Ivypool

   A Night. A light wind gently and softly sways the branches of the old oaks. A strong chill crept through the fur. The new moon, bending its white, round muzzle over the clans, seemed to look down on the tiny creatures. The father thrush, having arrived on a branch with a caterpillar, carefully fed his chicks a treat. There was a dead silence.. Only the faint hooting of the hunting owl sounded above.     There was an incredibly pungent scent of several cats' marks in the air. Why not follow them?     Step, step, step, and step again. So the crickets have started singing their songs, I'm looking for new partners. So calm, pleas..    JUMP! A lean, slender figure appeared in front of you. She smelling like a female cat... Abruptly, `°Ivypool°´ deep blue eyes stared at you