A blurred shape slid over the rocks, the color of dirty slush, blending in with the smooth grays and silvers. Sheets of rain lashed over the jagged stones and rippled over the foaming currents, the chill wind turning the curtains of water into a thin spray that soaked through his coat like icy needles.
Yarrowpaw stalked alone over Sunningrocks, tracking the red bundle of fur that bounced along the scent line, where the grass and ferns brushed up against the pebbled shore. Peculiar scents wafted over the border, the strong stench of another Clan burning his nostrils even in this weather. His eyes followed the squirrel as it zigged and zagged from RiverClan's side to ThunderClan's, and back to RiverClan, stopping just long enough to let his heartbeat quicken with anticipation before darting back over toward ThunderClan again.
Mouse-dung.
Such a thin line between honest hunting and code-breaking. He had to wonder if the prey could detect the difference in cat-scent, or if this was just him being taunted. That bushy tail led him on further and further up the slope, snaking up alongside the enemy scent markers, so tantalizingly close, but so infuriatingly far. Yarrowpaw stayed low against the ground, letting his belly fur brush against the wet rocks.
Just one leap away...
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