chapter three

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It was much colder the next morning and immediately, Adderheart could tell.

It was like someone had let a blanket of complete and utter chilliness fall upon them in the early hours of the day, where only a few dared stay awake — and those would likely only be the guards of the camp. Perhaps a cat or two would wake from their slumber in the apprentice's den from a terrifying dream, or a warrior would rise quietly for a late-night hunting trip, but generally, SageClan was asleep.

Even Cougarstar, who seemed to always be up to always watch his Clan and be sure that nothing was wrong, was asleep.

The cold that settled upon them was biting, almost sharp-tongued if it could speak. Yet, for some, it did speak, though not in a language they could understand. It whistled furiously through the air, dropping chilly gusts of wind around the pine-tree littered territory. It howled softly. If it spoke too loudly, it would wake leaf-fall far too early. It was reminiscent of a leaf-bare's mildest day, yet compared to the rather warm days they'd been having during greenleaf, it wasn't pleasant for cats with shorter fur.

Adderheart's own paleish, creamy-brown pelt wasn't necessarily too short, and not necessarily too long, yet he still preferred the warmth of greenleaf and late newleaf compared to the biting chill of leaf-fall and the even colder nip of leaf-bare.

Though as the cats began to wake up, the coldness soon morphed into more of a crisper feeling, one that swiftly and briskly twirled around the camp for a moment before skittering away. Leaf-bare would be enraged if it heard that leaf-fall was coming far too early. At least, that's what most of the cats in SageClan believed.

Most of them didn't mind leaf-fall too much, but leaf-bare was usually a hard few moons for the Clan. Of course, any Clan would find it difficult to survive when it was simply so mind-numbingly cold. Yet, SageClan seemed to have it the hardest out of any of the cats around.

It was a well-known fact that there were some loners and rogues that skirted the territory occasionally, and yet no matter how hard the Clan tried, it seemed almost impossible to fully rid themselves of the nasty little rogues that would dart in and out and never stop teasing warriors at the borders. As far as Adderheart could recall, there had been no official fights between them, and hardly any skirmishes for that matter – besides Juniperflight's incident. Hardly anyone spoke of that mishap.

Though, it had also been common to hear of tensions rising every few moons, particularly when it was getting closer to leaf-fall and leaf-bare. That's precisely how Juniperflight had died. The loners and rogues could survive the chillier months. They could travel as far as they wanted to try and get away from the cold. But some did not. Some stayed and bothered SageClan regardless.

Which was why most of the cats now seemed on edge about the loners. Most prayed that they'd finally be left alone, that they'd have one season pass without being bothered by the annoying loners or rogues, but the likelihood of that was low. It hadn't ever happened in the past; what would cause the loners and rogues to do so now? It was always a conversation topic that practically anyone could bring up and get immediate answers.

Adderheart managed to sit down outside of the warrior's den after pushing past the thorny entrance, a shiver trailing an icy claw down his spine. He rose to his paws, shaking out his fur — almost as if it would make him warmer — and he trotted carefully toward the fresh-kill pile.

On the top lay a mouse and a shrew, each of which had a light frost coating their pale brownish fur. The tom took the shrew and he shuffled over to the spot that he'd been in last night, settling down and curling his tail tightly around himself. He let his paw rest upon the shrew's form, hoping the frost would dissipate soon as he took the first bite of the shrew.

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