Ibisfeather leaped gracefully up into the air as she snapped a quail's neck. Another catch. Moorstripe will be pleased. She padded over to the fresh kill pile and dropped the bird in. "Thrilling catch, aye?" A cool voice mrowed. Ibisfeather looked up, eyes narrowed slightly. "Fowlstorm." "Exactly.," Now the brown and white tom gave her a hard stare. "Coalstar would like to see you, pretty." He brushed his fur against Ibisfeather's. She closed her eyes, sighed, and padded over to the leader's tall gorse den. "Greetings, Coalstar." Ibisfeather's eyes widened and she took a paw back. "O-of course."