[Wishing to no longer think of her burning woods and the wretched traitor Tigerclaw--she would never call him Tigerstar-- she leaps down from the woodpile and poises herself to dart after her scaly prey.]
[She waits. And waits.]
Resilient little mite, isn't it? It doesn't want to die any more than we do.
no subject
[She waits. And waits.]
Resilient little mite, isn't it? It doesn't want to die any more than we do.