through a glass darkly (o)

This was quite possibly the worst idea in the history of the Clans.

Another long day of walking had finally come to an end, leaving Paledove’s paws sore and limbs aching. She was in no shape to endure such a long journey, much less chase down kits at the end of each day and scrounge together nests for tired warriors, but that was the way things were, she supposed, and there was precious little she could do about it. Flicking her tail, the old queen took a moment to groom down some of the muddy, disheveled fur on her chest, grumbling under her breath. Stars preserve the unlucky cat who caught her gaze while lazing about in the last rays of sunshine; Paledove was on the warpath, and anycat she found standing by idly would be skinned alive. Verbally, at least- there were days when she was sweet as poisoned honey, but today was not one of them.