Even in newleaf, the overwhelming stench of Carrionplace filled the nostrils of every ShadowClan cat, and Foxstar was no exception. He may have grown accustomed to it, but he never appreciated the smell of rotting carcasses while trying to scarf down his breakfast. His green eyes wandered around the clearing, as they often did, and he found it uncomfortably empty. Did I really order out that many patrols last evening? Foxstar certainly hadn't meant to. The prey was running rather well, a change of pace. There was no need for more than the usual amount. In fact, by the time the sunhigh patrol came back, there might not be any more room on the fresh-kill pile.

Foxstar decided he would lead the dusk patrol for a change of pace. The leader found early on in his service to ShadowClan that sitting around camp all day made for a rather boring lifestyle. Where was all the excitement he'd experienced as a warrior? All those hours spent chasing prey, sharing tongues, battling sessions with his apprentice. Maybe that was it. Foxstar had been contemplating it for a while now, taking on a new apprentice. Perhaps it would remind him of his youth, make him feel renewed. He knew he wasn't anywhere near getting old, but he knew it would happen eventually.