Lost Creek Hollow Once I Get a Grip

Curiosity overcame Shadowpup’s shyness and fear when she heard the roughhewn voice of a stranger cursing loudly from inside one of the dens. As a young child, Shadowpup was relatively oblivious to any drama or politics happening between Riverclan and its neighbors.

Bonario would have been able to spy her bat-eared head poke around the mouth of the den, backlit except for the glow of her yellow eyes.

“Are you okay, mister?” she asked with a voice so quiet that it could have rivaled a mouse’s.