With the sun just starting to spread its light across the sky from the East, Burrpelt decided that his early-morning hunt was to draw to a close. It took him some time to collect the kills he'd made: a squirrel, three mice, and a starling, all of which were cached at the various parts of the forest in which he had hunted them. When he scraped the thin layer of dirt and leaves off the last mouse, he struggled to take hold of it, for his mouth was full with the rest of his kills. All of the fresh kills hung from his teeth by their tails, and the squirrel's fluffy tail gave him a mouthful of fur that made it hard not to spit these all out. 

Still, it was with his tail pointing straight up in the air that Burrpelt made the return to OakClan's camp. There was something about hunting the wild creatures of the valley that was far more satisfying than pouncing the chubby mice back at the barn. With an air of pride and satisfaction, he entered the clearing which his Clan called home and deposited his catches on the fresh-kill pile. To have that squirrel's tail out of his mouth was more than a relief. He passed Hawkclaw on the way and nodded his greeting. 

One ear swiveled to hear his leader taking a seat at the bottom of the tree where his den was. He took the starling and approached Oakstar with a dipped head, gesturing his respect. "I think the time has come to organize a border patrol," he said levelly. "It is still so early in our existence, and I worry BoulderClan may try to expand their territory." He placed the bird with a gentle air at the leader's feet. 

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Like her brother, Screefoot was an early riser. Just before dawn, she stretched and stepped carefully, so as not to disturb her fellow warriors, out of the den. The air outside was cold and crisp, a relieving transition from the stuffy body heat of the warrior den (though she was grateful to have warmth, especially after that winter). She sat outside the den and closed her eyes for a while. She wasn't exactly asleep, but she was very zoned out. 

When she returned to reality, the sun was out and she scented her apprentice. Ears pricked with surprise, she padded to Harepaw with some degree of hesitation and nodded in greeting. It felt strange to be a mentor; she was still getting used to the whole idea. There was also the fact of the young cat's personality. She hoped that she would be able to get him into shape, make him worthy of warriorship. 

"We should have a lesson on hunting this morning," she ventured.