Sparrow rushed through the leaves, twining about trees, heading 'south' as the travelers called it. He could tell this because the now dipping sun had reached a corner of his vision, but was not straight ahead of him. He worried the Little-Claw he still held might fight back, for he could tell it was awake, its heart thudding against his ear furs. Her displeased mewling struck him straight in the heart, and the wolves weary paws begged him to stop, feeling cracked and dry against the moisture lacking grass. In fact, he had found the larger plants had thinned out since passing around the meadow in retreat, the ground was much more dew ridden than before and the thick canopy overhead was more thinned out than usual. He remembered this decline of nature in reverse, as of coming away from their mountain home; so they might be headed towards a rock formation of sorts. Perhaps there would be a new start for him after all!
Ideas buzzed in his head and scoured across his brain, but was interrupted with a sharp pain in his right pad. Careening to a rough halt, he dared set the little creature down in the spidery tendrils of earth while he tended to whatever the source of his discomfort might be. He edged his left paw in front of the pup in hopes to keep it nearest himself.
     "A thorn.." he grumbled crossly, spotting the little needle of a thing stuck to his pad, he leaned forwards to unhinge the annoying burr when he picked up the noise of pawsteps, and noticed the little furball wandering away in a dazed legs wobbling from lack of activity. If they got away, he could catch them later to bring them farther from the threat, if he was lucky, the thing might stay and keep him company. He was sure it wouldn't make a good meal, nor would he eat it if it did. As he yanked the annoying little seed out of his paw with a small trickle of blood, tossing it away left him relish.
Of course, however, the thought of food suddenly made the small wolf's stomach curl, he hadn't eaten anything but that morning, surely he shouldn't be hungry, but the little white haired feline may have been, for she was smaller than he. Noting this quickly, he turned his gaze in the direction of the young little-claw pup, who had managed to get herself indignantly stuck between a clump of bramble. It might sting her slightly, but if it kept her in place while Sparrow hunted, it was the most he could ask of the Spirit-Wolves.

POV Switch
'Stupid wolf! Why did they up and take me?! Where am I!?' The kit thought in a daze of panic as she found herself wedged between two bushes when attempting to escape. The thorns dug into her pelt but not enough for pain, however the tendrils locked her in place. Horror overwhelmed her further when she saw the great, lumbering grey and brown beast stalk away. If they brought her this far, what was the point?! Just killing was the job of the invaders, and now she couldn't even help. Despite this, she had to feel slightly thankful in some way, because the last thing she remembered was a deep russet canine crushing the elders den frames, and it toppling over with her, a larger stick hit her head and darkness enveloped her clouded vision from there.
     "So hungry.." she complained spitefully, longing to escape and try to hunt down a mouse or two; her stomach lurched and growled in agreement with these thoughts. "And confused!" Locustkit hissed, lifting her head to the sky angrily, "HEAR THAT STARCLAN?! YEA. JUST WANTED TO THANK YOU FOR KEEPING THE CLAN SAFE" she bellowed sarcastically, pelt rippling with upset and emotion, not daring to move too much or the horrid thorn filled brambles might dig further into her skin. "MY PRAYERS PAID OFF HUH?" The kit yowled upwards again, her voice cracking and slipping into a hoarse whisper, "Mom might be dead, everyone might be dead... And I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere... With a wolf. Yea. Thanks a lot."
     She might have lowered her head with sorrow, but even that would have pained her. Why her? Why now? None of this made sense, and in a case that this ugly overgrown dog was nice, she still couldn't imagine staying with it. Nothing could hold her back now, because there was no way to even try tracking down her problems. There wasn't any way to do it! No way to save her cats, her clan, her kin or her friends, because her ancestors failed. They utterly, miserably failed, and she hoped they lost hope in their own existence. Locustkit spat bitterly, eyes narrowed to slits, thinking grim thoughts of her gruesome, shriveling end after being entangled in these forsaken bushes.
     "I hate this..." she muttered, "So very much." Her very mind seemed to fold in on itself, all futures she fantasized with Plumkit were dead as he was. All chances of ambition swept away like morning mist, any hopes for her path struck down like the Log Perch back in IvyClan. This may have been truly pessimistic thinking, but in all ways still true.
     "I miss Plumkit.. That mousebrain.." the white furred kitten added glumly, thinking with guilt of how her last words to him had been so hateful, she called him a foxhearted coward, and he probably died thinking that their destiny no longer intertwined, that he was no longer loved, and it was all her fault.
     "I know." Replied a voice softly.