#skycan

She blinked, turning her head to see what had interrupted her slumber, and found the form of Rambo hovering above her, a mouse in his jaws. He said something, but she couldn’t understand the words through the prey in his mouth. He seemed to realise his mistake there, and he set the mouse down near her head.

“For you,” he said, nodding to it, before he spoke again. “Sky, I wanted to talk to you.”

Sky was reminded that he had said the exact same words the other day, and amused herself with the thought that Rambo sure wanted to talk to her quite a bit. She abstained from teasing, though, and gave him an expectant look, shifting and drawing the mouse closer to herself, having not thought she would be so hungry upon waking.

“I know I’ve said so already, but I wanted to tell you that I really do like your ideas. I’ll admit, the idea of a new name is interesting, even if these clan names sound a little weird.” Sky’s whiskers twitched in amusement. She agreed with that much, but she was intent on creating a real clan.

“What I’m getting at,” he continued, “is that I think that you should give one of us a name now. Ease slowly into this, if you know what I mean.”

“And who would I be giving a name to?” Sky asked, looking up from the mouse.

Rambo looked coy, and did not answer, but Sky had caught on. She knew what he was alluding to, and she actually thought it was a great idea. It seemed like a smart way to get everyone used to the idea, and she could not find a reason to tell him no. Finally, she nodded. “Gather everyone at moon-high, then,” she said. “I’ll need time to think until then.”

Seeming satisfied, Rambo nodded, and he excused himself, leaving Sky alone with her thoughts. Digging into her muse a little more, she found herself wondering what to do with his name.

The name ‘Rambo’ sounded weird. It never felt right to get her mouth around, and she wondered if the other cats felt the same about that. Unlike names like Mottle, she felt like she couldn’t simply add a word to it. It didn’t seem proper. That said, she wasn’t sure what to change it to. She started to consider the things that defined him. He had a pleasant attitude. Sky got along famously with him, and he hardly seemed to disagree with the rest of the group. He was fine at taking responsibility, but she didn’t know what to do about that.

Her thoughts shifted to his appearance. He was big and handsome, of course, though she wondered a little more about his paws. She had never outwardly brought it up, but she had noticed that his looked different from hers and the rest of the cats. He had more toes than she was sure was normal. It never seemed to hinder him, but it was interesting. She wondered if calling attention to those would be cruel or not, though, and she wondered about calling him back in and discussing it with him, but perhaps she should leave it a surprise.

Knowing Rambo, though, and his general attitude, he would be happy with anything. That was what Sky was hoping for, anyway. She had an idea, finally, something that sounded very right to her ears, and she desperately hoped that he would find it as fitting as she did.

Polishing off the mouse, she finally rose to her feet, stretching slowly, and headed towards the entrance.

Moon-high seemed to take forever to arrive.

Sky was sure she could have called sooner, but she felt it more important to adhere to a schedule. Certainly, a smart leader would keep to their plans, she reasoned.

Finally, when it had arrived, she stood among the rest of the group, the cats gathered around her. Mottle had left her den to join was well – Beetle and Apple were napping, it seemed, though the queen glanced back towards the den cautiously. Sky figured she could make this quick.

She cleared her throat, about to speak, before she felt a nudge at her side. It was Rambo, and he made a gesture at a small boulder. It wasn’t much taller than the rest of them, and Sky felt hot for a moment, realizing that, as leader, she probably should be addressing them from a better vantage point.

Brushing off her brief embarrassment, she leapt onto the boulder, and cleared her throat again.

Her voice sounded awkward to her own ears. “I’m proud to say that Rambo has offered to be the first among us to receive a name for his clan,” she said. Rambo stepped forward, and she was glad that she hadn’t had to ask him to do so. “I am hoping that this will be the first of many names that I am allowed to bestow.”

Rambo seemed to hold a kitten-like excitement in his eyes, and Sky was almost taken aback by it. Was he really this excited? Now she was even more worried about letting him down. She tried not to let that get to her, and carried on, watching him carefully and studying his body language.

“Rambo, from here on out, you will be called Crookedclaw. I hope that you bear it well.” The words still seemed awkward, tumbling out of her mouth like that, but it didn’t matter, because to her relief, Rambo looked thrilled with the name. Sky hopped down to meet him, and Crookedclaw stepped forward, butting his head to Sky’s shoulder. She could hardly hear the congratulations he was getting over the sound of his purr.

“Thank you,” he said, in a low murmur that only Sky could hear. “I’ll cherish it.”

“Don’t look so glum,” she finally said, and Sky’s whiskers twitched. Mottle huffed. “You can’t be so discouraged by just this, you know. You’re never going to get what you want that way.”

