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Sunlight flickered and wavered though the dim cave, rippling like water. A loud roaring sound was always heard. At the mouth of the cave was a waterfall, flowing from the top of the mountain past the entrance and then flowed back as a river down the mountain. The air was cold and hollows were made in the walls. It ran deep into the mountain, some places there was barely any light.

Cats huddled throughout the cave, all scrawny. Whimpering of younger cats could be heard as they moped around, scavenging for food. Elders quarreled with Warriors over the prey they had. Some cats viciously fought over moss and hollows. A musky stench filled the air, the smell of sickness. Some cats lay, pressed against the wall in an attempt for warmth, coughing.

This was currently the Tribe of Rushing Water. It was winter and they had too many cats to take care of for this hard season. Patrols were constantly set out, to try and hunt prey if possible. Other cats scavenged for any remaining herbs to help the many sick cats. They always anticipated a good find, though it rarely came.

(~1~)