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Hawkstar
Spicy grunted and headed up the hill, he was nearing the end of his middle-ages and a harsh winter without a den, not really knowing how to hunt, and not sharing a nest with multiple cats to transfer heat had visibly aged him. He was only 60 moons old. In the last moon of Syndicate he was well fed, and looked about 10 moons younger. His ungroomed grey fur was mattered down by the snow (I pressume it’s snowing already in Maine) he looked tired and ready to colapse. He glanced at the cat he saw
If this cat attacks me...I’m going to die....oh well....