Flintfang finally spoke, and meowed softly in response. "Beartooth? Yes, we've been close since I was just a kit." He paused to consider the question. Flintfang likely knew Beartooth moderately well if he were interested in asking. "Quiet, as usual. Maybe too quiet. He has many apprentices to train each day, so he's a bit exhausted. Four, I think? I don't know why Leopardstar and Marshstorm would assign that many to him. Anyway, don't tell anyone I said this... but I think he's padding after Bushfang, y'know?  Seems less distant when she's around." A small smile curled his cream muzzle. Maybe he shouldn't be sharing things like that, but he doubted any harm could come of it.

The member 'Sun' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 9

A breath escaped Flintfang's nose and he smiled. Bushfang? Really? The thought of Beartooth and his sister together somewhat amused the gray tabby tom. Honestly, he really didn't think his sister was capable of caring, let alone wooing some tom to chase after her. Maybe it was just sibling rivalry that had Flintfang doubting Bushfang, but either way, the thought brought a grin to his face.
"Bushfang? Geez, it makes me worried for Beartooth." There was a teasing tone in the warrior's voice, he wasn't serious obviously. The words came easily, and the tom was almost surprised at his willingness to converse. Ever since his warrior ceremony, Flintfang's mind felt better, he felt better. Perhaps it was Shimmerheart's words of encouragement that saved him. Or maybe Burntpaw. Most likely Burntpaw.

Shaking the thought away, Flintfang shivered. "Maybe we should each try for one more catch, then head back. I'm freezing." And he was. The icy snow clung to his belly fur, and his paws were numb.

Hoping for another mouse, Flintfang traversed a mound of snow, ears perked for the slightest noise. The noise he did hear, was not a mouse however, but a starling. It was digging up something under the snow, having left its nest for a meal. Holding his breath, Flintfang dropped into a crouch and slinked forward.

"Foxdung!" The tom hissed, the starling flying up to the trees, escaping his grasp. Frustrated, Flintfang padded back to Harefoot, hoping the warrior would have better luck than himself.

The member 'lemongrass' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 7

Much to his own surprise, Harefoot smiled at Flintfang's joke. He was certain that Beartooth could handle himself... maybe. He allowed himself to relax, or at least attempted to against the bitter chill of the wind. But now wasn't quite the time to relax; between them, the two warriors had only managed to catch one mouse. That would feed an elder, but not much else. Harefoot nodded at Flintfang's suggestion to try once more, determined to catch something this time, and headed off in his own direction.

He relied more on the echoing of small movements against the snow than on scent. Everything was too wet for him to track anything reliable. Instead, he flicked his big ears all around, trying to pinpoint prey sounds, until he caught the minute flap of wings in the distance. Then he heard Flintfang's voice, muted ("Foxdung!"), and moved on. Harefoot found better luck in a small clearing with a very faint patch of sunlight. There, nosing through a thinner layer of snow, was a mole; a rare sight to see above ground in leafbare. He inched forward carefully, his own heart beginning to beat wildly, until he felt by instinct that he'd come close enough.

He leaped and landed forcefully with one paw on its back. The force was enough to break its spine and kill it in a single blow, and exhaling a sigh of relief, Harefoot picked it up gently in his mouth and returned to Flintfang's location. Two pieces were better than one. He nodded in the direction of camp, trying not to break the mole's skin by speaking around it.

The member 'Sun' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 1

Flintfang's gaze rose as he spotted Harefoot padding back to his location, a mole in his jaws. With a nod of acknowledgement, the gray tabby tom snatched up his own catch, a scrawny mouse, and followed the warrior back to camp. Flintfang's green gaze ran along the ground as he tried to retrace his steps, fitting his paws into pawprints made previously. Harefoot isn't all bad... The tom told himself, following the lean warrior through the snow. He was used to judgmental glances from his clanmates, gossiping about his past deviance from the code. A few cats seemed tolerable. Beartooth for one, he had found to be an ally. Burntpaw too, and maybe Falconpaw. They all seemed to see him not as a scoundrel but a friend. Flintfang would be lying if he said he didn't like that. With a subtle glance, the gray tabby wondered if he could add Harefoot to that list. He certainly wasn't a terrible foxheart.
Flintfang shook the thought away as the two warriors arrived on camp. A purr sparked in his throat as he remembered his warm nest waiting for him, a chance to get out of the cold. Content, the warrior dropped his catch on the fresh-kill pile and gave Harefoot a nod, deciding he liked the tom. "Thanks." Flintfang mumbled, a smile rising on his face. It was a good day.