Snowdrift slowly awoke, glittering sunlight shining down on him through a crevice above. Blinking his blue eyes against the blinding glow, he took in his surroundings, snow spraying from his head as he lifted it.
Where am I? The white tom thought in alarm, leaping to his paws and scattering snow from his pelt. He glanced around frantically, his gaze resting on Streamflower's curled form. Before he could ponder any further, memories came pouring back into his mind like a waterfall, and with a relieved sigh he sank to his belly. He and his mate had ventured off on a journey to find the brightest star. It had been nearly half a moon since they had set out on their travels, and the previous night a vicious blizzard had struck. He and Streamflower had been forced to take cover in a shallow ravine to remain from freezing to death, but it had only provided a small amount of shelter against the blistering wind and raging snowfall.
Snowdrift gave a shake of his head, huffing a sigh. Glancing back down at Streamflower's sleeping form, he touched his nose to her forehead. Crouching down and fixing his gaze to the blinding sky outside, the white tom pounce into the air, his paws scrabbling against the ledge before he hauled himself out of the shallow ravine, shaking scraps of snow and dirt from his bright fur.
Emerging into the snowy landscape, the white tom let his gaze scan over the frosted ground, trying to decide where the best place to hunt would be. The positive side to no longer living in a clan was that he didn't have to worry about caring for twenty other cats. It was just him and Streamflower.
But that doesn't dismiss the fact that I miss them. He thought to himself, his head bowed for a brief moment. A few faces flashed across his memory, and he gave a bitter smile, but his heart cracked and his face fell as he remembered Littleshine's lifeless body, crumpled and bloody in a hollow of jagged rocks.
With a pang of regret coursing through his veins, Snowdrift gave his fur a brisk shake. The white feline lifted his head and tasted the air for prey. The strong scent of frozen water bit at his nose, like hundreds of little needles stabbing at it. Along with the smell came a warm gust of wind, signaling the near end to leafbare. Wrinkling his muzzle with a small sneeze, he detected a squirrel further along, and prowling forward he tried to pinpoint the scent.
As he searched for the animal, a sparrow darted across his path in midflight. Before the bird could soar out of reach, Snowdrift reared onto his hindlegs and swiped it out of the air, its terrified cry filling the former warrior's ears. Flattening his ears against his head, he dragged down the bird and dispatched it with a firm bite around the neck, its wings battering at his face crumpling and growing lifelessly still.
Panting, Snowdrift dropped the bird to the ground and licked some blood from his face. The bird was scrawny and feathery, not much meat on its bones but enough to fill a cat's belly for a few hours.
I'll give this to Streamflower. Snowdrift told himself, crouching to the ground to dig a small hole. Once done, a shallow dip gaped ahead of him, and the tom dropped the sparrow inside before kicking soil over it. Turning back to the squirrel trail, he snuck along with his fur smoothed along his spine. The only part of him that stood out in the snow was his blue eyes, sharp and intent on finding his prey.
He spotted the squirrel only moments later, it's head high and alert. An acorn hung loosely in one of its tiny claws, a small hole gaping in the ground ahead of it where it had scraped relentlessly for the small morsel of food. It's breathing was quick and rapid, it's head bobbing with every breath. It's tail twitched sharply, and it lowered itself to all fours. It abandoned the acorn on the pure white snow, ready to make a bolt for the trees.
Just a little further. Snowdrift thought determinedly, his heart beginning to race as his haunches stiffened with strain. The snap of a twig behind Snowdrift quickly alerted the rodent, and with panic-stricken eyes it darted towards the cover of a tree.
Snowdrift growled in frustration, his blue eyes sharp with anger as he bolted after his prey. He was faster than it, but it had already gotten a head start. Scrabbling at the trunk of an oak tree, the squirrel bounded up it, out of Snowdrift's reach. Staring down at him with narrowed beady eyes, the squirrel chattered angrily.
Lashing his tail, Snowdrift looked up at the squirrel. "I can't believe it." He growled to himself, shooting a look to where he had been crouching before. Padding back to investigate what had snapped the twig, he sniffed along the snow covered ground, the icy liquid crunching beneath his paws.
The faint smell of cat could be traced among the snow, and a small growl rose in Snowdrift's throat as he followed it to where he had buried his sparrow. Before him lay a scattered hole, and inside there was no sign of the freshkill.
