Time stops {closed}

Slowly and carefully, Featherpaw felt his way down the path and finally made it. Now he was safe to adjust his hold on the crow once more by the wing so he was less likely to damage the feathers underneath.
"Now all we have to do is pluck." He explained as they reentered the camp. He set the crow near the apprentices den and carefully grabbed a feather. He pulled it sharply and it came out cleanly. The long black feather soon joined by a couple more. "Weave these larger ones on the outside, when your nest is done, we'll probably be in the clear to eat it ourselves. It looks like hunting has been well enough today." He meowed, looking back to check the fresh-kill pile. While it wasn't over-flowing, it was decent enough that all would have a share. Without the feathers, the crow itself was bound to be quite skinny.

Featherpaw made it down safely, and Daypaw turned to continue when he reached the bottom. They trotted back into camp carrying their supplies, a spring in Daypaw’s step. They stopped near the apprentice den, and as Featherpaw dropped his crow, Daypaw turned to set down her moss. When she turned back around the tom was already plucking the feathers from the bird. She was glad when he said they could eat the bird, because her stomach was beginning to rumble.

She helped her friend pluck the bird clean, all the good useful fluff removed from it. It looked quite silly without its feathers, all of its grace lost. She picked up her moss and as many feathers as she could fit in her mouth, and moved inside the apprentice den, weaving her way back to her nest site. She dropped the supplies on the ground and started by placing the moss.