Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-27350140-20151115151414/@comment-27041385-20151201114742

When Snakefang returned to camp, everything was normal. Well, normal for a dying Clan. Coughing, and the scent of foul sickness stung her nose as she placed her thrush on the fresh-kill pile. It wasn't exactly a successful hunt, as she was too distracted to concentrate. Hollowbranch was yowling to Frostpaw, and she could smell Rushingriver faintly. Snakefang sighed and grabbed a scrawny mouse for her stomach. Without a leader and medicine cat... everything was going wrong.