The RiverClan Mossball League

Reedheart sat in the shade of the warriors den, mindlessly watching the clearing. Everything seemed so gloomy. The ShadowClan cats never stopped grumbling, and he knew that RiverClan knew the foreboding meaning of ShadowClan's loss. Ever since they were kits, they had been told that ShadowClan cats were cold, vicious, ruthless... and yet they had been beat. Driven out like mice by an even crueler and stronger opponent. Reedheart felt his claws dig into his moss nest, still staring blankly out into the clearing. It was only when he looked down did he realize that he had torn it to shreds. The young RiverClan tom let out an exasperated sigh, staring at his white paws.

That's when a small warm breeze blew through, softly rattling the den. Reedheart breathed it in, filling himself with the fresh air. It was then, he realized, that was the first warm wind that he had felt in such a long time. Feeling strength pulse through his limbs, he stood up, rolling his paw over the scraps until it was a neat round ball.

Let ShadowClan complain.

With that, Reedheart smacked the moss ball as hard as he could, letting it rocket into camp and into the clearing.

And right into the side of Amalric's head.
He was sleeping, resting before a journey to Windclan. He hopped up quickly as the moss struck him, visually surprised. "Where!?" he asked, half asleep and dazed. The mossball landed next to him, undetected.

"Hey, Amalric!" Reedheart called from the other side of camp, lashing his tail as he stepped out from the warriors den. "Hit the ball!"

Amalric was a strange cat; his name, his scent, his lack of faith in StarClan... and Reedheart knew that Amalric didn't have a single ounce of Clan blood in his veins. Yet the loner's determination was admirable, as was his intelligence.

Hopefully he wouldn't mind a bit of a game.

Amalric turned to look at Reedheart, and then at the ball. That was the tom who had so much faith in that fake religion, and now he had hit a ball of what seemed to be moss over to him. Amalric placed his paw on top of the moss, feeling it on his pads, before swiping it to Reedheart. It curved a little on the journey there, but ended up at his paws.