Can't quite tell what I'm hoping for [s]

Stormdance shivered as a cold breeze passed through the air, cutting through his thick fur and making him blink a couple times. He went out for a hunt, wanting to replenish the fresh-kill pile which never seemed quite full enough these days. He realized, knocked out of his thoughts as he had been, that he had zoned out completely. He tsked to himself. "Some warrior you are," He scolded himself, irritated with how little he had been paying attention to his surroundings. He could've easily had wandered into one of those twoleg traps or been ambushed by a predator. All those lessons to Rowanpaw and Woolywing about keeping their wits about them and minding their surroundings for dangers, and what was Stormdance doing? What a poor example he was. At least there was no one around to witness his fumble.

With a sigh, Stormdance admitted to himself that it was Rowanpaw that had his thoughts drifting so much. It was Rowanpaw that had subconsciously guided his paws closer to the twolegs. It was a foolish thing to do, especially right now, but Stormdance still found himself scannning the walls of the twoleg building in the distance, hoping that if he just looked hard enough he'd see a flash of orange fur or a fox-like grin. Of course, there was nothing, just a dangerous building with twolegs probably nearby.  He sighed and backed up, turning around to head back closer to camp. 

In truth, his mind and heart were heavy with thoughts of all of their missing clanmates, as well as what he had witnessed with Perchstar none too long ago. He felt helpless; useless. Unable to find his missing clanmates or protect the ones left, unable to help Perchstar when the stress of everything had caught up to her, and unable to even go on a simple hunt correctly. Stormdance's claws flexed, frustrated with even this indulgence of self-pity. He certainly wasn't going to help anyone like that. He shook his head, scanning the under brush for signs of prey before he could lose himself to his train of thought once more.

It was then he spotted it. A flash of color- red? - so fast that Stormdance was half convinced he imagined it. Paws moving before he could think, Stormdance moved towards it, ears perking up and a tiny bubble of hope rising and growing in his heart. "Rowanpaw?" He called out. Even in the moment, he knew it was a silly hope. That didn't stop him from moving forward.

And then a high pitched squeak, a weight slammed into Stormdance's side, and sharp, vicious teeth lodged into his back leg. Stormdance yowled in pain, the teeth digging right into the scars from the fox attack so many moons ago. He twisted around with a hiss to face his attacker, finding a squirming brown weasel latched into the flesh of his leg. From certain angles, the sun almost made it's fur look red. Stormdance would reflect on the irony later. Stormdance's claws unsheathe and he brings them down across his attackers pelt, drawing blood and fur as he tried to shake the weasel off. 

The weasel used gripping bite, dealing -7 damage and costing -15 SP! It will stay latched on for [1/2] turns.

Stormdance used front paw strike, dealing -8 damage and costing -7 SP!

Weasel
12/20 HP (-8)
120/135 SP (-15)

Stormdance
43/50 HP (-7)
173/180 SP (-7)