Sharptooth shivered as she padded down yet another rancid, dank alleyway. The rain that poured from the sky seemed akin to slime compared to the sweet-scented dew that fell throughout Thunderclan's territory. The short-legged rogue found herself jumping at the slightest sound- the shifting of various bits of Twoleg Debris made her arch her back defensively. She was in a completely new territory, different from anything she had ever seen. There had been a time where Leafstorm and Specklefang had regaled her with stories of their time spent in Twoleg territory, but Sharptooth had always brushed them away as nothing but a bad memory or a wispy, half-forgotten dream.
Now she was living in one.
The fluffy she-cat struggled to find shelter, her growling stomach and sodden pelt only adding to her nervous mood. She flicked her tail, sending droplets of water flying into the air. She couldn't smell anything nearby- although she wasn't entirely certain that wasn't because of the rain, trash, and all the other dreadful things she had smelled thus far.
Sharptooth tried to shake off the water that soaked through her fur, reflecting dully that only a Riverclanner would be able to brave this storm and remain unscathed. "If only I had eaten more fish..." She'd heard from Lionspark that the oil from the fish's scales made a cat's fur sleek and water-resistant. It was one of the many things she had learned from her late grandmother.
She sat down with a frown, gazing into a puddle with a sullen expression. Its surface glimmered, iridescent and colorful as drops of water pounded the flat, black dirt around it. There would be no prey to catch around here, fish or otherwise.
With a sigh, Sharptooth accepted the inevitable and eased herself into a sleeping position, curling her tail around her face in an effort to shed some of the water dripping onto her nose. It was a useless gesture, but it made her feel a tad more secure. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that she was lying safely in the Nursery with her mother, her siblings crowding around her. Leafstorm would emerge out of the cold with a slightly-soaked squirrel and a grin. Sharptooth nearly smiled at the thought.
______________________________________