Lightpaw stretched, padding out of camp. Moons past and the young she-cat was 11 moons old. 

She was on a hunting patrol with her mentor and her mother.

She slowly crept in, pouncing on a mouse. She bit its throat.

Suddenly, caterwauls and yowls split the silence.

She scraped dirt over the prey quickly, bolting back to camp, to see blood and pain all over.