𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 ❖

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

████████
──(𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓)─
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx credits: font. font.

───────────────────────────────────────

when a clever & cunning tom convinced rogue
s, loners, & kittypets alike to carve out a ter
ritory for themselves in the hotly disputed ce
ntral park of twolegplace; feralclan was born.
for their loyalty, every cat in feralclan is wort
h 10 rogues who would lie, cheat, & steal fro
m each other as much as any other. they are
bold & fierce fighters who use their claws &

wits to defend what’s theirs from anyone too
lazy to get their own turf. they hunt in the p
ark & ponds or steal from the twolegs & feas
t while other cats dig for scraps or fight over
bones. because not just any cat is worthy of
feralclan. to control central park takes skill,
strategy, & above all: unity. only those w/ st
rong spirits & loyalty to the clan make it here

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

current arc. new traditions and superstitions
the clan have begun training apprentices under their new code and welcome their first kits.
the medicine cat has begun having strange dreams of a place of power.
outsiders are returning to the park to steal prey.

────────────────────────────────────

feralclan is new & have only controlled centr
al park for a single season under their charis
matic leader, Sinbad, who scraped the clan t
ogether from his former band of rogues, trus
ted loners, & proven kittypets tired of the u
npredictable nature of the city streets. toge
ther, they swept the park by storm & ran out
the other rogues, recruited more loners, & c
hased wandering kittypets to their homes in

order to claim the winter woods for their own.
by working together, the group weathered le
afbare much better than most, even growing
plump on the undisputed source of prey & by
clever thievery. now newleaf has come with
a promise of fine hunting that will hold throu
gh greenleaf. but since winter has released it
s icy grip on the city, those that were driven
out of the park are angry. many alleycat rogu

es whisper of forming their own groups to tak
e control of things themselves. the new clan
will be hard-pressed to hold their territory no
w that the competition is no longer weakened
by hunger & cold. soon it will be time to prov
e themselves as warriors bound by loyalty & a
code of honor because nothing short of that w
ill save them from falling apart & being driven
out of their new home.

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

this rp welcomes active, high-lit roleplayers who want something that lasts. really
hoping for a group of folks dedicated to writing a great story with great character
development. the rp will rely heavily on character relations to go far.

────────────────────────────────────

1. tess & forum rules always -- credit all images used!!
2. this is a long-term rp about a rough-and-tumble clan being born in the
city & will move forward in arcs as the cats discover the powers of star
clan & what it means to be true warriors who follow a code of honor.
3. high-lit roleplay w/ a 200 word minimum per character
4. 42 spots max & only 4 cats per user**
5. discord will be required for communications**
6. exotic breeds (except hairless & munchkin) are allowed but all cats
must have realistic fur/eye colors, behavior, & strengths
7. be unique/diverse w/ charries & do not rp your own crushes/mates/mentors
8. disable sigs in the main thread & keep all ooc in the discord
9. if you would like your cat to have a prophecy or be a deputy, medcat,
or non-clan cat, pm me. lots of role opportunities for everyone!

** rule 4 -- if you remain active after the start you can add more charries unless
we are full

** rule 5 -- if you'd like to participate but do not want to use discord, pm me

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

clan name. feralclan territory. central park
clan motto. strength in numbers
known enemies. none
24 total cats. ♂: 9 | ♀: 12 | ⚩: 3

────────────────────────────────────

XXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

leader.
sinbad - 38m - ♂

deputy.
bourbon- 40m - ♂

medicine cat.
whitewillow- 67m - ♀

med cat apprentice.
jiji - 8m - ♂

XX

warriors.
fang- 60m - ♂
anduin - 49m - ♂
vulturesong - 38m - ♀
beetuft - 35m - ♀
nightfall - 34 m - ♀
brindlescorch- 24m - ♀
brambleblaze - 14m - ♀
robinsong - 14m - ♀
name - age - gender
name - age - gender

