Pebbleclaw exited his den, growling as he hit his head on the way out of the make-shift hole in the ground they called a den. His clan bad been recently attacked and forced to move far away, and they never really settled in anywhere. He wondered how long it would take for them to leave this place. It was nothing like the wonderful home they once had- there had been lots of trees, and many many bushes. The hollybush was the most common, and as such his clan had been named. At least, that's what the elders told him. He looked around the hastily made camp, and sighed. His clan was depleted, and all the elders were gone. He spotted the dawn patrol coming back in, jaws empty of any prey. He knew that they protected borders rather than hunted but he had hoped... His belly growled and he lay down by the small fresh-kill pile.