Mackrel studdied her paws carefully, and opened her mouth. "She never really liked me, you know.Nver. It's because of my strange pelt colour. She wasn't that colour, and neither was our father. She was talking to some other cat one day when we were kits, and I overheard her. I'm wierd Thorn. And I'm named after a fish. A fish, of all things!" Her voce had grown to a wail, and her head had raised, but once she finished, it hung low again, and her body shook visibly.
Littlestreak didn't say a word, but with her eyes closed, it was obvious that she was enjoying the closeness of the tom. When she opened her eyes once more, they glowed with her happiness, and she couldn't care less about hunting.
