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Ikoria the Wolf Pup
The air was brisk and clean below the canopy of ancient oaks, and the muted rattle of dead leaves in the outstretched branches warned of leaf-bare's descent on the forest. Falconpaw inhaled deeply, the musky scent of autumn leaves flooding her nose. The smoke tabby apprentice preferred leaf-bare. She enjoyed the cool, refreshing air and the crunch of frost against her paws. The young she-cat had left the camp to quench her thirst at a small stream weaving through a rocky ravine. She stepped carefully, neatly bounding between boulders and down to small stream. She lowered her head to the water and lapped up the frigid spring water, lemon yellow eyes closed, feathery tail twitching behind her.
Falconpaw had barely taken her second sip before the wind was knocked out of her lungs.
The young cat was knocked into the water, beads of water clinging to her coat. She coughed weakly, startled, standing in the shallow stream, pelt bristling. With dread building in her chest, the she-cat looked up--into the face of a massive, snarling badger.