Across the Moor (anyone)

[Lake [is very depressed]]

Thick blades of grass swayed against their brethren, claiming entire hillsides of the moor where the wind faltered during green-leaf; a chorus of rustling that was difficult if not impossible to completely tune out.
In the dark green hues of the grasses, it was difficult not to be spotted when one had a pelt brighter than wet snow- blending against the rocks or keeping low to the ground seemed to be the only option, unless Brightpaw wanted to roll in mud, which was anything but admirable. If she ever wanted to become a warrior, she'd have to prove herself against the odds and against the inconvenience of a cream-colored pelt.
Her tail hugged the crevices of the gray stones where she hid, the brown tip twitching slightly. The scents of prey were heavy, but hidden between the stone layers.
A gray form was nibbling on grass seeds only a fox-length away, but she dare not move. It crept closer, seeking the drier seeds that lay uphill-only a whisker-length from her jaws. The mole seemed blissfully unaware of its impending end.
As it came within striking range, the she-cat stunned it quickly with a blow, then sprang, biting hard at the base of its neck. A shrill squeak was cut off and he hung limply from her jaws.

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[Lake [is very depressed]]

-closed for lack of replies-