SkyClan was starving. What glorious freshkill he had managed to bring in one day had turned into naught the next, and beyond the edges of camp lay a frosted wasteland indiscernible from the one amidst the clan's first leafbare. There was too much to worry about and too much to do, but one thought kept him going - whatever happened, he would not let his kittens live in a world where they would first feel hunger instead of love.
Paws felt weighted like boulders dragging through the snow, and, as Silversmoke feared, little had been around. Other predators had hunkered down, prey had either frozen underground or did not traverse the pine forest as readily as they had done before. Yet the spotted tabby had kept pushing and pushing, further and further until the flakes blinded him and his ears scarcely felt safe even pinned to his skull.
It was worth it, he told himself as he returned to camp with those boulders heavy enough to make him feel like a slug. Even for a meager rodent, it was worth someone getting fed.
As he passed through the camp's entrance, Silversmoke dropped the mouse onto the withering freshkill pile, Silver and white blended upon a coat that protected him against the cold, but not a blizzard, and as he completed his mission, they too felt too much of a burden to carry upon his spine. 'Return to the warrior's den... to the Nursery... to the...
He curled up in the middle of camp, shivering, glazed eyes watching his catch as if grieving when it would inevitably be taken.
/ caught a mouse (1 point), showing signs of chills