XX

apprentices.
hibiscuspaw- 34 m - ⚩
azriel- 19m - ♂
whiskey - 15m - ♀
ficuspaw- 9m - ♀
stoatpaw- 9m - ♂
turtlepaw- 9m - ⚩
name - age - gender
name - age - gender
name - age - gender
name - age - gender

XX

elders.
name - age - gender
name - age - gender
queens.
tansysnap - 43m - ♀
luna - 55m - ♀
kits.
name - age - gender
name - age - gender
name - age - gender
name - age - gender

XX

non-clan cats.
flynn - 53m - ♂
echo - 52m - ⚩
salem - 38m - ♂
peregrine- 34m - ♀
mercy- 31m - ♀
name - age - gender
name - age - gender
name - age - gender
name - age - gender
name - age - gender

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

───────────────
18/42 spots available. reserves last 48 hours. forms thread

███████████████

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

✸ 𝑺 𝑰 𝑵 𝑩 𝑨 𝑫 X──────
age. 38 moons gender. tom rank. leader who. bourbon what. surveying the camp where. hidden hollow wc. 798
────────────────────────────────

When Sinbad emerged from his den within the roots at the base of a fir tree growing stubbornly out of a large hill of rock, he blinked his luridly green eyes and sat in a spot of sunlight that struggled through the fast-moving clouds above Central Park in New York City. It was a little while before sunhigh and the season of new leaf had only just begun so the sun’s rays felt weak and were often blocked only to appear again with dazzling brightness. His immediate surroundings had a hushed quality to them as if this section of forest still slumbered, but if Sinbad strained his ears he could hear the roar of the city beyond Central Park’s borders.

From where he sat Sinbad could just make out flickers of movement below within the thick tangle of briars that encircled the stone hill he called home. The citadel itself, as he thought of it, was actually hollow. The roots forming his own den forced themselves deep into the cracks of the rock they grew on and hollowed out space within the stone: enough to shelter the vulnerable from the elements. A hidden gap at ground-level allowed cats to squeeze in and out of the cave-like space without being seen so that if anyone outside glimpsed the citadel, all they saw were prickly briars and a scraggly tree overtaking lichen-covered stone.

A gust of wind with the scent of rain on it ruffled Sinbad’s flame-colored coat and chilled the exposed skin on his chest where a large chunk of fur was still missing after it had been torn out by the fangs of an enemy in battle. The blow had been nearly fatal, just missing his throat, and took a whole moon to heal but Sinbad was still a young, strong tom with too much ambition to be stopped by something as trivial as a flesh-wound.

The sight of his clan carrying out their duties in the mid-morning sun was more than enough to chase away the chill brought on by the wind. It would shower on-and-off throughout the day he guessed, but the prey was practically running over the clan’s paws where they stood and at night the dens in the briars were warm because of the many bodies inside.

At the foot of the Hidden Hollow, the name by which the Clan called their camp, a small stretch of sandy earth provided space for cats to gather and some were now. Sinbad looked over the strong, healthy cats with great pleasure.

In just 3 moons time, Sinbad had managed to achieve the first of his great ambitions: to seize control of Central Park and establish a territory for his cats alone. The Great Sweep in the dead of winter had been unprecedented and led to a swift victory as cats caught unawares in the park fled Sinbad’s attackers and the few rogue bands splintered in the face of unflinching unity.

Still, Sinbad considered himself only lucky. He had worked tirelessly to persuade others to his side and took great risk in finally revealing his plans but while he had won a great battle, there was still a war waging on. The large orange tom couldn’t rest until he was sure all of his cats would remain loyal to him and each other. With all other contenders driven out, the surplus of prey in Central Park during the cruel moons of leaf bare had carried the Clan to this point but the sun’s rays would only grow stronger and hotter with each new day much like the strength and rage of his enemies. Soon someone would come seeking vengeance.

