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"Here's to the health of married women! Of married women and their lovers!"

Goldwater • Male • 26 moons • Warrior • Swamp --> Camp • Mentions: Ratstar; Snowfrost; Everybody Else

The golden figure, his pelt flecked in mud where it was visible above the sludge, stalked along the undergrowth. Goldwater placed his paws methodically one after another, careful not to disturb the swamp's fragile silence. Four dog-lengths away from him, a single dark green caiman basked in a precious spot of sunlight, its mouth slightly agape. Insects buzzed around the lanky creature's head and body, regular flicks of the dingo's triangular ears dismissing the irritants for only a second before their unwanted return. He moved forward again, narrowly missing a delicate twig the surely would have given him away. Before he could take another step, the marsh rippled as the reptile slipped in, prompting a quiet, disgruntled growl. He straightened, tail lashing behind him, and frowned. The prey pile was diminishing quickly and he likely wouldn't be adding to it today.

Goldwater turned and began his trek towards camp when a tan pelt caught his eye, sticking out through the trees. Quickly, he crouched again, his face betraying confusion. His nostrils flared, inhaling the marsh air with analytical purpose. The smell that infiltrated the usual muddy stench made the dingo's brown eyes widen and his mouth water. Deer. A doe and fawn, to be exact. As rare and coveted as this quarry was, the warrior had no chance of taking either one by himself. Forcing his steps to be slow until out of range, Goldwater raced back to camp, splashing through murky water and leaping over logs and particularly sticky mud. When the forms of his clanmates came into view, the male let loose a loud howl, hollering and barking to attract attention. He slowed to a trot as he entered camp, approaching Ratstar with urgency in his expression. "Ratstar, Snowfrost," he breathed, exhausted. It always left a bad taste in his mouth when he had to call his clanmates by their Clan names, but now was not the time to dwell on politics. "A deer. In the swamp. North... north of here." Ratstar looked at him with ferocity and pride, grinning as she stood straight and barked into the air. "Warriors! All capable hunters gather; there is a deer in the Mud! We must hunt!"

| Daisyfoot |
Female • 41 Moons • Dingo • Warrior
Location: Camp • Mentions: {Directly} Thunderstep / {Indirectly} Ratstar, Goldwater

A massive shadow fell over hers as Daisyfoot dropped the doves atop the fresh-kill pile, the squelch of paws moving through mud greeting her ears as she turned to face Thunderstep. The brute was more than half her size and she had to crane her neck slightly in order to meet his gaze. “Thunderstep,” she responded, eyes filled with mirth in response to the sly wink. It was reassuring to know she wouldn’t be subjected to any questioning from her fellow warrior at the least. “Thanks! Though they were so slow and lazy a pup could have caught them.” It was true enough. The doves had been too busy stuffing their beaks with seed to notice the creeping Dingo until it was too late. They were an easy catch overall, with her only concern being the Roseclan cats catching her in the act.

She didn’t have a chance to say much else as Goldwater came noisily rushing into camp, hurrying toward Ratstar. Daisyfoot’s ears perked with interest. What could be so important he would dare interrupt their leader’s meal? She needn’t wait long for an answer as Ratstar announced the presence of a deer. Daisyfoot’s curled tail began wagging furiously and she gave a little bounce in excitement. “Did you hear that!? A deer!” She exclaimed to Thunderstep, already moving toward the camp entrance to wait for further instructions. She may have just returned from a hunt, but the she-dog was still bursting with energy and ready for a new mission.



| Redbird |
Male • 37 Moons • Dhole • Warrior
Location: Camp • Mentions: (Directly) Petalrock, Silverspirit / {Indirectly} Briarpetal, Thornprickle, Goldwater, Ratstar

“Go see Thornprickle or Briarpetal if you need to,” Redbird whispered, attention returning to Petalrock when no immediate announcement was made. “There’s no shame in it you know.” He might have stayed around to chat longer if Goldwater hadn’t come hurtling into camp with news of a deer, his first reaction to such news was intrigue, however a slim silvery tan shape slipping away just outside camp was apparently far more enticing. He left Petalrock’s side without another word, leaving camp at an easy trot before picking up the pace once out of sight, leaping the log Silverspirit had previously rested upon and racing to catch up. “Hey!” He barked to alert the coyote of his approach, not wanting to potentially frighten her or cause her to lash out. “Deer not much to your taste? I know you must have heard that.”

Owlstorm
Male | 34 Moons | Arctic Wolf | Warrior
Location: Camp Grounds | Mentions: Ratstar - Goldenwater - StarClan - Felines {Indirectly}

The echo of Ratstar's echo reached the white warriors ears from across camp, and slowly he lifted himself from the mud of their home. Bright pelt now stained black to help cool himself off in the morning sunrise. "A deer?" Softly spoken to himself, he began trotting across the camp to follow Goldenwater and his beloved leader to the supposedly helpless prey. Was this a gift from that clan in the stars Ratstar spoke so fondly of? He found it all a bit hard to believe, and the religion itself a tad mousebrained. The only thing he truly cared for was making sure his clan was fed, and his leader was happy. The only way he thought it possible was in the territory of the felines, the taste of their clan names on his tongue sickening to him.