“I know,” Sky said, batting halfheartedly at a pebble on the ground. Beetle’s ear flicked, but he buried himself deeper into his sister’s fur, and Sky felt briefly bad for disturbing them. “I just didn’t expect that kind of… I don’t know, anger? Out of him. Is it that big of a deal?”

Mottle paused, and then gave a heavy sigh. “Sky, you have very grand ideas. Not that they’re bad. I like the idea of living in a group. It’s less stress on me and my kittens, and I’m sure other mothers and older cats will be happy to take you up on the idea when they catch wind.” Sky didn’t retort that nursing queens and old cats weren’t catching prey, understanding that Mottle was trying to be kind right now.

“Does it bug you?” Sky asked. “The name thing, I mean.”

Mottle took a moment longer to answer than Sky was comfortable with. However, she stood up, and leaned up, grooming the top of Sky’s head as if she were one of her kittens. The taller molly was surprised, but also genuinely comforted, and she closed her eyes for a moment. When Mottle moved back, Sky hoped that she looked grateful enough. “You’ve given me and my kittens a good home. You can call me what you like.”

Sky felt satisfied with that, and she thanked Mottle, dipping her head before she stepped out, feeling a bit more confident.

She was hardly a few paces out before she ran into Rambo. He seemed pleased to see her. “Sky, I wanted to talk to you.”

Dread immediately crawled up Sky’s throat, but she forced it down, seeing as Rambo looked warm and relaxed. “Sure. What is it?”

“I’m sorry. About Fig, I mean. I guess I didn’t really expect him to stick around, and it’s my fault for dragging him into this. I should have left him out of it.” Sky was surprised at how genuinely guilty Rambo looked, and before she had a chance to speak, he went on. “I do like the naming idea, you know. I’m sure everyone else likes it, too, or they wouldn’t stick around. You have a way with cats, Sky. You’re going to be a good leader.”

Sky wasn’t sure if she had really earned that kind of praise, but it made her chest swell anyway. “You don’t need to apologise for Fig, Rambo,” she said. “That wasn’t on you. But thank you. I… really appreciate your support.”

“It’s the least I can do. I like it here.” Rambo nudged her heavily with his shoulder, and Sky nearly stumbled. He was the only cat roughly her size in the clan currently, though he may very well have been stronger than her. “I can’t wait for you to name me. I know it’ll take some getting used to and all, but I trust you.”

Sky was feeling very appreciative of Rambo and Mottle right now, and she couldn’t actually manage a verbal response for a moment, her throat feeling tight. Instead, she headbutted his shoulder, sure that he would get the message. Rambo seemed satisfied.

“Skystar, right? How’s that sound, huh?” he said, and Sky felt herself practically glow with pride.

“Not Skystar yet,” she said. When she felt like she had done everything she could to build her clan, then she would trust herself to take that kind of title. “Let me earn that.”

Rambo looked briefly surprised, as if he hadn’t expected that reponse, but he recovered swiftly. “And I’m sure you will. I’ll hold you to it.”

“You’d better,” Sky said, finally walking away. She glanced over at Snowflake and Muck, sitting together and talking, and she decided she would save them her worries for now. Like Rambo said, if it really bugged them, they would probably leave. Instead, she figured she might go for a walk, clear her head, even though she had already been hunting. She felt too restless for anything else right now.

As she climbed up the face of the gorge, she couldn’t help but think about being leader. Skystar. That sounded good to her ears -- sounded right. She wanted to believe she could be a good leader, and Rambo had certainly made the effort to instill her with confidence. He had succeeded.

When she had reached the top, she took a second to look back down on it. It was a good home, too. Sky knew the gorge inside and out, and she knew she could make it into a nice, pleasant place for a whole host of cats. She had no idea how many she would end up with by the time she felt she had the proper amount. Perhaps twice as many as were there now? She couldn’t be sure. She would probably know. Or she hoped she would know. Perhaps she should let instinct guide her a little more.

She trotted into the woods nearby, opening her mouth slightly to draw in scents. She could taste faint prey-scent, and fainter cat-scent, and she figured she would ignore both for now. She pledged to catch something on the way back, to at least get something productive out of her walk. She was too distracted by thoughts of Skystar and larger clans to be focusing on hunting.

She would need a second in command. She had thought about it a few times, and she had a good idea of who she might choose. Rambo was really the most obvious choice. He had been supportive since he joined the group. A part of Sky wanted to doubt that a little, but he seemed genuine, and Mottle had vouched for him. And Mottle, of course, had been supportive in her own right. She was the first cat Sky came to when she had worries, and she offered good advice. It wasn’t a decision Sky wanted to be hasty about, of course, but she would rather mull over it sooner than later.

