Moors don't favour the vertically challenged

After her recent (and very, very tiring) chase of Downtuft, Mishka had decided that she needed to get better at running, or just generally being on the moors. Anything that would make hunting a little bit easier. After all, if she expected Windclan to adapt to Asylum rule, shouldn't she try and adapt to their territory? She had no idea how she could get faster at running, especially since she was so short, but a little practice couldn't harm. But she didn't dare go out alone, so trailed behind another patrol. If anything happened on the moors and she was alone, she knew that it wouldn't end well. She would always have other Asylum cats to protect her, since she could barely fight herself. 

Maybe there's a reason they never taught me how to fight properly. No. She couldn't think things like that. But after living with Windclan for a while... it had opened her eyes to other ways of life. If we had never came here, Gingertalon and Goldengale would still be alive. And I wouldn't be thinking things like this. It was probably just Windclan putting ideas in her head right? If only I could talk to Edie. She'd tell me what I should do.

Her thought train abruptly cute off as she noticed the nightstriker at the camp entrance. To her, it almost felt like he could tell what she was thinking, so instead she only focused on the hunt ahead. A safe topic. She knew that no cats could possibly read minds, but it still gave her an uneasy feeling.