[wolfie]

Wormbite's pelt blended into the depths of the night-- only his cloudy eyes reflected the light from the moonshine. His heart was hammering in his chest as the patrol approached Windclan's clearing. All the tom could pray was that the guards at camp would be enough protection while they were gone. That causalities would be minimum. That he wouldn't be along them. Every training session flashing in his head.

Wormbite crashed through the entrance, his claws unsheathed. He could hear the sounds of the coyotes raspy breathing, yips would follow and they became alert. While they were still dazed in confusion, Wormbite took the chance to jump onto one of the coyote's backs. Claws trailing down the coyote's side slightly, he underestimated how tall the coyote would be. So when the coyote stood up, Wormbite's grasp slipped slightly. He dug his claws in, biting down on it's flesh to keep his grip. The coyote would spin around, jaws snapping at the tom. He just needed to hold on until it fled.