(Thanks wolfie. ;3 )
Foxpaw carried in his last peice of fresh kill from the hunting patrol. He spat it out in the pile and glanced up at the darkening sky. He shivered, and lifted his muzzle to scent the air. Sure enough, he knew it was coming. The rain. His tail twitched, thinking of it, muddy paws, floods, freezing temperatures. Oh, he just couldn't wait. Foxpaw glanced around and led off towards the apprentice den. He poked his head in. "Sweetpaw?" He asked quietly. He hadn't seen her for a long time. Climbing through the flap, he fluffed up his nest in prepare for the long, cold night.















