He woke. Featherkit got up and stretched. He shivered as one of the leafbare winds ticked his belly. Featherkit lived in a cave. A cave high up in the mountains, surrounded by thick layers of snow. His cave was small, but large enough for a nest, a water puddle at the back and hole in the ground were he kept his kill pile. The pile was rather small, made up of a half frozen rabbit, five mice, a shrew and a measly thrush that Featherkit had found almost dead on a cliff face. At the very back there was a large mound of feathers. It looked just like a natural pile of usually feathers that Featherkit didn't need but actually they were the feathers of an eagle that Featherkit was very proud of. He had caught it himself as it was eating a mouse and he was only going to eat it if he was desperate. It's thick layer of feathers surrounded by snow kept it fresh and un-rotten and he had a feeling he might need it soon.
Featherkit had lived there for three seasons and he was eleven moons old himself. He could remember living there with his parents, he couldn't remember his fathers name, he knew that once he had been a great warriors somewhere far away and Featherkit had always wanted to be one too but he knew now he never would get the chance. His mothers name always remained in his head though. Her name was Brook, she had once been part of a great tribe, but had left to be with his father. They had lived in the cave for two moons when one night when they were out hunting, a terrible storm brewed up and they never returned. Featherkit had lived on his own from then on. Hunting for himself, keeping the cave clean and dry. He now knew how to do every thing independently. He had been thinking about these things as he got in to his nest that night as that was the night he turned twelve moons.