It was leaf-bare, and snow lay deep over ThunderClan. Graystripe was always hungry. "Just one bite," he said to every mouse he ever saw.
The fresh-kill pile was empty. "Come on," said his best friend Fireheart. "Let's hunt." Graystripe's ears went straight up. "Just one bite," he said hopefully.
Out in the white forest, Graystripe heard scratching under the snow. He pounced. He sank all the way in, until only his tail stuck out.
Fireheart laughed so hard he fell over. Graystripe popped out with snow on his nose. "That was the biggest mouse in the whole forest," he said.
So Graystripe tried again. This time he crouched low. He waited. He did not even wiggle his tail. The scratching came closer, and closer.
Pounce! Graystripe came up holding the biggest mouse he had ever seen. It was almost as big as his head.
All the way home, the mouse smelled wonderful. "Just one bite," said Graystripe's tummy. But Graystripe kept walking.
In camp, old Speckletail was curled up in the cold. Two tiny kits peeked out of the nursery, thin and shivering. Nobody had eaten all day.
Graystripe put the mouse down in front of them. "Just one bite," he said. "Each." The kits squeaked and dug in.
At the end there was one small bite left. Speckletail pushed it to him with her nose. "Just one bite," she said. "For you."