“Skystar,” she mumbled to herself, finding the name filled her with a joy that she could hardly contain. It sounded good. She wouldn’t yet dare start calling herself by it, nor would she make anyone else use it, but it did feel good to think about it. Leader of a clan. It occurred to her that she would have to give her clan a name soon enough. She supposed it could continue to be ‘the clan’ (or, more warmly, ‘her clan’), since there were no others in the area, but that didn’t feel right. She wanted to set it apart, make it clear that it was a special group, but that was definitely thinking far too far ahead, and so she shook her head. Little steps for now, she told herself. Getting too far ahead of herself could lead to frustration and heartbreak, if she was unlucky.

Sky was still thinking on a name for the role, since that sounded a little bit clunky in her head, but otherwise, she was pleased. There was a rising interest in the idea of her clan, and she had heard through the vine that rumours had been spreading about it. Filbert had reported that he had heard a couple of housecats chatting the other night about it. Filbert himself had yet to make up his mind.

Beyond that, two more cats had actually come to her to join. A soft-looking white molly had sauntered up to her a quarter-moon ago, introducing herself as Snowflake, and invited herself right in, and not a day after, an old, dark tabby named Muck had followed suit, though Sky wondered if he was around more for company and protection than for the idea of a clan. She didn’t think she cared, because regardless, she was proud of her tiny clan.

Now that her clan was slowly growing, she was starting to think about names. The old cat she had spoken to had explained that all the cats in those clans had odd sounding, two part names. Things like Brown-tail or Fog-fur. It sounded odd to her ears, but at the same time, she still enjoyed the idea. It was fascinating in its own way, and she was getting ready to bring up the idea to her clanmates.

Snowflake already sounded like a clan name to her, if she had to guess. It was a two-part name, after all, and she thought it described her pretty well. She assumed that had to be the trick -- a two-part name that described the cat in question accurately. That sounded like the logical conclusion. It seemed like all she might have to do was add on to most of their names, though Rambo struck her as an issue. Rambo-claw or Rambo-fur might end up sounding ridiculous, so she would have to sit on that for a little while.

Sky realised that she should probably get his opinion first, and she hoped he would be hanging around. She had been in her den for the early evening, and she finally emerged, stepping down into the gorge. Rambo seemed to be chatting with Snowflake, and she almost didn’t interrupt him, but reminded herself that she was the leader of these cats, and they all agreed with the fact. They wouldn’t be here if they weren’t okay with it.

“Rambo,” she said, pausing next to him. “Do you mind if I speak with you for a moment?” She wondered if she should tone down the formality, because she could see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

However, the big tabby got up. “Sure,” he said, and then threw over his shoulder as he followed Sky, “I’ll be back.”

She didn’t lead him far, and sat down, watching him do the same.

“How do you feel about your name?” she asked, and then realised that it seemed pretty sudden.

The look on Rambo’s face told her as much, and he looked confused, but didn’t seem to want to ask for clarification. “It’s okay,” he said, and then seemed to rethink that. “I mean, it’s my name. I suppose I don’t hate it.” He seemed to battle with the question briefly, before asking, “Why?”

Sky didn’t think this through, but she tried to talk back anyway, explain her thought process. “Well, I was thinking, your name doesn’t work well with, uh, clan conventions. It sounds weird with two parts. I wanted to ask if you would be okay with me changing it. Giving you a more clan like name, you know?”

Rambo looked a little concerned for a moment, but he seemed to relax slightly. “I’m going to have to think about it. I understand your reasoning, but it’s still my name. I don’t know if I want to part with it. I like the thought, though.”

Sky nodded. “I understand. Think as much as you need to.”

“What’s this about names?”

Sky whirled, and Fig was coming up to the two of them, his thin tail twitching. “So you’re going to make us live in a group together, and now you’re going to change all of our names?”

“You’re not being forced to stay here,” Rambo said dryly, and Fig ignored him.

“I never agreed to that,” he said. “My name’s fine as it is.”

Sky floundered. “It’s-- This is how a clan is supposed to be.”

“You’ve never lived in a clan!” Fig spat, and Sky held her ground, but the words hurt a little bit. “This whole clan thing is ridiculous. I never wanted to come along in the first place.”

Sky bristled, and she was about to spit back a scathing remark, but Rambo spoke before she did. “So why are you here?” he asked coolly. “No one is making you stick around.”

