Flamefeather stepped into the Darkclan camp, a vole trapped in her jaws. As she glanced around at the quiet clearing, a sense of peace enfolded her.

"Pinestar! Our patrol is back!"

She mewed around the bundle of fur. The tortoiseshells green eyes watched the red tabby exit his den underneath a pile of boulders, and blinked. Her companions dropped their prey on the pile and left to get a well-deserved rest, while Flamefeather trotted toward her leader.

"Excellent work, deputy. Now, about that Grassclan scent..."

Thus was her life.