Post by everscale on May 6, 2013 19:17:42 GMT -5
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Fogheart woke in the dark, his fur standing on end, quivering with shock and fear. He lay perfectly still for a long moment. In the silver moonlight, which barely slipped through the crack in his rock den, every leaf and every twig seemed coated with a thin layer of frost. For one paralyzing instant Fogheart thought he had leapt out of the ice of his dream and made it real in his life. As soon as the fog of sleep wore away, however, the medicine cat realized what was really turning the forest a strange shade of silver.
With a low groan, Fogheart gathered his dappled legs beneath him and came to his feet. He stretched, spine popping back into place. He had slept what seemed like such a short time and yet he was so remarkably stiff. As his jaws gaped in a yawn, Fogheart slipped out into the cool morning air.
Dawn was on the wind, and soon the camp would begin to stir as the first warriors of the day went out on patrol. Normally Fogheart was fast asleep, or at least dozing around his den with a piece of fresh-kill, when the dawn patrol left. It seemed that this morning, Fogheart would already be sorting through his herbs in preparation for his own daily hunt.
Padding his way over to the fresh-kill pile, Fogheart stooped and picked out a single plump mouse. It was enough food for one cat, especially considering he did not spend his days in battle training, or do much - if any - of the hunting. Carrying the morsel over to the entrance to the fern tunnel that lead down to the medicine den, Fogheart curled up on a cushion of damp moss. He tucked quietly into his mouse and waited for the sun, and his clan-mates, to rise.