The clans excitement at the announcement of deer just inside their borders seemed to distract him from the thought of war, and was now replaced with hunger pains. Sick of eating nothing but snakes and crows the phantom blood of elk was suddenly in his mouth and it made him pick up his pace, even if the sun against his pelt which he hadn't any time to cover in the cooling mud made him feel heavy.

E M B E R S T E P
Female | 36 Moons | Maned Wolf | MudClan Warrior
Mentions: Open for Interaction.

Pale sage eyes had watched Ratstar stride into camp with a mud-cloaked body, a sight that made it difficult for Emberstep to not wrinkle her snout at. If there was anyone here that was unimpressed with their current living situation, it was her. She despised the filth that lay around them, and did her best to tread around it. Turning her attention away from their leader, the russet canid gingerly positioned herself on a fairly dry and stoney surface, angling a paw to scrape any filthy residue off and return them to their routine cleanliness. How was this an acceptable way to live? How was everyone acting like this was fine? Was she always going to be covered in mud? Was she supposed to turn into some sort of slimy mudskipper? This was not oka-

A loud howl tugged her from her rambling thoughts, tall erect ears on the top of her head pricking at first with concern, then curiosity at the news of prey. Prey that wasn't a measly bird or snake. She swiped her jaws across her thin muzzle at the thought, but did not move. She was a stealthy and quick female, with her long legs and lithe form, but she was not bold enough to immediately jump up and participate. Rather sheepishly, she ducked her head but instinctually did not remove her eyes from where the deer supposedly was. This might be our only chance at a decent meal for quite some time. Get your legs moving, you timid pup!

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"You have your weapons, I have mine."

Doechaser • Female • 29 moons • Warrior • Camp --> Swamp • Mentions: Emberstep; Hunting Party

Finding no juicy gossip in her current position, Doechaser sashayed further into camp. As she passed the Leader and Deputy, the pretty female nodded and continued on her way to the squat prey pile. The largest corpse in there was gnarled remains of an old deer, the meat along the spine and ribs all that was left. The sorry buck was surrounded and covered in ten thin birds, a couple caiman, and a multitude of snakes of various sizes. The she-wolf grimaced, carefully picking out the limp, tough body of a caiman and dragging it a ways away to a clean rock beside where the land grew littered in trees and water. Her appetite put off slightly by the ugly morning and mopey accent lacing the air, Doechaser picked at the leathery hide without much dedication or desire. But she needed to eat to live, right? And thus, she winced and tore a chunk of flesh away, swallowing it quickly. Her maw opened again to take another bite when the howls and barks of a dingo — one she often talked and flirted with — filled the foggy air. Tail thumping against the ground with the optimistic announcement, the Mexican wolf stood and looked around for anyone that would join the hunt. Her tongue flicked from between her lips and ran over her whiskers and jowls, the almost-forgotten taste of deer filling her mouth and making it water. She took off at a trot towards Goldwater's out-of-breath form but diverted her path as a rust-hued female caught her eye. "You coming, Emberstep?," the social she chirped, coming to a halt beside the maned wolf, "I know you're a pretty good hunter."

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Briarpetal // 23 Moons // Medicine Dog Apprentice // Male // Location: MudClan Campp // Mentions: [Directly] & [Indirectly] Hunting Party

The young male lifted his head suddenly, recoiling from the sharp scent of assorted herbs he's lain in front of his paws. The scent of Chamomile, Burnet, and Beech Leaves all jumbled together in a mass of pleasant, yet pungent odors. The broad leaves of the latter herb seemed to be curling up with moisture, and so the apprentice delicately removed the soiled plants from the mix. Thankfully, Beech Leaves were never in much demand... being an herb used to carry other herbs, and so the lack of it wouldn't affect the clan's overall health. Still, the youthful African Wild Dog reminded himself to wander towards the borders later and gather some fresh stock. Briarpetal didn't feel it was a pressing issue, and asking the quickly forming Hunting Party seemed like a counter productive query. He lowered his face to the now organized piles of his precious herbs, each neatly filled into stacks of clean and useful remedies, and inhaled the scent in a final once over of his stock. Seeing the canines beginning to gather by the camp's combined entrance/ exit he gently scooped up some Chamomile in his maw and paced towards the group with a swift urgency prompting his paws to move efficiently.

"For strength," stated the to-be Medicine Dog as he placed the pile of white flower-like herbs in front of the group. He paused briefly before elaborating on it's uses "It also soothes the mind, but mostly I'm hoping it can lend you a helping paw in taking down that deer that's wandered our way." Curtly the mottled canine nodded his head in a gesture to take an herb if they pleased. "They're to be eaten in order to be effective," he mentioned in an afterthought.