Brookkit turned around suddenly and almost collided with a furry, ruddy face. Fox! She jumped up and made for a tree as fast as her kit legs could carry her. Surely she couldn't' tout run a fox? A battle cry sounded behind her. She darted up the tree scrabbling for the nearest branch. Only then did she turn around to face the battle scene in the clearing. Thrushpelt, a warrior of her clan had tackled the fox. The fox was small, it was only a juvenile, and Thrushpaw had managed to pin it to the ground. He gave it a warning bite on the ear and let it go. Brookkit scurried down the tree, a scowl on her face. "Why did you let it go!" She yowled. "You could have killed it!"
"It was only a kit' and-"
"So you took pity on it?" Brookkit interrupted
"No. It Was only a kit, and it's mother should be nearby. Do you want a full grown fox to attack me? It won't be back for another moon. I'll warn Heatherstar and the rest of the camp. We'll keep an eye out for them." Thrushpelt spun around and stalked back to camp. Brookkit waited for a second, then followed a few tail-lengths behind. When she approached the bracken wall that surrounded the camp she began to hear a commotion. When she crawled through the tunnel into camp she could see cats running around everywhere. She ran up to her mother, Mossfoot, and asked her what was going on. Her answer seemed to coma all at once.
"..."
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