Spawn of flame, Thunder-struck, from the ashes I rise
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Leopardrose kept low as she made her way back toward camp, each step sending a dull ache through her battered body. The abrasions along her sides and legs stung beneath her pelt, now dry from her travels, while the sprain in her hind leg forced a limp.

But the pain was quickly becoming the least of her concerns as the familiar ThunderClan scent was tainted by rogues. The Camp shouldn't be this quiet...Where were the sentries?She lowered her body instinctively, forcing herself to put aside the throbbing in her leg as she approached the camp.

What in StarClan's name had happened? She slipped closer, staying near the cover of the surrounding undergrowth. She paused just outside the camp, her pelt blending into the shadows of twilight.

Leopardrose needed to find out before whoever left the scent realized she was here...

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle kept low as he threaded between the refuse piles, paws placed carefully to avoid anything that might crunch or shift beneath him. The stink of Carrionplace hung heavy in the air, but beneath it was another scent. One that was a bit more mouth watering when they could be caught. Duskmantle had been in search of more hearty prey recently, and rats always were plump off the pickings of Two-Legs.

His ears angled forward as he paused beside a mound of debris, searching for the skittering or chattering from them. Rats weren't mice - They'd sooner bite first than run off. He had heard the stories of groups of rats and their piercing bites which was why it was unwise for younger apprentices to hunt them. Duskmantle was capable and a bit bored.

He lowered himself shoulders rolling into a crouch as he began circling the pile slowly, eying the piles of pipe and tarp. A sudden scuffle erupted to his left, and by instinct he swiped at any exit point, causingt the rat to change gears and erupt in full sprint into a metal tube and attempting to streak past on the other side...

If you believe you can, that’s enough to try.

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The elders and nursery dwellers had been fed, that is what Quailfeather was worried about for the most part. The cats that couldn't hunt for themself anyway. Now it was Quailfeather's turn to satiate his hunger. But with what?

He stood at the pile of fresh kill, he was hungry, but not picky today... Quailfeather had the choice between a thrush, a frog or a vole. Evidently, he was drawn the spot-bellied from of the thrush, he could give the feathers to Glowkit or the elders to decorate their nests. Yeah, that was a good option. Especially since thrush feathers seemed softer and less sleek than any duck he's seen. 

With the thrush clamped in his jaws, he moved to find a comfortable place to sit. Choosing a spot in a shaded corner of camp, something cool to ease his muscles from the work today. It was nice to just get back and let the weight fall off of his shoulders. Patrols were done, Swamppaw's training and chores were done, now it was the lull between day and dusk where the time to relax had come. As peacefully as it was. 

And then, he begun to pluck the bird.

Honey makes the world go round
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A large russet shape could be seen on the fringes of the briar wall. Once vibrant red now dulled Honeyglow's pelt where white hairs have sporatically dotted his stripes most prominantly on his muzzle. Greenleaf was about appreciating what his Clan had and he enjoyed the warmth and fresh prey that ran freely.

Honeyglow padded along the wall, his eyes wandering towards the dens. Glowkit seemed to be more comfortable in Camp now and getting along with the others. As an only kit he knew making friends would be hard - but he had seen Duskmantle interact with the kit. That was good.

 

What are you afraid of losing if nothing in the world actually belongs to you.

˜”*°• 𓇼 •°*”˜

It was downstream from Sunningrocks that Goosesong had found his spot to clear his mind. Coldstar really and truly irked him sometimes, but this was the first time he’d actually done anything about it. Not directly and he hardly believed that Coldstar would take the action into consideration. But he made his stance clear.

Goosesong expected punishment… of some kind, and knowing Coldstar he would probably make it a whole clan ordeal, but even if the entire clan was scolding him, he would feel the same that Coldstar was searching for. His opinion was just and he stood by that entirely. Even if the clan would be against him for it, Goosesong was stubborn like that when he needed to be.

The silver tom glanced down at the rippling water, but now… it was disturbed… something was coming. Then he lifted his head.