Frostpelt stalked slowly up to her prey. It was a lizard, a little bit scrawny, bu this leaf-bare, any fresh-kill would be welcome. It shambled sluggishly off the large, flat stone it had been lazing on and suddenly scrambled away. Hissing, Frostpelt blew her cover and raced after it at full pelt. The lizard didn't stand a chance. She sprung in front of it and swiftly snapped it up in her jaws, killing it instantly. Her run-out, however, had probably scared all the remaining forest prey back into their burrows. Frostpelt scowled. When she came to the fresh-kill pile, her dismay grew further. It was no more than a few mice, a snake, and a dozen fish, most of them minnows. Frostpelt dumped her catch on the pile and skulked away. 

"Hi, Frostpelt!" 

Her brother, Stemthorn, was nestled in a bush, tail twined with his mate, Brightspot. She dulled her glare a little. "What is it?"

His ear twitched. "I... Um... Do you know where all the fresh-kill went?" 

Frostpelt sighed. "Leaf-bare is eating it all up! There will be none left for us!" 

Stemthorn shook his head wearily. "There were at least three water voles on the pile, and a rabbit, and some more fish. But you wouldn't know. You went hunting too. Could you search the border and see if another clan has stolen prey right off our pile?"

"Alright." Frostpelt meowed. Although a waste of her time, she might get the time to look for her parents. Rougues too, but they has disappeared as soon as she and Stemthorn were born. She had never told any cat this, but she didn't believe her parents were dead. They might have abandoned her, but she had always thought it was for a good reason. Now she wasn't so convinced.

she padded through the undergrowth alongside the LightningClan border. When no fish smell was scented,  she left it and checked the FieldClan one. As she patrolled it warily, searching both for scents and rougue cats, she collided with a FieldClan patrol. Spottedtail, Bushleaf, Longweed and Butterfly were checking the round stones that marked the border, and adding in stunted pebbles of their own. Spottedtail's gaze met Frostpelt's, Amber against blue. Finally, Spottedtail looked away, and Frostpelt could tell her pelt was hot. "What are you doing here alone?'

"None of your business."

"I think it is. Your on our border."

"I think I'm on my clan territory, so back off."

"Loiterer!" Longweed hissed.

"Kittypet!" Snapped Frostpelt.

The FieldClan patrol froze. 

"You'd better stay off our territory." 

Spottedtail warned, tense.

"What are you going to do, give me to the twolegs?" 

Challenged Frostpelt, her fur bristling and her eyes flashing.

"Hey, can we all just calm down? What are you even fighting over?" 

Butterfly was perched on a high stone, her tail flicking agitatedly. All the other cats stopped bickering and settled with shooting daggers at each other through glaring eyes.

Frostpelt turned away from the FieldClan border. It would be silly to ask such annoyed cats if they were stealing prey. She padded across to where RiverClan territory met CliffClan. Still no scent. As she turned back, unable to help her brother and her clan, she scented a strange smell. Fish... A rougue! She followed her nose eagerly, away from CliffClan's mountain and toward the deeper forest. She warily swept her gaze across the stretch of bush, searching for any possible threat. Or one of her parents. As she pushed deeper into the dense foliage, Frostpelt heared a friendly meow. 

"Do you know where FieldClan is? I'm lost." 

An amber-eyed tom with a white pelt and black ears was nestled in a nearby shrub, his ears perked up. 

"Who are you?"

Frostpelt asked, wondering if he had stolen the prey.

"I'm Pouncer. I need to come back to my clan."

"Well, I'm a RiverClan cat, and I'll lead you back home,"

The tom's eyes brightened.

"If you catch prey for me. I need six pieces of fresh-kill."

Pouncer shrank back a little. "But- I- Okay, I'll try. But I'm not good at hunting."

Frostpelt shrugged, though she did feel like she was being slightly cruel, forcing an innocent cat to hunt for her. She pushed the thought away. She was doing him a favour. In the mean time, she started to hunt herself. Quietly creeping amongst the undergrowth, she quickly spotted a fat shrew, gorging itself on ants from a nearby mound. It didn't see her as she stalked forward, her paws close her her sides, her belly flat on the ground. Slowly, she moved forward. When she felt she was close enough, she merely struck a paw out and knocked the shrew senseless. Frostpelt bit down on it, and it let out a final squeak before going limp, dead. Dumping the dead shrew under a fern, Frostpelt scented something familiar. A snake. Dark and dangerous, it slithered towards her, threatening to draw her blood. It wasn't poisonous, but could send her straight to the medicine den. As it came closer, she prepared her strike, unsheathing her claws. When it was in her reach, she sprung forward, slashed her claws across it's reptilian head, and killed it. Two pieces of prey for the clan. Next she caught a mouse, missed a blackbird, and ate the mouse.