fringe paw

It was an October morning, the season of bare leaves was just around the corner. Marshpaw slowly stepped through the tall, yellowed grass, the icy air blowing in her face, but suddenly the scent of a stranger hit her nose. This scent was unlike any other Clan, which meant one thing: a Tramp. Marshpaw approached the proto-path, staying in the grass, hugging the ground as low as possible. The cat began to look around, hoping to find the stranger, when suddenly a black-and-orange she-cat emerged from the distance, a dead field mouse in its jaws. When the strange cat came closer, Marshpaw jumped on her back, pinning the stranger to the ground . "Stranger, what right do you have to hunt on WindClan territory!?" Marshpaw hissed, turning the strange cat around.