It seemed to Minkpaw that her life had been simply a series of disasters, one after the next... not just for her, but for WindClan, and even to some extent the other clans, too, though Minkpaw rarely bothered herself by thinking of them. The famine, the relocation, the sickness... Smallstar's disappearance. And just when they'd started to settle into the lake territory, the wolves had come. Minkpaw remembered that night in excrutiating detail... the sound of ghastly howling, the flash of fangs and the scent of blood in the air. The red tabby was not an easy cat to frighten, but since that night, sleep had found her only reluctantly, and when it did, often it was fleeting and interrupted by dreams of massive, snarling beasts.
The lack of rest, accompanying the travel through this incessant cold, had left the apprentice in a rather foul mood, though she tried not to take it out on her clanmates. They were struggling just as much as she was, Minkpaw was sure... and as long as they had each other, they'd make it through this. The clan had stopped for the night, to find shelter before darkness fell, but Minkpaw wasn't interested in sleep. So as the others milled around, sharing prey and settling down, the she-cat swept her gaze across the crowd, looking for someone as bored and restless as she was.
