A soft breeze swept through the air. Pulling the soft, flame-colored leaves of leaf-fall in a bright array of colors. The moon was just a claw mark in the sky, rearing up to slash at the spray of stars that spanned across the darkness. Amongst the shadows below, a twig snapped.
A cat hissed in rage, lunging forward in desperation. Prey was few and far between, losing any catch was shameful. The mouse however, was lucky. Darting off to its burrow among a nearby tree's roots. No doubt to live another day.
"Fox-dung!" The tom hissed, dark grey tail lashing behind him. He let out a growl of displeasure, pale amber eyes glittering in the darkness. Whatever cat had made that blasted noise would pay.
"O-oh. S-sorry, Larkpond, "a familiar voice squeaked. The warrior's scrappy apprentice padded out of hiding.
"Sorry doesn't fill empty bellies. " The tom-Larkpond- quoted what his own mentor had told him. The remembrance of the old she-cat and his own wild antics however, reminded him not to be so harsh on the poor kit.
"Let's go." The older tom muttered, rising to his paws. Even in scantily thrown moonlight, his bones were prominent. Every ridge in his spine and rib on his side was clear. The NightClan warrior stood up and shook out his thick pelt. "Maybe we can make up for that loss?"
He flicked his long, bushy tail at the smaller cat with a father's affection and ducked off into the woods. Mind wandering. Softpetal should be having her kits any day now, hunting was hard enough even without a few helpless kits to feed.
Larkpond shook the thoughts back. What was he thinking? Kits were precious, especially in a time as harsh as this. He smiled at the thought of it, a few bumbling little furballs would brighten up camp. The tom twitched his whiskers as he glanced back at the black tom behind him. Not to mention Waterpaw and Patchpaw were born almost nine moons ago, the clan had gone quite a while with no new life.
The tom shook his head in order to clear his thoughts. With one last lash of his tail, he leapt into the undergrowth.
On the other side of the valley, past a winding stream, and in a patch of brush a she-cat awoke with a screech.