Frosty stared up into the boughs of a young oak tree. He stretched out a paw and unsheathed his claws, feeling them fasten into the tree’s rough bark. Before he knew it, he had bunched up his back legs and sprang onto the tree. Making sure his back paws were firmly imbedded in the tree, he unhooked his front paws and clawed up. Satisfied with his grip, he suddenly rushed upwards, making it to the higher branches. Once there, he draped his slight form onto a branch three times as thick as himself and laid his head upon his paws. Frosty stared around at the forest. The sights, sounds, and smells were so much different from the city...
As he thought about this new turn in his tree, he gradually drifted off to sleep, completely unaware of the mighty clan who’s territory he had warily trespassed into.