Recovery is hard work (open hunting patrol)

Turtlefur leaned over the river, a single paw dipped in the cool water. He was waiting for fish for the first time in moons. But the fish were timid and sparse. He sympathized with them as he also knew the fear of being hunted. But RiverClan needed food, especially fish, if they wanted the earn back their water-resistant pelts and round bellies that would see them through the cold leafbare. Downriver were the rest of his patrol, also seeking to restock their fresh-kill pile with focused expressions.

ooc: fly already has their hunting req, so i won’t roll until my next post

After trailing behind their patrolmates all the way to the riverbank, Flypaw had settled a few tail-lengths downstream from their mentor—close enough to sneak glances at Turtlefur’s posture and technique, not so close as to be obvious about it. Hunger curled sharp in their stomach. Though the intruders had vanished, RiverClan’s food supply had yet to bounce back; they could still starve unless every warrior (or almost-warrior, as it were) pulled their weight. It wasn’t fair. But complaints didn’t fill bellies and, worse, might clue everyone else in to the fact that Flypaw could count the minutes they’d spent fishing on their whiskers, so Flypaw squinted harder at the river and kept their mouth shut. After a moment, they dunked a paw in the water. It felt more or less like what they remembered, cool and gentle between their outstretched toes. Not half as good as actually catching something, but it was a start.

Turtlefur’s eyes were tracing the path of his targets—minnows, mostly, with some graylings and disappointingly small chubs in the mix. It was like the twolegs plucked out all their salmon and trout and left the little fish behind. The warrior’s mouth was watering at the thought of bringing home an enormous pike to share with Cloverheart and Egretstorm. Egretstorm was nice… a bit tired of saving his bobtailed behind all the time, but steady and reliable and pretty and oh stars he was staring blankly at the fish. One was picking at his toes, trying to glean food from it, and it was going to get away if he didn’t strike-

It was writhing on the bank, tail fins slapping wildly against the mud and he was on it in a moment. A minnow, greenish in the sunlight with blood all over it after Turtlefur nearly severed its head off. Not the pike he drooled over, but food nonetheless. Oily and filling and nutritious, something a queen would accept gratefully to restore her beautiful pelt to its glossy state and enrich her milk for her hungry kits. It would do, but it was not enough. The warrior needed to pull his head out of the mud and focus.

-3 sp. 137/140

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

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'Hunting Dice' : 2