The Son of the Morning [Open]

Though moons had passed since the Dark Forest was defeated, Darkspirit still had a sharp eye out for anything that looked out of the ordinary. The arrival of Shadowclan, sodden and pitiful looking, had done little to temper the young tom's foul mood. Thunderclan should only be taking care of itself, not whatever sob story came mewling to their border. Darkspirit had isolated himself from his clan, only working and barely speaking. He couldn't stand the sound of his name. He couldn't stand the fact that Stoatstar had given him a permanent reminder of what he was, or where he came from.

A mouse darted passed him and Darkspirit whirled on it. He smashed it ruthlessly beneath his claws and dispatched it. It hardly had time to squeak. Burying it by some curvy tree roots, Darkspirit went back to his solo routine, his tail lashing as if he'd missed. He crept through bushes and kept his ears alert for anymore prey, or any intruder. The winds that whipped by held a touch of chill to them, reminding him of the dreadfully long leafbare that he'd endured for most of his early life.

His fur bristled. He half expected red-eyed shadows to come leaping out at him with the coming of the cold... or maybe a pale, blue-eyed ghost...

The member 'Tara' has done the following action : Dice roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 2