Thistle opened his mouth, trying to keep track of his prey. Nutmeg wanted to see how well he hunted without the stupid rattling ball on his collar; which they had just got off a little while ago. He had found a thrush that kept flying a tail length or so, then stopping. What if I hold my tail up a bit, maybe the thrush won't hear me. Thistle has noticed that every time his tail barely made a noise when it touched the ground, the bird would move farther.

He spotted the grey bird. It's bright white belly made it stood out in it's brown and grey surroundings. It stood on thick branch under some cedar trees. Thistle nearly lost sight of the obvious bird as he pushed through a holly bush. The bird turned to look at him as the bush rattled. Thistle jumped at the thrush as it tried to take off. Nearly missing it, he clawed the thrush, throwing it back to the ground. He quickly grabbed it's neck, snapping it before it could make another call.

"How was that?" Thistle mumbled through the thrush's feathers as he padded over to the clearing where Nutmeg sat.
"Good, but next time, try to be a bit quieter. So you don't have to change hunting spots." Nutmeg explained. Thistle had found out that the she-cat was about two to three moons older than him, which explains why she knew so much about hunting. Thistle sat next to Nutmeg and put the thrush down between them, so they could share it.

"I bet I'll be you to our dens!" Nutmeg challenged after they had finished the prey.
"No fair! You know you can run faster!" Thistle told Nutmeg.
"I'll take it easy on you, ready?" Thistle nodded, he quickly pushed off the ground, getting a slight head start. He dogged trees and leapt off of various shapes and colors of moss covered rocks. Out of the corner of Thistle's eye he seen the fluffy calico keep up with him easily. He pushed through some brambles and into a mossy grassy clearing. He pushed his paws harder into the dirt, kicking up bits of moss and dying grass. He knew that he could gain speed here, where his broad shoulders wouldn't let him in the trees. Thistle darted in front of Nutmeg. He had purposely headed slightly away from the camp, hoping Nutmeg would follow him.

He darted quickly away from the confused Nutmeg, approaching camp quickly. He followed the well worn trail, snaking around turns. Thistle heard Nutmeg right behind him, slightly panting. I don't think you need to take it easy on me! Thistle thought. It wouldn't be easy for Nutmeg to pass him, running next to him wouldn't work. It was a tight trail that some cat had found awhile ago, barely wide enough for a wide shouldered cat to pass through. The tall dirt and stone walls loomed over any cat. The trail had been made by the small stream that ran underneath Thistle's thundering paws. It had worn away the earth for many seasons.

The only other option would be to jump up onto the earth above the trail. In addition to taking to much time to ready a jump in a cramped space, it would take longer to weave between the trees then just hoping to catch up at the last moment. Thistle knew where he was at. Only about a tree length away from their dens. The opened tunnel took another sharp turn, nearly throwing Thistle off balance.

Yes! Thistle thought as he approached the final stretch of the tunnel, Which opened up near the back side of Birch's den. Thistle gave a slight glance back, looking at Nutmeg, who was deep in thought. Thistle looked ahead again, nearly tripping over a root in the dirt. Thistle heard Nutmeg grunt with effort. A white, brown and black blur was above Thistle. He quickly followed it down until it ran in front of him. It was Nutmeg. The fluffy she-cat had leapt over Thistle to get ahead of him. The trail opened up, the stream leading away to the other side of camp than Thistle's den.

Nutmeg gave a triumphant yowl as she pranced in the outskirts of camp. Thistle slowed down from his run. Most of the cats where in the clearing, either talking, eating prey or sunbathing.
"I win!" Nutmeg held her tail high as Thistle walked into camp panting.
"Cheater." Thistle said out of breath.
"There wasn't any rules other than to be the first in camp to win!" Nutmeg walked next to Thistle on their way to their dens. Thistle looked around camp, Birch was padded his way. It looked like she had gotten done talking to a small group of cats. Not wanting to talk to her, Thistle looked away and padded quicker to his den, Nutmeg catching up next to him, confusion clouding her brown eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, Thistle saw Birch bound over quicker. She ended up beating Thistle to his den, a heartbeat before he dove in.

"Did you bring me any prey?" Birch asked, a snarl nearly seemed to break through.
"No, I didn't know you wanted any." Thistle looked through his recent memories, just to make sure that he hadn't forgot. Not that I can remember.
"You should've anyway." The snarl took control over Birch's voice.
"Tell me next time, I'll get you something." Trying to avoid conflict, Thistle tried to push into his den. Birch shoved him, nearly making him trip.
"I'll give you something to remember next time!" Birch yowled. A hard flash of pain griped a side of face. Birch had cuffed his ear with claws unsheathed. Hissing in pain, Birch lunged at him, throwing him into the dirt clearing. He opened his eyes and saw the tan she-cat lash her claws at him. He shoved his paws forward, hoping to escape the battle scarred cat's claws. He felt one forepaw hit Birch's leg, the rest hit the ground. At the first chance possible, Thistle pushed himself to his paws. He looked down at the flailing she-cat. She quickly found her paws, but stayed on the ground.

"If it's a fight you want, I'll give you one." Birch didn't finish her snarl of a statement. She leapt at Thistle. He fell on his back, knocking the wind out of him. Birch held him down with a paw on his chest, claws threatening to slice into him. She looked down at Thistle, her face had a snarl with a slight smile to it. Thistle flinched. The battle scared tan tabby lunged at him, her teeth heading for his throat. Within the split heart beat, Thistle held his breath as he felt her teeth grasp his neck. She didn't bite hard, not even enough to hold his skin and fur. She grabbed ahold of his collar.

Thistle felt her re-grip. The tan, battle scared she-cat looked him dead in the eye. Her golden eyes burned in to his with a sinister glow to them. She quickly jerked her head upward. Thistle's neck popped, which made his heart skip a beat. He barley heard Nutmeg's cry as Birch yanked again. He barely notice that his hind legs where hanging under the She-cat's belly. With as much force that he could muster, he thrusted his back legs in to Birch's stomach. He flung her off, another loud snap came from his collar as it was tore from his neck. He didn't think it was the chilly weather, but his neck had a burst of cold hit it, where his collar once was. Without thinking about it, Thistle rolled himself to his paws. He turned around to face Birch, only problem was that she had found her paws quicker, and rushed at him with claws unsheathed.