[Brunch]

As the days were becoming longer, and the sun warmed the territories near the ocean, it became quite obvious that Green-leaf was upon the clans once more. The willows that dotted the RiverClan territory were bright and lively, swaying gently in the warm summer breeze. The soft murmur of the river lapping happily at the bank filled the air. The occasional rustle of the bushes showed the lush amount of prey, and the scent that permeated from them was pleasant. It was one of the most beautiful places in the clan territories. It wasn't dark and dreary like ShadowClan or ThunderClan's territories, and it wasn't open to attacks from above like WindClan. It was perfect. The supply of prey was plentiful, the river attracting them to it to nourish their thirst. Almost any animal that was caught in RiverClan was plump and juicy during the moons of green-leaf, when the vegetation bloomed and blossomed. It was the ideal place for any animal to live; it was the Earth's version of StarClan.

Cloudyfoot basked in the beauty, and the warmth that filtered through the willows, striking his tabby gray fur. Green-leaf was a great time for RiverClan, where they were the strongest clan that lived near the ocean. This was the time where the warrior like to hunt by himself and explore the territory, always amazed by how much it felt like a dream. If only this could last... Cloudyfoot thought with a flick of his tail. He knew it wouldn't, though, as green-leaf always gave way to leaf-fall, followed leaf-bare. Then the tides would turn for RiverClan. Most of the time, the river would overflow, practically drowning all of the clan. Then it would freeze over once the snow hit. As always, Cloudyfoot was optimistic of the next seasons to come, hoping that they wouldn't be as bitter as last.

The soft coo of the river filled all of Cloudyfoot's senses as he approached the frolicking water. The tabby warrior parted his jaws to let the scent of the river and the willows over take him. Those his walks during green-leaf were mostly to get matters off of his mind, he always figured it wouldn't hurt to hunt while he retraces the pawsteps of his ancestors. Cloudyfoot faced the river, his amber eyes darting back and fourth as fish floundered past in the current, sometimes spraying him with river water. He didn't mind, though, as it cooled him when the green-leaf sun started to scorch through his velvety fur.

As he kept staring, a large trout started to swim upstream, trying to fight the current. Where a small wave lapped continuously in the river came to the large fish, it jumped, attempting to overcome its obstacle blocking its path. Cloudyfoot saw his opportunity once the fish landed . As the fish splashed in its other attempt, he crouched, preparing for a leap. And when the fish made its second attempt to reach upstream, he launched himself at it, grabbing it around its gills to suffocate it. Once it stopped wriggling and flailing in his jaws, Cloudyfoot placed it tentatively on the ground, starting a pile of many more fish to come.

From sun-high to sunset, Cloudyfoot was fishing, eventually ending up with two trouts and a salmon to bring to the camp. He gathered two of the trouts, and started one of his treks back to the clearing. He then came back, his mouth free of the fish that it had held before. Cloudyfoot then picked up his other trout and salmon, he strutted home, a proud glint in his amber eyes, his striped tail twitching with happiness.