[Deleted]

ASHWHISKER of TreeClan
36 Moons. She-Cat. Warrior

The grey and white she-cat opened a single eye when the sun reached through the den to wake her up. It was a good thing that Lionstar hadn't tasked her with any patrols today, or this would have been bad, but then, she did come back from the dawn patrol a few hours ago, sleep was warranted right? The she-cat shrugged that off and she rose from her nest and stretched her body out, hearing satisfying cracks as her back and bones realigned from her sleep as a tight ball.

At this moment the she-cat heard and felt her stomach growl and she straightened out and walked outside of the den. She slowly prodded over to the fresh kill pile and she grabbed a small mouse. She had been on a patrol, not a hunting patrol. She felt like she didn't deserve something bug since she didn't bring anything in. She looked around that half empty camp and she sat down under a tree for some shade as she started to pick at her mouse.

Tag: Fawn
Words: 182
Notes: Sorry it's a short start

[Fawn]

Lionstar

51 Moons || Tom || TreeClan

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        The morning had been almost suspiciously quiet. It had seemed for a while that Lionstar couldn't get from sunrise to sunset without something happening at a border or a kind of dispute happening right here within camp. The patrol assignments went off without a hitch, and he had hunted personally with the first hunting party of the day; his claws were not decorative, it was always important to him to keep his skills sharp. He gazed around camp; everyone was awake and active before the heat of the sun could sink in, and they'd wile away the sunhigh doing as little as possible to stay cool. He was coming to enjoy the evenings more than anything, to have the air turn cool and the activity quiet down as it all approached nighttime. The forest seemed to get noisier in those times, but he hardly minded. If you listened hard enough both then and now, you could hear the frogs croaking and peeping from the marshy territory of NightClan.

At least we have that going for us, he mused as he selected a chaffinch from the pile. We don't have to catch anything that's been sitting for hours, covered in muck, and call it fresh prey. The feathers of the dead bird tickled the roof of his mouth as he turned from the pile, considering eating in his den. He could, but where was the fun in that? Noticing a familiar gray and white shape, his heart jolted—Willowfur? Ah, no, it was Ashwhisker. Lionstar immediately shoved aside any feelings of disappointment over that and approached, setting his chaffinch down when he slowed to stand beside her. "I hope you don't mind the company." The golden tom smiled, settling in.

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Word Count: 280ish
Tags: @nadia