[gs29513]

Ah. The little shrew was yapping at her. Deadmoon did her best to keep the hurt from her face, though it was unlikely that the discomfort and anger was completely shielded. She wasn't aware that the individual to whom she spoke was unusually good at reading cats inner dialogues, but it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. Rigorous self control was never one of her major virtues. That was more Wolffang's territory. Or Rookscreech, when her friend chose to be mysterious. The angry words didn't bother her as much as they once might have, because she did have cats to hang out with. Rookscreech (though when had she last seen her friend?), Snowybreeze and Wolffang all put up with her. Duckpaw was required to, but she was still happy enough when they were training. Her social circle was as good as it had ever been, really. Though she doubted the grand total of four cats would really rank in Shrewstep's mind.

I am, in fact, alive. I'm surprised you haven't been crushed by a twig or something yet. she replied, for the first part was somewhat amusing. A jest. The sort of banter she would have employed with the two mollies he had also known. She didn't know how to respond to his second inquiry, for answering it truthfully might put her in a spot of bother. She didn't know to what degree he was aware of Rookscreech's movements, and didn't want to reveal what was not already known to a Shadowclan cat. Deadmoon settled for what she hoped was a relatively scathing I've plenty of friends thank you very much, probably more than you've got. If you were so popular you wouldn't be busy mocking your supposed allies, now would you? This seemed relatively factual. If he actually had a friend he'd be with them, probably boasting about how many minks they were going to kill.

Anyway she continued, somewhat on a whim I think it tends to be your clanmates who join us. Something about the constant murder and fear doesn't agree with civilized individuals. But if that's your kind of thing, I hope you enjoy it. Somewhat mindful of Dawnstar looming near their group she also lowered her voice. She had seen that cat kill many, many of her clanmates, and had no wish to be the next one because she was being mouthy to an arrogant little rodent. With her piece said she redirected her attention to Hawkfur, pleased that she would be free of the yapping during the important business of the patrol.

She was assigned to the left valley, seemingly with only one Shadowclan warrior. Their new ally had made an effort to be cordial at least, and Deadmoon returned a stiff nod of her own. Wolffang was to be on the other side of the valley, and Shrewstep going into the tunnels. About right for a shrimp like him. She followed along after Briarsplash, watching the molly intently. She had seemed nice enough, but Deadmoon didn't feel comfortable classifying her as safe to exist around until they had more pressing problems, ie the minks, to deal with. Not that they were any safer.

Hawkfur and his group did their job swiftly, more rapidly than she had expected. She had barely gotten into some sort of vigilant position when the yowling began, and a river of black and brown bodies began flowing down from the hills. She could see Wolffang charging into them across the valley, and Hawkfur heading toward her and the other cats on the left side of the ridge. No time like the present. A sudden wave of nerves hit her. What if this went wrong? What if something happened? What if what if what if? Deadmoon had things to lose now, many things to lose. But it didn't seem like she had a choice of whether she faced her fears or not. A mink had gotten ahead of the group, running into their position, lunging indiscriminately at her. She raised her front paws instinctively to bat it away, hitting it somewhere with her clawless foot.

It landed hissing, turning on her when it saw she was its impediment to freedom. One mink. She could handle this, surely. This time Deadmoon engaged, rushing forward in tandem with it and swinging the clawed paw at its head. She struck but stumbled as her steps were made uneven by the terrain and shorter leg. Thus her turn was slow, and the lithe mink was fast. Before she had turned it had sunk teeth and tiny claws into her side, clinging on as she twisted and tried to reach back for it. She wasn't quite flexible enough the first time, and hissed as it bit at her again. More frantically trying to rid herself of the stinging pain Deadmoon finally managed to grab it, pulling it off of her side with her teeth in its shoulder, though a small quantity of her fur went too, trapped in its claws. She flung it as far as she could manage (not far, it was rather heavy) and took a brief look around, before redirecting herself to the task in front of her. Kill that little rodent.