Already the smarter, stealthier outsiders were sneaking into the territory to steal prey. The Clan still required more discipline before Sinbad was supremely confident of their hold on the Park. Thankfully, the ranks of his warriors were increasing and there were several young cats training in the ways Sinbad had set for his followers. If the Clan’s loyalty held true for another season, Sinbad thought his second great ambition would be realized: to forge a group of cats so strong that no one could ever challenge them.

The flame-colored tom’s green eyes caught the pale, bi-colored pelt of his deputy, Bourbon. Sinbad simply twitched his tail back and forth in silence, waiting for Bourbon’s ice blue eyes to meet his own. The slightly older tom had been allied with Sinbad since he was just the leader of a band of rogues and was probably the only cat Sinbad knew he could trust, earning Bourbon the position of second-in-command.

Sinbad lowered himself over his paws, tail still twitching as he waited patiently to discuss upcoming Clan matters. There was much to be done now that new leaf was here.

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

⚔ 𝐅 𝐀 𝐍 𝐆 X──────
age. 60 moons gender. tom rank. senior warrior who. mentions azriel, open what. volunteering for patrol where. hidden hollow w.c. 711
──────────────────────────────────

Fang was awoken from his satisfying slumber when a bright shaft of sunlight fell on his closed eyes from the gaps in the weave of briars overhead. His eyes opened a mere slit before closing hard again at the glare. Before Fang could blink & adjust to it, the light was gone as a mass of clouds blocked it out. Fang pushed himself up with his front paws & stretched his neck & shoulders before indulging a massive yawn. He blinked green eyes and swept his tongue over his jaws before he felt properly awake.

Fang was getting up there in age for a stray city cat & found he had less hop-to-it. Of course, it would still be moons more before the older tom considered retiring & joining the elders. He had to admit he was getting used to always being full-fed and his comfortable moss-and-feather-lined nest in the woven briar den that was warm at night with other sleeping bodies close by. Clan life certainly had its perks & warriors had all the privileges a respectable cat could ask for; but the idea of putting down the duties he had now for a few moons of rest before he died didn’t sit well with him. Surely Fang had better service to give to the clan for a while yet than being remanded to the role of a sage storyteller or glorified kitsitter. Fang was much too proud & used to a hard day’s work to rest when he still had strength in his limbs & fighting fire in his breast.

The large maine coon mix rose to his paws silently, careful not to disturb any other cat resting within the den as he padded out onto the sandy strip of earth between the Hidden Hollow’s citadel & the camp wall. Already a small pile of fresh-kill had been gathered in a shallow hole near the entrance to the Hollow itself. Fang felt reasonable in taking a black bird for himself as the pile would become a small mountain by the time the next patrols had made their rounds. To assure himself of this, Fang decided to join the sunhigh hunting patrol when it relieved the dawn parties in just a while.

It was brisk, damp weather with unpredictable gusts of wind outside but all of the creatures that had been burrowing deep in their hidey holes would be stretching their legs & filling empty bellies now that the hard frosts had gone. An easy hunting patrol would be just the way to start his day. And what’s more, Fang could bring along the cat whose clan warrior training he had begun overseeing; a simple hunting patrol would be a good opportunity to understand the blue-point siamese better.

His apprentice was one-of-a-kind to say the least. And that was saying something coming from Fang who had seen a lot roaming the streets of New York. For one, he didn’t speak cat very much at all & seemed to think he was really a dog. But Fang didn’t judge Azriel for being different because he could clearly see the potential within the young tom. He had the loyalty of a pack animal & the fearlessness of one too because he knew he could rely on his own to have his back. Fang thought Azriel was quite special to have these qualities & sensed there were things he himself could learn from one so unique. There was plenty of time to seek out the toml if he was around the camp & invite him along.

He padded over to a spot near the warriors den where the sand was hard-packed earth & hunched down to eat his black bird. After all that remained were a few bones & dark feathers Fang set to grooming his fluffy silver coat. The length made it a chore to comb mats out of and as a result he had quite a few in his belly fur that were dingy with dust. He focused instead on his chest, paws, and face so as to be presentable. Fang was just dragging a wet paw over the snip of gray on his nose when he noticed more activity within the camp wall.

