Warrior cats

the reddish brown tabby she-cat padded through the forest. her thick tail brushing against the pale bush. she fluffed out her thick fur to keep the cold moist breeze out. she leapt effortlessly over the log. avoiding thick bramble thickets and nettles.

she splashed through a shallow stream soaking her paws. she scented the air the breeze carried the smell of squrriel to her. She dropped into a couch. she flatten her ears back. she stalked forward one step at a time. she spotted the flurry creature chewing on a nut at the clustered roots of a oak tree. it looked young and plum good prey for sure. she accidentally sent leaves flying from under her tail. the squirrel let out a squeak and tired to flee. but she lunged forward hooking her claws into its tail. she bit its neck it hung limp from her jaw. the fluff of its tail rubbing against her muzzle.

she dropped it. sinking her teeth into its body. when she heard a rustle. she whipped around. a spiky thorn bush with pale white flower with star-like petals and trailing fern-likes leaves shook. a pale white cream she-cat stepped out. the stranger had a spiky collar. for a moment a narrowed gray gaze meet a wide amber gaze “who are you?” the cream she-cat asked.

the brown tabby dropped into a couch. “my name flute..”