[Midgefur]

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The sun hadn't come up yet; the forest was awash with the dusky blues and greys of the night but the horizon was a thin line of pale blue, barely visible even from the top of the Oak. A light dusting of snow littered the ground, but the air was damp and mild enough for any snow and ice to melt after the sun made itself known. It had been a relatively tame Leafbare that Lionstar was more than thankful for, as the last two had whittled down the clan to barely anything. From his perch on one of the high branches, he gazed down the trunk to the knotholes where the quiet sounds of sleep echoed. Camp was peaceful, but soon enough the first dawn patrol would have to be sent out, and the freshkill pile cleared off for the day.

As quietly as he could manage, the cream tom slunk down from the tree, pausing whenever he thought a branch might creak, until he reached the middle knothole, the Warrior's den. Lionstar peeked inside and let his pale whiskers fan out as he looked for the first cat to stir, but everyone seemed to be deep in their slumber still. Backing out, he continued gracefully slinking downward until he reached the ground, where the Leader gave a quiet yawn and lifted a hind leg to contentedly scratch his chin.