Graystripe sighed as he fetched fresh moss. After they had run away, they found what was left of the other Clans on the Gathering island. They'd decided to make camp there, as it was easy to defend and had plenty of room. That it was neutral ground helped too, as no-one wanted to squabble about whether ThunderClan or ShadowClan had the best territory. Of course, building a camp required lots of work, and with the fifteen to twenty cats remaining having to do it quickly, every cat with their eyes open was required to pitch in, with kits gathering mosses and looking for warm places that could form dens, warriors weaving brambles, hunting and reinforcing camp, and elders doing some mix of the five. He brought his bundle into camp, placing it in the growing pile.
"I'm going out to hunt." He called. He got some dim murmurs of acknowledgement back, so he crossed the tree-bridge, desperate to keep himself busy. He padded deeper into the forest, a particularly juicy mouse catching his eye. Graystripe pounced, claws outstretched. As he stared at the felled mouse, a rush of memory caught him.
"Well, I'm more lopsided than a badger!"
He broke off from his careful stalking to lumber across the clearing, trying to lighten the mood.
"I shall just have to settle for hunting stupid mice. I shall just have to sit on them until they surrender."
He shook the lingering cobwebs of memory off, and trudged deeper into the forest after burying his catch. This time he'd look for a rabbit or a squirrel.
When Graystripe came back, the walls were half-finished. He brought his catch – not as impressive as in his warrior days, but still pretty good – into camp, before picking a plump wood mouse to share with his mate. He watched a litter of kits squabble over a pigeon, before their mother divided it into four and took her fill. A white queen – Tinycloud, was it? -was arranging some moss into a nest for her and the kits. Beside her, a sleek and a skinny warrior were both helping to patch a hole in the wall. Graystripe and Millie, mouse finished, trotted off to find some more moss. The pile was getting low, after all.
Blossomfall awoke to the darkness of the Twolegs' den. She gingerly ate some of the slop there, suppressing her horror at both the taste and the implications to the code.
Her paw contained a lump of a Twoleg thing, which she hated. She needed to get it out. Pushing open the flap in the Twoleg entryway, she made her way outside, where she unsheathed her claws and pushed them into her paw. Suppressing a hiss of pain, she buried the object into the ground and headed for a nearby cobweb, which she wrapped around her paw. She'd sleep in the bushes until it was healed.
