a chance encounter.

Not a rabbit—no. Far from it.

Only one MeadowClan cat would dare venture so far into the territory without a patrol, especially so late at night. Ravenstep prowled through the underbrush with little care for consequences. What would they do to him now? He was already out and about; Graystar might give him a slap on the paw, but that was par for the course.

He'd never say it aloud, lest he get himself in even more trouble, but Ravenstep knew he could get away with nearly anything he wanted to.

There was nothing in particular that he was looking for. Rarely was there ever any kind of rhyme or reason to his little excursions; usually, it was just the lure of freedom that called to him. Sometimes, all he wanted was to dart through the territory alone, as fast as he could, for the thrill of it. Almost like he was flying.

The urge to run picked at him, and so he did. Despite his size, his steps were light and his speed was quick; he darted through the brush almost unheard—only the subtle sound of leaves rustling and twigs snapping would give him away.

The squirrel never had a chance. Without even thinking about it, driven only by instinct, Ravenstep launched through the brush and onto a squirrel. His pounce pinned the creature easily, his claws digging into it to keep it still and quiet. He didn't realize there was another scent nearby until the squirrel was already dead. His head swiveled, ears twitching this way and that, and he realized the scent belonged to another cat.

Not MeadowClan. Not any clan.

His chest rose and fell quickly as he caught his breath, pupils wide as he scanned the surrounding wilderness for any sign of life.