Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1178972126/ Morel squealed as her siblings scrambled over her to reach the vole their mother had brought them. “Not fair!” She hissed, attempting to squeeze herself in between her siblings. Once she’d reached the vole, she began tearing at the skin to reach the meatier insides. Morel could feel her strength returning after a full day of traveling; they’d finally made it to the barn. Their mother – Dove – told them it was the comfiest home they could wish for – and she was right, This place felt warm even in the frosting season! Morel purred and dragged herself over to sleep beside Dove whose soft fur comforted her. She almost fell asleep but her siblings – Moss and Dew – moved in next to her. Morel growled as they took up almost all the space, pushing her against Dove’s forearm. She opened her mouth to protest but realized Dew had already fallen asleep, with Moss snoring gently next to her. Whatever! I don’t need sleep! She thought. She jumped out of her uncomfortable position, and heard a thump as she hit the hardwood floors. When they see that I can catch prey at night, they’ll be jealous for sure! Morel shivered, the cool night breeze ruffled her soft, kit fur. Moonlight touched the snow delicately, making it glisten. There was no sound but the rustle of swaying tree branches and the occasional owl, calling out for its mate. “It’s so beautiful.” She breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. In that moment everything felt so peaceful, she almost dismissed why she’d been out here, she’d almost forgotten the frost piercing her nose and weaving around her whiskers. It took an enormous amount of effort to bring her gaze away and focus on her real mission – hunting. Her sigh let out a puff of steam as she continued, trekking through the frozen undergrowth. How am I supposed to smell in this cold? Morel’s nose hurt like she’d just sliced it on a thorn, she couldn’t even tell if she did; dead bramble whipped her face, any cut they left stung as it was left to face the harsh temperatures of the frosting season. She began to long for the warmth of her mother’s belly. But suddenly, a scuffling noise sounded from in front and she realized there was a small, grey, shrew picking through a batch of dead reeds. Morel knew she had absolutely no experience hunting but somehow, without making a noise she leapt up, almost got snagged by a hanging branch, and landed straight onto the shrew. Morel could feel her entire body plummeting through the thick snow, the shrew’s warm body could be felt under her paws however, meaning she’d successfully trapped it. She bared her teeth as she sunk her claws into its soft flesh, and then grasping it in her jaws she managed to pull herself to the surface of the snow. “Wow! I just caught my first ever prey!” She exclaimed out loud. ----------------------------------------------------------
