Willowpaw's Hunt
Willowpaw shifted her paws slightly. A light wind brushed past her, ruffling her shoulders as she stalked her prey. She could just taste that mouse! It was only a few tail-lengths away. She was downwind, and ready to strike. Willowpaw looked around for a minute. Trees stood tall and mighty all around her. A couple of lonesome leaves still hung to their branches. Her tail was hovering slightly over the leaf-littered ground. It was almost leaf-bare, and the Clan needed fresh-kill more than ever as leaf-fall ended. This mouse would make a good meal for the elders. She needed to provide for her Clan and make them proud. Turning her focus back to the mouse, Willowpaw narrowed her dark blue eyes. Her dark brown pelt blend perfectly with the colors of the forest, and the mouse didn't see her coming 'till it was too late.
With perfect timing and deadly precision, Willowpaw leapt, unsheathing her claws mid pounce, and landing on the mouse expertly. Willowpaw felt the mouse warm blood on her claws and she could smell it's metallic scent. Her mouse's warmth was slowly seeping out of it's tiny body. After one final shriek, the mouse lay unmoving, it's soft, brown-furred chest still as a rock.
Willowpaw gave a leap of joy at her successful catch. Just then, her denmate, Palepaw, appeared from behind a tree hauling a plump squirrel. "Nice catch!" She mewed in admiration, setting down her squirrel. "Thanks!" Willowpaw replied, looking happily at the mouse, "Not so bad yourself!" "You're a cheeky one, I'll give you that! Race you back to camp!" Palepaw yowled.
Palepaw and Willowpaw both picked up their fresh kill. The two sprinted back to camp, with their catches in their jaws. Leaf-bare was upon them, but for now, these two could savor little catches, and enjoy their dreams of becoming warriors.