Honeyglare scowled, her temper short that evening. The sleek RiverClan warrior swung her head around, glaring at any cat who looked at her. When she wasn’t glaring, she walked - no, really, it was more like stalked - low to the ground. Her fur spiked in all different directions atop her back, still drying from her dip in the river. She didn’t care. Finally, the huffy she-cat sat down, and started to groom her fur.
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