The fresh-kill pile was several pieces short of being as full as the clan needed for the start of Newleaf (especially with kits coming into the clan) – Walnutnose was assured in this fact, because they’d counted it meticulously, thrice. But, again, it was thankfully Newleaf and so finding prey for restocking was not difficult.

On an off-note of a favor for Ivywhisker, they detoured to go check on the tunnels that Cinderstar had declared off limits – they weren’t sure why she wanted them to do so, but knew they’d be able to answer any questions their friend had after a thorough look-see.

Honestly, they should have expected someone to be snooping around in defiance of their leader and deputy; but they aren’t and so they startled a bit as someone came bustling out. Mouthful of rabbit, they blinked at Thistleroot – a blind tunneler Webroot had spoken of fondly – as he spoke, obviously noting their presence.

The prey’s body thumped on the ground as they dropped it, taking a moment to flex their jaw and eye the gray tom over before speaking.

“Walnutnos’.” The strength of their accent on both the “w” and “a” sounds – “ah” and there was a kick to “w” in an odd cross between a “k” and “q” – was a good tell, as was the odd halting manner they ended their own name.

“It’s only been 3 and a half days.” The words of 'since Cinderstar’s ban' hang between them, so obvious they don’t need to be aired aloud.

They give him 116 heartbeats take in the dirt on his paws and the stale scent of soil that cling to his pelt, counting diligently— before, finally, realizing the tunneler was agitated; understandable, though they would have thought a rebellious apprentice would be the first to be caught breaking Cinderstar’s new rules rather than some a grown cat.

“How are they?”