"Wake up!"
Mintleaf winced at the nausea pounding through her. She managed to open her eyes a slither, but she didn't move her head. Everything was blurry. She groaned. "Don't move." The voice came again. Now she could recognize a toms' voice.
She stung all over, but forced her eyes open with another groan. Everything was unfocused, making her head pound harder, but eventually it adjusted. She caught sight of a brown tom staring down at her, with white markings and green eyes. He looked pretty nice.
"What happened over there? I saw you laying in the snow. I almost thought you were dead!" He meowed, sniffing her pelt. When Mintleaf didn't reply, he twitched an ear absently. "Well, I guess it's none of my business." He added, glancing to the right. "Feather, I told you she's no harm." The tom meowed. Feather, a grey she-cat, was sitting in a corner, staring at them with blue eyes.
Just then she realized she was inside a log, tucked in a hollow one laying on some moss. Feather sighed. "Sparrow, remember what happened last time you were too soft on newcomers?" She meowed. Sparrow rolled his eyes. "Not every cat will be the same." He muttered. Feather stuck out her tongue and huffed. "She doesn't even belong here. Just an extra mouth to feed."
Sparrow suddenly turned on her, his eyes blazing. "Then you wouldn't have kits with me, would you have? They would have just been extra mouths to feed, right?" He hissed. Feather flinched, her eyes glinting with pain for a moment. "Ignore her." Sparrow snarled quietly, gazing back at her sharply.
When Mintleaf's senses started coming back, she lifted her head and sat up, surprising Sparrow a little. "Kits?" She meowed warily, glancing around. "They're out hunting." Sparrow explained. "Hunting? They must be too young for-" She paused, realizing Sparrow wasn't a young cat, and he must have had kits more than a couple moons ago.
"Oh. I'm starving." Mintleaf meowed absently. "They should return soon, with about enough to feed us."