Curious to know whose patrol he’d be joining, he cast a glance around the sandy clearing while keeping an eye out for Azriel.

[C a s]

⌠☼⌡→ 𝒱𝓊𝓁𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔 → 38 mns | ♀ | Apprentice: | Mate/Crush: | Tags: Fang

"𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟’ 𝕔𝕠𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕔, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 -

T h e pitch-black feline did not mind the cold. No, Vulturesong’s thick pelt kept her warm, especially among the throng of her fellow felines. In FeralClan’s short establishment, she had grown used to sleeping with others, and was all the happier for it. Vulturesong thrived in the presence of others. Perhaps, she sometimes thought, it was the only way she could ever survive. She had almost always had company. First, Rat, and then shortly after, Anduin and Varian. Anduin’s company had become permanent, and though she knew little of the shrouded tom’s past, she knew enough to know he was happier with more cats around, too. For all of his independence, Anduin smiled more now than he had since - she assumed, having never met the feline - Primrose. Yes, both cats were adjusting well to Sinbad’s group, even having made a few friends.

For all of her friends, Vulturesong had not built many bonds that were meaningful. She intended to change this, though, as she aspired to be a well-liked warrior of FeralClan. Warrior. The term itself brought a light smile to Vulturesong’s muzzle - the term made her feel part of something much greater than herself, much greater than just she and Anduin roaming the city as rogues. Vulturesong was proud to call herself one of FeralClan’s warriors, and with any luck, they would eventually be proud to call her one of their own.

That’s why, when a hunting patrol began to assemble, Vulturesong had been the first to volunteer. She gave her fluffy tail a flick in greeting as Fang approached, a passive curiosity in his gaze. Vulturesong liked the older tom well enough - and she hoped she could learn from his much vaster experiences.

“Joining the patrol, are you?” The black molly asked, dipping her head respectfully. “I was going to invite Robinsong along too. You and Azriel would make us a pretty complete team, I think!” Her voice came in a cheerful purr, clearly pleased with her Clanmates’ company.

𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟’ 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕫𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤."

wc: 334

_____________________________________________________________

⌠☾⌡→ 𝒜𝓃𝒹𝓊𝒾𝓃 → 49 mns | ♂ | Apprentice: | Mate: Primrose | Tags: Nightfall

"𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖕𝖊𝖔𝖕𝖑𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖆𝖓 𝖊𝖓𝓭𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝔂 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖆 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖘𝖍,

T h e cold season was not treating Anduin well. The tom had found himself in the medicine cat’s den recently for a light cold, and had only felt up to par again the last few sunrises. His thin tabby-and-white pelt offered little in the way of shelter, and unlike his honorary sister, Anduin did not favor company nor sleeping in a full den with cats he thought of as strangers. It was only recently that he had begun to adjust to the change, his nest having gradually moved closer to the initial throng.

Anduin preferred doing things solo. The flat-faced tom had a rat’s tail clamped tightly between his jaws as he clambered into the hollow FeralClan called home. Of all the places he had stayed, he had to admit that - save the Twoleg home that had been very cushy - it was the coziest. And he’d even begun to make friends. Well, two, anyway - Nightfall was nice to be around. She was quiet and contemplative making her ideal company, and her adoptive daughter, Brambleblaze, was a very skilled young cat. Anduin had taken it upon himself to train her unofficially, and he had to say, it had gone well and he was proud of her fresh warrior status. Now, as the stocky tom dropped the rat into the pile of prey the Clan attempted to fill, his gaze trailed across camp seeking out one of the two she-cats. His eyes brightened as he spotted Nightfall.

Padding towards her, Anduin’s steps quickened. He wouldn’t liken what he felt for her to love, but Anduin had to admit, he was as comfortable around Nightfall as he had been with Primrose. His trot slowed as he came to her side. Sitting down and curling his tail around his paws, he offered the warrior a nod. “Prey’s running well today. Hunting is good, and it feels as if the season is beginning to change, doesn’t it?”