Wrinkling his nose, he lowered his head to the ground and sniffed around the uncovered hole. Certain that a cat had stolen his catch, he turned and trudged back to his temporary den, shoulders hunched and head low, with his tail trailing discouragingly along the ground.
Leaping down into the shallow ravine, the white tom landed with a small thump. Casting his gaze along, he realized that Streamflower's nest was empty.
She must've gone hunting as well. Snowdrift thought to himself, huffing a sigh. He flopped to the ground and rested his head on his paws, disappointment visible in his flattened ears. What kind of a mate am I, not gathering enough food to provide for the two of us?
He looked up at the sky through the crevice above, sunlight beaming down on him. They would have to set off in their travels soon. Growing worried, he rose to his paws once again and pounced out of the hollow, scrabbling at the ledge as he quickly hauled himself up.
Tracking his mate's scent, he followed Streamflower's trail before discovering her crouched amongst the snow. Not wishing to disturb her, Snowdrift sat down at a distance, seeing that she was tracking a squirrel.
The gray she-cat crept forward. Her ears were pricked with concentration, and she placed her paws delicately against the snow laden ground. She moved at a slow and steady pace, stalking from upwind of the prey. At a well-measured distance, Streamflower darted forward with a small yowl, slamming her paws down on the squirrel before it could move as much as a whisker. The prey was dead within moments, clamped tightly between her jaws and growing quickly limp.
Unable to contain his pride, Snowdrift rumbled a small purr. "That catch was outstanding!" He commented, rising to his paws and trotting over to the gray she-cat. He gently butted his head against her shoulder, and dropping her squirrel Streamflower smiled back.
"Thank you, Snowdrift." She replied, her mew soft and full of affection. "What happened to your catch? Surely you would've caught something after being away for so long."
Snowdrift's happy mood faltered for an instant, and Streamflower immediately took notice as a frown creased across her features.
"Some rogue stole my freshkill." He growled, his eyes narrowing. "I was about to catch a squirrel, too, when they decided to carelessly stomp around! They were like a badger."
Streamflower let out a small laugh, and Snowdrift shot her a puzzled glance.
"I'm sure they smelt like one, too. Luckily for us, I caught this," she prodded at her squirrel, which seemed quite rounded. "And it's ought to be far better than something you'd have caught."
Teasingly, she stuck her muzzle into the air. Snowdrift let out a mock growl, and launched himself into her, knocking her to the ground in a spray of snow. Yowling in surprise, she batted him away, and the two took off across the snow in pursuit of the other.
Snatching the squirrel, Snowdrift raced into a small cluster of trees, hiding in a bush while Streamflower streaked past him. Grinning to himself, he watched as she looked carelessly around. He was sure they'd scared off all the prey from there back to the lake, but he didn't care.
Placing the squirrel silently against the ground, Snowdrift wriggled his haunches. Streamflower was steadily growing closer, her honey yellow eyes flashing with a kitlike excitement, and her tail held high behind her.
Gathering his muscles, Snowdrift exploded from the bush, the crusted remains of leaves shattering in the air as he slammed into Streamflower's side, knocking the she-cat to the snowy ground. Spluttering as mouthfuls of snow was rammed into her mouth, Streamflower shoved Snowdrift away, who reared to his hind legs with an amused mrrow.
"I gotcha!" He trilled triumphantly, settling back down into a sitting position. Streamflower wrinkled her nose at him, forcing herself a frown.
"Mouse-heart." She grumbled, a purr hinted in her mew.
Snowdrift padded back around and grabbed Streamflower's squirrel, dropping it at his mate's paws. "You have the first bite." Snowdrift offered, blinking at Streamflower with kind blue eyes.
Streamflower snorted, shoving the squirrel back in the white tom's direction. "No, you should have the first bite." She insisted. "I caught it, so you can eat some before I do."
Snowdrift quirked his brow. "And where's the sense in that?" He meowed.
Streamflower shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't care. If you don't eat, I won't eat."
Snowdrift opened his mouth to object, but thought better of it and bowed down, tearing a strip of meat off the squirrel. Swiping his tongue across his jaws, he blinked teasingly up at Streamflower.
"There you go. Are you happy?" He rumbled. Streamflower's whiskers quivered thoughtfully.
"I suppose I am."
She crouched down next to Snowdrift, and the two shared the rabbit, their affectionate gazes full of content.