The small tom woke at the sound of the footsteps, his head raising. "Featherpaw?" He grumbled, lumbering to his paws. Orangepaw looked around, seeing that she had left the den. The tom shook his head, coming to the conclusion that it was time for him to wake up anyway. He wobbled, his small paws not yet steady. The young, frail cat yawned, his jaws opening wide. He trotted out of the den, his strides weak due to several cramps. He let out several hisses of pain before reaching the Fresh Kill Pile . The hungry and bored orange striped tom grabbed a plump vole, hoping somecat would share it with him. Orangepaw sat down and folded his paws neatly, taking several nibbles despite his ever-growing hunger.