Ashfur rolled over, onto his stomach. His opponent stood over him, pinning him down with his paws. "Gotcha!" the tom exclaimed, a victorious grin on his face. Ashfur feigned defeat, but after a few seconds, decided to make his move. He waited until the tom leaned back and released some of the weight on him, and used his back legs to kick up at his opponent's belly. The tom yowled and released him. He grinned, and circled around the cat. "Good fight," he said, and agreed. The tom held his own, and had Ashfur held down for a minute.
They walked back to camp, dead leaves crunching under their paws. The sun was out, but the weather was not warm. It was the middle of leaf-fall, and the wind was getting a little nippy. They heard sounds of kits playing, and ran to camp. Everyone must be awake by now. The two friends had left before dawn, as they usually did, and returned just as the patrols were being gathered and the kits, full of energy, were out and about.
Ashfur walked up to the leader of the hunting patrol, smiling to himself. This was going to be a good day.