loners to clan // jump in

OMG! Too freaking cute!!!!

Snowy wanted to say that she already had a place picked out, and that everything would be straightforward, but that wasn't true. There had been no time to plan anything. "I don't know." She replied honestly. "I'm hoping I can find someplace sheltered, if possible." The truth was she had no real idea what to do to survive in the wild...outside of what Eagle had told her. "We need to find water." She meowed more confidently as her former mate's words returned to her. 

Adder let out a gruff snort of amusement. "Then maybe I should stay back." He purred. "If the kittypets see big fierce me lumbering towards them, they'll probably run all the way back to their twoleg nests." Though he was joking, he did wonder exactly what kind of reception they would get. And he wasn't entirely sure he liked the implications. 

The kit pressed himself tightly against the tree root he was gripping, fur bushed out in fear. He was an older kit, about 4 or 5 moons, with a spotted black and white pelt. He had no idea where he was. He had finally escaped that horrible nest, only to find himself in a terrifying and dark forest. His fur was shabby and littered with bruises, his paws hurt from walking, and he was starving. The tight twoleg tendril around his neck, shiny and hard, and of the same material as the fence, made things worse. He had tried to remove it, without avail. It was far too hard to bite through. Slowly, he let out a plaintive new, too scared and miserable to go on. 

Whisp chuckled at Adders comment. "Well maybe if you put a nice smile on your face, the kittypets would be as intimidated" she teased as they walked along. When Winter spoke up saying that she had heard someone the creamy molly left Adders side and moved up to the front of the patrol curiously, ears perked and straining to hear. Whisp barley caught anything but managed to hear the tail end of a conversation. "It sounds female", she whispered looking to her companions and then to Winter. Her tail flicked curiously, before she looked back at the undergrowth. "Hello, is someone there?" She called out.


Lichen was just about to bound after Fern, when the sound of a pitiful mew echoed through the forest. "Fern! Did you hear that? It sounded... like a kit?" He meowed in a surprised but confused tone. Lifting his nose up to the breeze, the tabby tom began to scent the air and sure enough there was the scent of a kit. Rushing forth Lichen followed his nose until he came upon the defeated body of a little black and white cat. Approaching cautiously Lichen spoke up, "Are you lost little one? Where is your mother?", he questioned. What mother would leave a poor defenseless kit alone in the middle of the woods. Sadly from the look of the kits appearance it had been a while since anyone cared for him.

Snowy's fur bristled apprehensively at first, but as the voices came closer, she relaxed slightly. They were clearly cats, and they didn't sound hostile. Snowy let her tail run along Rosy's spine, calming her down. "Easy, Rosy." She murmured. As brave as her companion was, she was acutely aware that if things came to a fight, they were severely outmatched, and in her current state, she couldn't run. "I'm Snowy, and this is my friend Rosy. Who are you?" She asked curiously, her tone neutral but guarded.

The kit looked up at Lichen with wide eyes. It was clear that he had been wronged in the past, because he didn't look like he completely trusted the older cat. Rather, he had no choice but to depend on him, and hope he wasn't like others he had known. "What's your name?" He asked tentatively.

"Its nice to meet you Snowy" Whisp purred with a smile as they drew near. The creamy white molly stepped even closer than the others to tentatively sniff out the newcomers. "I'm Whisp, and these are my companions Winter, Chervil, and Adder." She meowed in a cheery fashion as he pointed with her whispy tail to each of her friends. "What brings you out into the forest so heavy with kits? This is a dangerous place even if you know how to defend yourself." It was obvious by the queen and her companions soft scents that they were kittypets and from Rosys reaction unaccustomed to dealing with others in such a wild environment.

Yarrow shrank back into the bushes, watching the tortoiseshell she-cat catch the stoat faster than he could. He was still quite a distance and had only caught its scent before he heard the she-cat's pounce. He shook himself and walked backwards out of the bush then turned to be on his way, trying to catch more prey-scents on the air. His short sleek pelt slipped through the undergrowth easily without getting caught on the branches. He only caught the scent of multiple cats in the direction the she-cat went with the stoat. His tall ears pricked curiously, he hadn't seen more than two cats hunting together in moons. What kind of group is this? He started to pad downwind.

Yarrow - 31 moons - skinny long-legged tom, short white pelt with light grey on his front paws and ear-tips, dull yellow-green eyes

Yarrow slipped out of the undergrowth next to a stream and lapped at the water. It wasn't until he raised his head that he noticed a light gray cat sitting on the other side. A lot of cats around here... too many for hunting to be good right now, he thought. He looked both up- and downstream, debating on which direction to take.

Yarrow smelled vole and watched the she-cat across the stream catch one. He watched her begin to eat for a moment, his stomach aching as he turned to run upstream. He crossed the stream with a bound and entered another thickly forested area further north. He stopped and scented the air for prey. He crept up the slope silently, listening for anything.

Yarrow crept under a bush and froze when he saw a rabbit before him in a clearing. The rabbit turned its head towards him then went into a sprint, alerted by his scent. Already too late to stalk it, he gave chase as it ran back downstream to where the thick forest opened up to flatter ground, where he guessed its burrow might be. He pushed himself faster determinedly and leaped before the rabbit could reach an entrance in the ground, digging his claws into the rabbit's fur and dragging it backwards before he killed it. He let it fall from his jaws and crouched down shakily, trying to catch his breath.

Yarrow looked around the horizon cautiously for any sign of any other cat. He pushed himself to his paws slowly and tried to lift the rabbit but it was too heavy. He'd have to eat it where he was. He started to eat white gazing around nearly after every bite hoping no other rogue or loner would come challenge him for the prey, he knew currently he wouldn't be able to fight them off. He ate quickly, which eventually just made him feel even worse. He crouched and debated what to do with the rest of the rabbit. Picking it up in his jaws, he made his way slowly back towards the stream.

Yarrow carried the half-eaten rabbit to the side of the stream, wondering if there was some place he could bury it for later or if he could leave it for another cat. He jumped across the stream more cautiously this time and started pawing through some of the stones by the stream's bank. He pushed two rocks apart carefully and stuffed the half-eaten rabbit underneath, then covered it up again. He took another drink from the stream before padding over to the trees.

The white tom sank down under her weight into a crouch and rolled, attempting to shake her off. He hissed in surprise and bit into the fur of her shoulder, pulling to drag her off of his back. When he got free he started into a run down the bank of the stream, nearly tripping on a few stones in his hurry.

He slowed quickly, unable to run very far before he stopped on one of the rocks by the stream. Yarrow stared back worried to know if she had followed him, but she had given up. He growled at her remark. "It's not being scared, it's called picking your battles." he muttered. Feeling shaken he laid down on the rock, feeling the warmth of the sun as he caught his breath, but he kept an eye open in case the she-cat followed.