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this was made by young spam artist who likes to share his vision with the rest of the world.
The dark gray tom curled out his sore legs in a stretch, roused awake as a soft nose brushed his flank. His blue eyes blinked open, meeting the harsh colors and shapes of stony mountains. His dream of lush green-leaf trees and swaying bracken had been only that; a dream.
Rolling over onto his back, he spotted the cat who had awoken him.
"Did you have to wake me, Swallowtail? I was just about to catch that squirrel..." He meowed sleepily.
Swallowtail's green eyes sparked with a ghost of sarcastic humor. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have gotten your lazy pelt up if I had known I would get a share of dream squirrel when I woke up."
Rainwhisker's whiskers twitched up into a smile. It's a good thing I have Swallowtail around, he thought gratefully. No one else in this dreary group has a laugh left in them since...
The ThunderClan warrior gulped at the sudden thought. Since Smokepaw's death. The apprentice had been of a different clan, and Rainwhisker had only spoken to him a couple of times, but the fall of the gray apprentice had affected all of the cats in this group, almost as if...
As if we were all one clan, not four.
"Come on, mousebrain," Swallowtail flicked her dark brown tail over Rainwhisker's ear. "We're going out with a group of prey-hunters to feed the clan." The she-cat turned and trotted to the cave entrance, where a group of Clan cats and Tribe cats were gathered together, the clan cats looking as desolate and hopeless as ever.
Swallowtail's slip did not escape Rainwhisker's notice; she had used Clan instead of Clans when addressing him.
It really is like we're one Clan, not four, Rainwhisker mused. But that must change when we reach our new home, right? StarClan meant for there to be four clans in the forest. But...
But, Rainwhisker had to admit to himself as he followed Swallowtail's sleek pelt across the cave floor, he rather wished there was only one clan. A clan that Swallowtail and he were both members of.
The gray warrior shook his head, ears flapping. It was easy to lapse into those kinds of daydream thoughts with the clans traveling in such close proximity to each other. The sooner we reach our new home, the better.
The hunting patrol left the cave entrance, padding past the pounding waterfall. Rainwhisker shivered as his thick pelt was misted with droplets of water. The Tribe cats and Swallowtail didn't seem bothered by the dew.
The ThunderClan tom shivered as the group ran through the hard, steep paths, the cold mountain wind piercing his damp pelt. His sore paws began stinging again as sharp pebbles littering the paths tore at his pads.
Suddenly, The group came to a halt. Rainwhisker saw the mountain cats looking up patiently, and he followed their gaze to the cold gray sky.
The fur on his spine tingled as the black shadow of a hawk's wings cast over him, blocking out the sun momentarily. These Tribe cats might take this as a natural sight, but to him it felt like an omen. Stories of kits and apprentices getting carried off by hawks were all too common in the forest.
His nose pricked as the scent of rabbit suddenly reached him from ahead. Craning his neck above the other cats, he spotted the prey; a skinny gray hare trying to find shelter in a rocky crevice.
Why don't they get it? The blue-eyed tom wondered crossly. Sure, the rabbit looked stringy and skinny, but it was still prey, and any morsel would help the clan in these times of trouble.
Maybe they can't see it. It is nearly the same shade as the mountain.
With this thought in his mind, Rainwhisker quickly dropped into his hunter's crouch and slithered forward, close to the stone. His dark gray fur blended in perfectly; he had no need for the tribe's mud.
He was so focused on his prey that he didn't notice the warning stares the tribe prey-hunters sent him. When he was a tail-length away he pounced, catching the hare completely off guard and swiftly killing it. Nearly bursting with pride for spotting the catch the others didn't,
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