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝔂 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖆𝖓 𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖑 - 𝕴 𝓭𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖔𝖓𝖊."

wc: 323

_____________________________________________________________

⌠✯⌡→ 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓀𝑒𝓎 → 15 mns | ♀ | Mentor: | Mate/Crush: | Tags:

"𝑀𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝓊𝓉𝑒, 𝒸𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃,

W h i s k e y purred softly, her crystal-clear blue eyes partially closed. Her pelt was long and warm, even more so with the emerging sun. She had gone to the willow-shrouded pool the moment she’d risen, and now, as her eyes cracked open further, they widened with surprise. “Mouse-dung!” The she-cat meowed, pulling herself to her paws. She had not intended to lounge in the sun for so long. She had something to prove, after all - she was newer to FeralClan, and her father was an upstanding member. The deputy, in fact, as Whiskey was always happy to tell others. After all these moons of having only stories...Bourbon was a real, tangible cat, and she had fallen right into his paws by complete accident.

Her pawsteps were large bounds as Whiskey headed towards camp. Her gait was somewhat awkward; the winter months had been harsh on her leg injury, the fur-covered joint aching horribly. As a result she had gotten close to the Clan’s medicine cat. Whitewillow was skilled and Whiskey was more than grateful for her. She’d grown rather fond of the medicine cat; she viewed Whitewillow as an almost maternal figure.

Finally, Whiskey found herself skidding to a stop in camp. Her chest was heaving as a result of the urgency she’d taken when heading back, but a brightness clung to her. Yes, Whiskey was a happy, inquisitive cat, despite the hardships and consistent inconsistency of her life. Now, her pace a bit sloppier as her leg began to ache a bit, Whiskey padded towards Sinbad and Bourbon. The two toms were far too busy to talk to, but that was okay. Whiskey seated herself a respectable distance away, so that she could not hear or even be tempted to eavesdrop on their conversation, and began to groom her long pelt. It was matted from the long period of laying down she’d just had, and the rush in her steps hadn’t helped, leaving it knotted and somewhat muddy. Whiskey didn’t care, though - she wasn’t one to give a rat’s tail on how bedraggled she looked, and now was no different, though she wanted to look presentable before approaching her father, who she was still in the cusp of trying to impress.

𝐼 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃, 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒."

wc: 377

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

⚔ 𝐅 𝐀 𝐍 𝐆 X──────
age. 60 moons gender. tom rank. senior warrior who. azriel, vulturesong what. volunteering for patrol where. hidden hollow w.c. 489
──────────────────────────────────

Fang blinked in acknowledgement or mewed quiet greetings to the other cats in the small clearing as they padded past where he sat to get a piece of fresh-kill. He was always a very reserved cat and his silence could be comforting or not depending on how those around Fang had judged him. Any who knew him well knew he was not cruel despite the fact that he spoke few words and seemed to only ever stare with his sharp leaf-green eyes. Still, his size and silence made excitable cats uneasy when they expected him to demand deference.

Thankfully, Fang’s apprentice was untouched in any way by the senior warrior’s stoicism. It pleased Fang that Azriel was unafraid, even if it was because Azriel didn’t know better about the nuances of feline body language. It was refreshing in a way, and Fang was grateful to not have a nervous or overly serious apprentice.

However, Azriel’s lack of the common cat’s fears and boundless energy were still something one had to be prepared for. Fang had only a second to register the cream-and-silver blur streaking toward him and opened his mouth in a silent cry of surprise as Azriel hung on his neck and then threw himself on the ground to roll around like a dog. Fang gently cuffed the younger tom on the ear with a soft paw and then shook blades of grass and dust from his coat as Azriel settled down.

The second both toms were sitting, Azriel’s greeting tumbled from his mouth in a jumble and Fang couldn’t stop himself from letting loose a 'mrrow' of laughter as the apprentice misspoke. “It is a good morning.” Fang murmured in his strong, clear tenor. “I slept like a kit at its mother’s belly.” He replied, yawning again when he thought of just how restful his sleep really was. His nest in the warrior’s den sure beat the old tire he used to sleep in that always left him reeking of the thunderpath.

