Frostpaw's claw hovered over the thrashing river, anticipating the arrival of a fish of some sorts. Frostpaw wasn't used to hunting: Mothwing didn't make her, and her time as Harelight's apprentice was so short lived the idea of hunting was few and far between. Nightheart, Waffle and Wasp were all out scouting for signs they were nearing the clan territories, Frostpaw had a gut feeling the group was. She struck out with a paw when a shadow crossed the riverbank, but all that came of it was the little silver fish splashing up onto shore and the flopping back into the water before Frostpaw could reach it.

You stood on the other side of the river, lapping up a quick drink of icy cold water. Suddenly, you heard a commotion coming from a bit aways, and, as any cat would, you went to go make sure everything was okay. By the riverbank was a young, small frazzled grey shecat with icy blue eyes. She regained balance and after a few seconds stared at you, just a few adder-lengths away. The little shecat jumped into action, her fur puffed out, ears half-mast, tail swashing furiously. She let out a tiny growl.