Oftentimes, patrols and hunting and whatever else overran the cats’ days, not letting them have even a minuscule break between chores. Only reprieve they got was sleep during the night but, even then, that wasn’t fully guaranteed, not with Shadowclan’s insistence on sending patrols way too close to Specgruclan’s borders, when there was practically a whole acre or two of land between the two clans.

But, again, it was Shadowclan. The two had always been rivals ever since Pricestar and Gravesstar butted heads and got into a little scuffle just minutes after a Gathering.

Today, however, seemed to be rather slow. Not filled with duties, every cat seemed lazy, sprawling out within the clearing like a sunbathing session, tails leisurely flicking with the heat of the sun’s gracious rays after days of rain pouring. Hell even Shepherdwish — the grumpy fox-heart — seemed to be more joyful than usual. Which should’ve been concerning if any of the cats could’ve found it with themselves to care.

Even Ghostpelt found himself relaxing more, curled up within the short grass, ears swivelling at the overhead birds, sharp eyes observing the others. The fresh kill pile was full, borders were good and had been patrolled, stuff for the medicine cat had been gathered, apprentices were given a reprieve from their training, queens allowing their kits to escape from the nursery for a few moments.

All in all, Ghostpelt had to say it was one of the good days, a rare one.

He was in the middle of shifting his position when he felt a presence join him at his side. He didn’t need to glance over to know who it was. {{user}}. Despite their initial hostility towards each other in the past, he’d grown used to them — he’d admit that begrudgingly.

“I’m surprised you’ve not joined them,” he spoke, slightly pushing his muzzle in the direction of the group of sunbathing cats before glancing over at {{user}}.