“Do you wish to hunt?” Fang asked, getting to his paws and then crouching down as if to spring on unsuspecting prey. The senior warrior didn’t mind or feel silly trying to communicate with his apprentice through gestures rather than words. He was too old for that. Hopefully whoever led the patrol wouldn’t mind Azriel or the language barrier either. Some cats got their tails in a twist over his exuberance and.. doggishness.

Fang looked over Azriel’s shoulder to try and spot who would lead the patrol when he glimpsed a dark pelt. Fang’s eyes narrowed in pleasure when he realized it was Vulturesong. He mewed a pleasantry and then nodded a confirmation. Robinsong was a great pick to balance out the patrol in both skill and working personality. It would be a hard day for the small woodland creatures who made their home in the park. “I agree.” He murmured, as reticent as ever.

[ℛσуαℓ ♕]

❧ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐀 𝐓 𝐏 𝐀 𝐖 X──────
age. 9 moons gender. tom rank. apprentice who. whiskey, mentions hibiscuspaw what. chatting where. hidden hollow w.c. 502
──────────────────────────────────

Normally, Stoatpaw was an early riser who enjoyed the still silence of the morning when the rest of the camp was still asleep. But he’d been slated for the dusk patrol the night previous and hadn’t returned from patrolling the Clan’s borders until well after moonrise. When he finally blinked open his ice-blue eyes only Hibiscuspaw, the oldest cat in training to be a warrior, was visible in the apprentice’s den.

Stoatpaw thought he saw the glitter of their open eyes staring out of the den’s entrance but something about the rigidity of their body within the nest suggested to him Hibisucspaw was best left alone. Good-naturedly, Stoatpaw crept silently from his own nest so as not to disturb them and waited until he entered the weak sunshine outside to begin his ablutions.

Much of the Clan had already risen and Stoatpaw eyed another apprentice, Azriel, hurtling towards his mentor, Fang. Stoatpaw was normally a friendly and polite cat who thought before speaking but something about Azriel caused the younger tom to absently curl his lip. However, Stoatpaw didn’t let his instinctive dislike of Azriel’s unique character show so as not to appear boorish.

Witnessing Azriel’s overly-familiar greeting gave Stoatpaw a prick of jealousy before the snowshoe tom shook himself mentally. He’d been training under the Clan Code Sinbad had established since the rules were set but until today, his training had been overseen by whatever warrior had the time. Stoatpaw envied Azriel for the one-one-one relationship he had with Fang. But the hot feelings of jealousy were quickly dispelled when Stoatpaw remembered that today was the day he’d have his very own mentor ceremony.

To Stoatpaw’s utter delight, the cat chosen to be his mentor was none other than the Clan deputy, Bourbon. Bourbon was a snowshoe tom like Stoatpaw but of a whole other caliber and Stoatpaw admired him greatly for his confidence and intellect. He was dying to know better and emulate his hero within the Clan.

Stoatpaw looked away from Azriel and Fang to begin washing. He was just bobbing his head up and down to lick a spot of dirt from the white fur of his chest when his eye caught on Whiskey entering the camp. Following her line of sight, he noted Sinbad perched atop the stone citadel of the Hidden Hollow.

Prompted by a growing curiosity, Stoatpaw padded over to the older apprentice and dipped his head in greeting. Judging by the state of her coat, she’d been outside camp this morning and he’d missed it because he was sleeping in. “What have you been up to?” He asked with a sparkle of interest in his blue eyes.

“Think you’ll get your own mentor today?” Stoatpaw continued after scarcely a beat. “I heard there will be several ceremonies at sunset.” The tom did his best not to sound overly complacent since he knew that he would be including in the Clan’s new traditions. He wished to know which cat Whiskey would want for a mentor.