Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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Morning mist still lingered in ribbons between the pines from the morning's drizzle when Kosmo slipped beyond Whitehart's manicured suburb to where the trees were numerous but evenly spread. It was a half wild place where his gait took him to the line of road that flanked it.

"Over the road is the home of ThunderClan." He murmured over one shoulder, allowing Jasper to draw alongside rather than trail behind. "Their dawn patrol would have gotten a little wet..." But his eyes weren't on the border and instead focused lightly on the undergrowth.

He paused beside a cluster of low-growing vegetation to pause briefly to study it. He turned a few of the leaves over with his paw before moving on. His chin tilted over a mushroom path growing vertically over a tree and his half tail lashed behind him.

"Where do you think a cat's strength comes from?"

Grace is effortless when born into it.

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Pausing outside the threshold of the tree-cut place, Laetitia smooths the pristine tufts of fur of her coat, taking a quiet, apprehensive breath before stepping out beyond her gilded domain into that of Tangleloon’s. She had travelled here time and time again to visit the chocolate coated tom and it was quite the time indeed. She enjoyed the visits and would often speak of many things. However, meeting Tangleloon so many times gave her a peek into his own world as well. Needless to say she was intrigued in such things… and tempted, but a world of the clans was unlike the Von Noons. She was unsure how she would be greeted if she asked to join them. So she made the choice of silence on the matter, at the moment anyway.

When she met at their usual spot, Laetitia noted the lack of curly fur as she sat in wait. She wondered if Tangleloon had made it fine at his clan, or if something else had happened to him. However, the wait gave her more time to think of the idea. There were no vets in the forest, and winters would be cold without the comfort of a warm blanket to cover her on the coldest nights. Diseases… injuries… bloodshed… she shook her head, it was a lot, but she was sure that was only a small part of what being a cat of the clans was about. Not all, just enough to put a normal pampered cat off, but she was no normal pampered cat.

And so, she stood in wait for her friend, wondering what topics the two would explore this day. If any at all, part of Laetitia simply enjoyed the warmth of Tangleloon’s presence. Even if it was short lived. His presence would be enough for now.

Tiptoe through the murk and mire
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Duskmantle's ears flicked as Nightwhisper confirmed what he'd already begun to suspect and purposefully followed after her. "That's my thought too."

The scent trail threaded deeper into Whitehart, weaving between fences and Twoleg dens. Duskmantle kept his pace measured though his tall strides quickly closed the distance Nightwhisper had gained. The rogue had traveled confidently through this place, it seemed.

The warrior slipped through a gap between two fences and emerged onto a narrow path bordered by trimmed grass. The scent pulled onward as the Thunderpath split... He motioned with his tail where words fell silent and lowered his nose. His head turned towards a den with a water feature, half sheltered by shrubbery.

Scents ended eventually...an sometimes, cats were waiting at the other end. Both warriors teetered on a dangerous edge of satisfaction. The scent was getting stronger as they neared. "We're close."

 

Sparkling silver-white bones shimmered against a black backdrop that still allowed the sight of their fur beneath it. The cloak was held at their chest by a cat skull-shaped clasp with long fangs and accented by their black collar decorated with little studs and shiny silver spikes. Their human had taken great joy in their earlier adorations of Morgan, before they finally, finally let the marbled tabby be.

 

And so now they were—quite serenely too—lounging on the warm stone pillow held by a statue of a human with bird wings sprouting from their back.

Survival demands caution, but greatness requires daring
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The streets of Whitehart still carried the scent of hot salt and smoke even this far from the smoking human den. Kosmo moved, pace unhurried, along a cracked sidewalk, paws relatively soundless lest he catch some stray gravel. A shadow followed him, unhindered and free although it was Kosmo who now relished his share.

A raven descended, the great black bird landed on a sleeping monster shell. In her beak dangled a pale oblong piece of meat, pressed unnaturally. A human treat already pecked at, it looked like.

He could already imagine the scene... Some distracted human lost its meal and now they would profit. The raven hopped down from the monster's hood and landed beside him, dropping the meat before giving her feathers a satisfied shake before pecking at the tom with familiarity and flying off.

Kosmo had picked up the meat with a purr. Few knew the hidden path he slipped through between two leaning boards and continued to his destination. Tall grass enveloped him as he neared the old oak, ivy climbing its trunk. This place belonged to no one save his own stash, one of many in the surrounding area as he slid forward, dropping the chicken 'hotdog' at his paws.

There wasn't any barking dogs. No human voices. Everything seemed quiet.

Righto mate!
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Quoll blinked, staring at the outside that sat beyond his home. His Fur was out doing whatever it was those creatures did when they climbed into the rumble rooms. Honestly the young tom couldn’t care less. He was far more interested in watching the outside. It was different from what he remembered back at the old home. He was almost sure that the long time inside had changed the way the outside was. Yet, the lack of most familiar scents had Quoll frowning. Surely even if time had changed the way it all looked, he would at least be able to smell the tracks of his friends as they passed through? Come to think of it, Manny hadn’t even tried coming in when the Fur was gone.

