It was quiet. too quiet for Roughpaw's tastes. Sure, don't get him wrong. He took his time in sitting about and thinking about things in his own silence just like everybody else. But this particular black tom was usually one for doing it back at camp. So when his paws softly crossed over the grassy trod-on soil, his pointed ears flickered with uncertainty. Swiveling left and right as he attempted to extract the cause of this quiet. He'd gone from the camp to the plains, and was rounding his way back once he'd reached the clearing. Figuring he might as well not return empty handed - or in this case, empty pawed? It was thus, that two mice hung limp and still from his jowls. Claws curved downwards, they scuffled the dirt only slightly. Each paw giving a faint flick as he took another step. Roughpaw had managed to traverse half the length of the marshy plains homeward when that familiar Earthclan scent hit his nose. This singular aroma brought his memory to life.

Whiskers gave a twitch and a calm smile creased the end of his mug. Walking along side the mushy banks, and wet ground his left hind foot caught a stone and he went careening into a nearby puddle. Loosing both of his mice in the process. "Ack!" He hissed angrily, quickly scrambling to pick up the not soaked carcasses. At best they'd dry by the time he got back to camp, and only his paws had managed to get some water on them. Overall it wasn't that bad. Giving his fur a quick shake, he mumbled to himself silently that it could have been worse. Then again, with such noise it was undoubtedly near impossible to have not scared off any other prey nearby. Unless, Starclan provide, the other critters had been too occupied. Again.. unlikely, he knew. One might guess that Roughpaw hoped for the later, as he was not too interested in hunting anymore. The sooner he got back, the better.

Fur along the apprentice's legs clung to his flesh like sticky honey, ridges and patches sticking up this way and that, while the rest of his body seemed untouched aside from a few droplets. At least he wasn't a complete and utter mess. Allowing a smile to crease his white muzzle as he put on proud and lofty disposition, despite his blatant and obvious kit like blunder from before. With one ear bent, he skipped over another puddle and wove through the plains tall grasses. However, his steps where not as brisk as before. Simply deciding to take his sweet time on getting back in order to let the fresh-kill dry some. His jowls watered somewhat, salivating at the taste of blood and food clutched between his teeth. He felt his stomach churn slightly and groaned to himself. Wishing he could bite his tongue as he silently repeated the same words over and over. The clan eats first.. the clan eats first..