Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-24038939-20160207214233/@comment-27669385-20160207224129

Thistletuft jumped and turned, bristling. Pushing past Burningsky, he trotted into the leaders' den, trying to keep calm. He crouched in the dark den and felt the leader's pelt. It was ice cold. No breath stirred his muzzle as he gazed at the leader's face. He shook his head. "They're dead." He mewed numbly.