A hunt for white feet - !DRABBLE!

Whitefoot's paws skimmed over the grass, his breath coming in rapid pants as fear and adrenaline filled his body.

His claws, which he had extended for traction, caught on a twisted root just poking above the dirt and forest debris. His tail swept wildly back and forth as he tried to right himself,

cursing internally.

A shrill yowl sounded behind him, and his pupils dilated.

He came to a stop in a pile of leaves, his body now twitching as he attempted to inhale shallowly. The leaf mold created an unbearable itch, but Whitefoot held on to his control.

The yowls sounded again, and he swiveled his highly trained ears to track it. Twenty paces... No, maybe thirty. Enough to escape?

Hesitating for only a moment, he extended one snowy paw outwards, placing it gingerly under more leaves, muscles taut and ready for the most discreet sign of attack.

Nothing. Perfect silence. He gave thanks to Starclan and slunk forwards with renewed vigor. Big mistake!

There was nothing solid to meet his paws, and he found himself falling for the second time, down into an old badger set.

Disgruntled and slightly fearful, he collected himself. In his smugness at his attacker's failure to notice him, he himself had failed to notice the trap he had walked into and set for

himself.

He swallowed thickly, hearing the noise of his persuer drawing in close, and banished his thoughts. No time for regrets now.

Thump-thump--thump-thump--thump-thump.

Weather he heard the the beat of his heart pounding in his ear, or pawsteps on the forest floor, he didn't know.

Whitefoot's back brushed the wall of the den, causing dirt to rain down on his head. No escape.

His eyes narrowed and his claws flexed, bracing every muscle in his body for the impact. His resolve was steeled. He was ready.

Two golden orbs appeared at the entrance of the den, glowing brightly, mocking him.

No, he couldn't do it. He just couldn't face the horror of it. His eyes squashed shut, and he drew one last steady breath of musty air, relishing the peace.

He was immedietly bowled over by a small cat.

"Found you, found you Whitefoot! I found you! I told I would! I won!" A tiny voice squealed.

He groaned in annoyance. "Yes, yes, I know you did."

"I said I would and I did! You owe me two mice! You said so, you did! I'll tell Eagletalon, and Snowyface, and even Thistlestar! It'll be soooo cool!" The kit continued on and on, blatantly

ignoring him.

He sighed, picking up the kit by the scruff and began carrying him back to camp, occasionally muttering 'Yes, Redkit,' 'Of course, Redkit', and 'Me? Sarcastic? Noooo.."

But he might have been proud. Maybe. Just a little bit.

FIN

''I was tired and wanted to write a little something. No particular time, place or universe (though I had ShadowClan in mind with the naming) :) -Oakfeather, The ultimate Warriors Fantard (talk) 06:33, June 26, 2013 (UTC)''