Quote:
Originally Posted by savage scar
Stripefeather came out of her den, yawning and stretching, flexing her claws as she did so. She shook her head and padded out, making her way over to the prey pile. She took out a mouse and walked to the side next to a snow-covered bush, before tucking in.
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Cherrywing saw the white-and-gray she-cat exit her den. She stood still for a moment before heaving herself to her paws, her round belly swaying with the promise of new kits. She settled herself down next the pale cat with a grunt. "Good morning, Stripefeather. Are you well?" It was common courtesy to ask if a cat was feeling alright when they first talked where she came from. It was something her mother had taught her before being killed by a rabid raccoon.