Brittlekit dashed through the camp, letting the marsh soak around his paws. Rain was cascading down mercilessly, drenching the young tom and his sister. "Help us! We're being attacked by hurt-y, wet, cold, rain!" He screeched, skidding and floundering around, trying to find a den through the thick rain and fog.
Hazelkit hurtled after him, her paws streaking across the ground. Her silver and brown pelt was streaked with mud, and barley visible as it grasped her pelt tightly. She felt tight and stiff with every bound, wincing as her pelt gripped tighter, and tighter, and tighter..Soon she was struggling to find the meager-est amount of breath.
3/12/2012, 5:46 pm
