Lightningpaw yawned and padded out of her den. The camp was lit by tendrils of pale light and the air was crisp. Lightningpaw sighed softly. Goodbye Green-leaf. Hello Leaf-fall. It wasn't that she minded, in fact, she quite liked Leaf-fall. But the prey was going to be scarce soon. After all Leaf-bare came after Leaf-fall. The cold was going to drive all the prey underground. She shook out her fur, deciding to forget about it for now. There were more pressing matters at hand. Like her rumbling stomach. She padded over to the fresh-kill pile to select a plump mouse.