Quoll frowned at the realisation that he hadn’t heard or seen signs of any of his friends in a long time. He had no clue how long it had been since he was locked in, but given the fact that his fake mouse seemed quite a bit smaller than when he’d last gone out, he assumed it had been a long time. The snow mink bengal opened his mouth and scented the air, frowning once more at the lack of recognisable scents. Even plant scents were missing, though the tom had no names for what was missing. The weight of the flap on his head was beginning to become bothersome and Quoll debated backing up and staying inside until everything changed back to what he had liked. The desire to feel grass and a breeze, however, won over and the young tom finally, cautiously, stepped outside.

The pale tom took his time, sniffing everything as he went and watching for anything dangerous or familiar. He stared over to the back right corner of the outside and a sadness stole over him. The outside also looked completely different to how it used to. The smooth barkless tree that the magpie always sang from was completely missing. Not to mention that the border looked odd. It wasn’t the fancy brick wall that he had come to know as his border. Quoll sat down in the middle of his new outside space and slumped. It was all different and a pang of missing hit him. Suddenly all he wanted was to snuggle up with Bilby, Roo and their mother. He hadn’t seen them in a very long time though, and he doubted that they would appear now.

Retirement? I prefer ‘extended vacation with benefits.’
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The world smelled freshly washed as the morning drizzle still clung lightly to the ground. Rain water had collected into small puddles throughout the territory and Tangleloon adored them. The curly coated tom picked his way through the undergrowth, sparkling with dew. He avoided the slightly more muddy edges, but wouldn't argue if a droplet or two got caught on his whiskers.

Even if some mud eventually colored his toes, he didn't seem to complain. The day seemed too pleasant for real misery anyway, especially now. The murderous tension that strangled the forest had finally loosened after his kin and Clan brought the tortie to her knees. The Clans could breathe again...and so could he.

Which meant, naturally, it was time to be nosy.

The thunderpath soon stretched before him in all its nasty smelling glory, although the drizzle did him a service by muting the smell. He crossed with caution as he gave the road some reverence before the Whitehart village lay ahead. Full of Twoleg scents and garden soil.

Neighbors...almost. With a pleased hum Tangleloon padded forward between the gardens and fences, curls bouncing lightly with each step.

Storytelling reveals meaning

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Loot was near vibrating as she stalked down the street in the sunshine, using fences to get off the ground anywhere she could. Her dark brown tail was straight up in excitement, the tip flicking rapidly behind her. Anyone nearby would be able to hear the alto of her purr as she moved.

No one, not even her sister, was about to believe the tale Loot had to tell now. She’d met something… someone utterly extraordinary!

Loot’s blue eyes roved across the lawns, fences, and street. She needed someone, anyone, who would listen. 

No one would believe this.

I wanna be where the people are.

*＊✿❀ ❀✿＊*

Squeezing her way through the small hole in the building which allowed her freedom Artemis breathed in the fresh air of the outdoors. Under the guise of night she was able to leave without the humans knowing. The moon shone bright overhead, reflecting off her pale colored fur. To her the world looked like it was glowing. She was yet to venture too far from the cafe. It was still so overwhelming, what was she supposed to do? 

Artemis kept her body low to the ground in an attempt to avoid being spotted by whatever else might be lurking outside right then. Her long fur picked up different things off of the grass, loose dirt, pebbles, early dew. Stalking along the ground she almost instinctually sniffed the air, trying to pick out any different smells. All she could smell was the road. But then she smelled something different, something.. Fresh? She'd smelled this before. 

Following the scent she spotted what it was, a bird! She'd been practicing catching these creatures, she'd heard from one of the other cats in the cafe that they tasted good and she was curious about it. She stalked forward, keeping the wind behind her to avoid it getting in her eyes, then the bird suddenly flew off. She jumped feebly, trying to catch it before it was gone, but by the time she jumped the bird was already long gone. "Drats." She muttered under her breath. "Why do they always fly away?"

She who wishes to be obeyed must know how to command.

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A lop-sided gait limped through the Whitehart pine plantation, Vivica had barely leapt the fence and it wasn't as smooth as usual with a stinging pain in her hind leg. Such a good day and it was spent being ambushed by a brute. She was just grateful that the slash was the worst of her wounds, give for a few bruises as well but she didn't have much concern for those.

The sleek bicolor threaded through the trees, letting a low grumble from her throat as she met the fence closest to the streets where her home settled. However she wasn't sure if the stubborn pain would let her continue to jump fences smoothly, there would only be so much longer until she took a fall from a fenceline and got more injured than she already was.

And so, Vivica paused, turning to lick the wound the Rogue bravely inflicted on her hind leg, the blood tasting bitter and metallic on her tongue but it was better than leaving a trail for the rogue to follow any further, even if she did cover her scent, there could always be something a cat could use, and in a way, that is where the fun would come in, if the rogue chose to chase, she would be chasing for a while.

But for now, she had to clean this stinging... she would see where it went from there.