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Strides long and flowing, Brokenclaws pads swept up the ground, making not a sound as he went forward. His morning patrol had been rather uneventful, as it had been for some time. He strode to a slightly shadowed part in the camp and lay down comfortably, his grey head the only thing remaining up to look around him for other cats. He retracted and stuck out his claws as he stretched his front legs to relax before being sent out on another patrol, or perhaps a hunting party.
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