Snow muffled the gentle rustling of a leafbare breeze through the forest. The moon peered out between gaps of quickly-moving thin nighttime clouds, reaching fingers of pale light through tendrils of fog weaving between the trees. All was peaceful in Thunderclan's camp.
In the apprentices' den, the air hung hot and still over their heads. Every cat was silent aside from the occasional snuffle or snore. At a glance, everyone seemed to be peacefully sleeping– resting in preparation for what would surely be another day of endless chores and exhausting training.
Everyone was sleeping, save for Sunpaw. Rolling over for what felt like the thousandth time, he huffed a sigh of quiet annoyance, eyes snapping open. His fur prickled. It was too warm, too quiet. Whatever exhaustion he'd felt earlier today had utterly dissipated. Now, his paws itched with unspent energy.
Moments passed. Tail-tip twitching, he rolled again. The night stretched on. Somewhere, out in the world, an owl called.
He pushed himself suddenly to a sitting position, certain he'd go mad if he tried to force himself to sleep any longer. Carefully, carefully, he eased himself out of his nest. He would just step outside the den for a moment, cool off, and then go back to bed.
Sunpaw's plan to silently and gracefully extract himself from the apprentices' den was instantly foiled when he trod directly on the tail of one of his sleeping neighbors. He winced, jumping backward as quietly as he could, and peered over the edge of their nest, praying to Starclan that he hadn't awoken them. "Sorry," He breathed, on the off chance that he had.
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