[Neptune.]

Carrioncaller
~<>~
67 moons || he/him || ThunderClan Warrior
bulky, thick furred mink point w/ feathered tail; blue eyes

Stalking through the territory, Carrioncaller drops his nose to the ground, breathing in deeply in search of prey. The pile should be overflowing even this early into new-leaf, and it wasn't which, frankly, was annoying. If the younger, more spry warriors couldn't take it upon themselves to go out hunting, then why were they even warriors? They should all be shoved into gross, claustrophobic two-leg dens if they couldn't manage hunting every now and then.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, the bulky tomcat breathes in deeply once more, quickly catching fresh squirrel scent and dropping into a crouch to track it, posture reminiscent of a bloodhound on the trail. It's not long before the creature scratching at the ground comes into view, and the experienced warrior readies himself to pounce, muscled legs bunching up to spring forward. Not a moment later, the squirrel is dead in his jaws. Carrioncaller doesn't make a fuss of catching the thing, no happy trills of smug smirks - there's no point to any of it. He's preforming his duty, not participating in a show.

One squirrel is hardly enough prey to bring back to camp, however, so dark brown paws go to work burying the rodent quickly, nose back to the ground a moment later, mouth open to draw in any scents. The forest is loud and saturated with smells of all kinds, a kit or new apprentice or horrendously lost kitty-pet might be overwhelmed by it all, but this is nothing but the smells and sounds of home to Carrioncaller, he is relaxed and confident here. A new scent drifts his way, mole. What was a mole doing out during the daylight? Whatever, the reason is unimportant, the creature will simply serve as more food for ThunderClan.

Not a moment later, he'd caught the thing while it was scrabbling around the forest floor, evidently in search of the entrance to its tunnels but too blind to find its way back. Really, Carrioncaller had done it a service by killing it. Carrying it back to the squirrel, the older tom kept his eyes and ears open for anything or anyone else around... perhaps he could rope some other poor soul into hunting with him, that would certainly be a cruel and unusual punishment for them.



[sorta open... will post him heading back tomorrow if no one bothers him but no pressure ^^]