Post by Flightfoot on Jul 7, 2018 17:38:19 GMT
It was mid-day, the sun shone down uninterrupted into the clan's territory. What little snow was left was perched on the top of the grass, holding on for dear life. A sigh escaped the tall, gray she-cat as she examined this. She missed when the territory was blanketed in mounds of snow. She carried on though, walking towards the much disputed line between her clan, Iceclan, and Treeclan. She sniffed the line, trying to find any traces of trespassers knowing full well that herbs were hidden nearby. When she detected none but stale scents that had already been handled, she remarked the old line. Flightfoot suddenly swiveled her ears around as she heard rustling nearby. She slowly turned her head to look behind her and narrowed her eyes. "Who's there," she called, the fur on her back raising. She tried to catch a scent on the breeze but cursed as she realized she was upwind.