Even Cats Dance in the Rain

[*Sinister*Dreams*]

A gruff voice sounded from the back of the warriors den.
"I am absolutely one-hundred percent positive that you've gone insane."
Cannonecho grumbled, pushing himself deeper into the den as he looked on.

Sparrowcry had taken to pouncing at imaginary predators in the pouring, drenching rain. Her gray fur was plaster, fluffing out at odd angles. Yes, she was a warrior, but yes she did still enjoy what she considered dancing in the rain. She gave a massive chuckle and bounded over towards Coldfire, padding circle around the tabby tom.

"Warriors don't /dance/ Sparrowcry. Not that anyone's ever needed to be told that."
He pulled himself back, while the she-cat chomped lightly on his tail, looking very kit-like and made him yelp.
"Ouch!"

"Dance with me. It's called fun, you lazy furball!"
She glared around the clearing, searching for ner next victim.

[Marrowbone]

The rain carpetted the area so thickly, distant images were obscured, even the mountains were just a faint smudge in a grey horizon. A group of cats shuffled in through the entrance tunnel, the hunting patrol returned. Most of them went over to the prey pile with their offerings to the Clan, but one padded towards the middle of camp with hunched shoulders.
Cockle was one of the Rogues brought here by Darkstar, and not many cats were happy that she was one of those involved. Cockle had been involved in raids on the camp before, and was very verbal in her disgust of Clans and also very useless. Most of CrescentClan avoided her.
While she walked one would notice a ridgid posture, sunken whiskers and limp fur. She was positively soaking, and her non-waterproof-fur clung to her frame like a tick to skin. And she was very loud in her displeasure.
"What a stupid place to live. Haf'ta swim all the time, got these slimy 'ittle fish to eat, raining constantly, all this mud, gettin' stuck in it look at this my beautiful tortiseshell fur-- It's dyed by that mud! Bleck!"