Fig looked indignant. He looked around now, and the other cats had paced a little closer to check on the commotion. Sky was a little relieved to see that they didn’t look in agreement with Fig.

The scrawny tom looked between Sky and Rambo, made a faint hissing noise, and then stalked away. Sky didn’t look to follow him, but she could see Rambo turning his head to watch for a few moments. They had come here together, and Sky wondered if he was going to leave, too. He made no attempt to, and then looked Sky over with an apologetic expression. “Sorry,” he said softly, and Sky shook her head.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t expect everyone to be happy about changes. I’m going hunting.”

She rose to her paws, and heard Snowflake say, “I’ll go with you,” and she shook her head again.

She had been working hard now, and had saved coming to see him again until it seemed like Fig and Rambo had settled. She left her den as the moon peaked over the trees, and padded towards the village.

Filbert was lounging on the fence, and though his body was turned away from her, she could see his ears prick as she approached, telling her that he knew she was here, and she hopped up on the fence next to him. Before she had a chance to speak, he asked, “How’s the clan going?”

Sky was surprised briefly by the fact that he’d actually made the move to ask her, and she took a moment to answer. “It’s well,” she said. She paused for a moment, and then continued, figuring that she might as well elaborate since he was prompting her. “A couple toms joined the clan the other day. They seem to be settling well.”

“That’s good,” Filbert said, and his head turned towards her. Though he didn’t say it, she could tell from his body language that he was apologetic about being so harsh the other night. Sky decided not to address it directly, feeling that he was doing enough for now.

It fell silent between them, and Sky wondered if she should leave or try to say more. To be honest, she wanted Filbert to join her clan. He was a close friend, despite being a housecat, and she would honestly appreciate having him by her side. Before she had the chance to part her jaws again, he said, “You’re going to ask me to join.”

Sky was caught off guard briefly, but he wasn’t incorrect. She nodded.

“I’m impressed that you’ve done this much,” he said, slowly and carefully, as if he was trying to avoid saying anything that would offend her. “You’ve worked really hard, but I don’t know if I would even make it out in the wild like that.”

Sky deflated. “I could teach you how to hunt. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.” At that, she felt excitement flutter in her chest – would this mean she could be the first mentor? Granted, teaching wasn’t her strongest skill, but she felt like she could show him that much.

“I’ll have to think on it,” Filbert said, and before she could acknowledge that, he changed the subject, evidently keen to get it off of himself. “What about the other cats who’ve joined you?”

Sky wondered if she should press a little more, and then decided that the smartest thing to do now would probably be to drop it. “It’s not many, but I feel like it’s a good start.”

Filbert seemed approving. “Good job,” he said, and Sky swelled with pride. After his skepticism, hearing him say something like that was genuinely appreciated, and while she wasn’t going to let her ego swell too much, it was enough to give her some new energy about the whole thing.

“Thank you,” she said, in the most genuine sort of tone that she could manage. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re really trying,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

Sky couldn’t be happier. Feeling like she was pleased with the conversation, she moved to stand on the fence, arching her back in a stretch before she moved to hop down. “I’ll come back soon,” he said. “And you’ll think about it?”

She waved her tail in greeting at Rambo and Fig, waiting for them to meet her before she led them down. Rambo steps down the rocks with ease, following fairly close behind Sky, while Fig seemed to fumble, lagging behind and catching on the rocks. Sky could occasionally hear the awful noise of his claws scraping stone.

Likely roused by the noise or smell of newcomers, Sky saw Mottle’s dappled coat appearing out from her den. Her kits were with her, and Sky slowed a little, approaching more cautiously – more for the toms’ benefit than her own. She was quite excited to show the two toms around a little. She’d spent the last few nights starting to clear out some of the larger caves in the gorge, attempting to make it a little more fit for a group. It was nothing particularly impressive, but Sky was proud of it thus far.

Sky was briefly startled by the feeling of a warm pelt brushing against her side, and she realised that Rambo had pushed past her down to the bottom of the gorge, and she paused to watch him with interest (as well as give the staggering Fig a chance to catch up). She reached the bottom as Rambo padded up to Mottle, and for a second, she was ready to give a warning, but to her surprise, Mottle seemed lax. Her kittens remained behind her, though, and Sky could see the quiet threat that he wasn’t to pass her.

She couldn’t hear what either of them were saying from here, and she decided not to get close enough to intrude and eavesdrop, but she did note for the first time that Mottle’s tom kitten, Beetle, looked to be a miniature of Rambo. She figured this must be the reason Mottle had known he would be interested, but Sky decided that it was also none of her business, and as she took a step closer, Rambo turned his attention back to her. He still held his confident, proud air, and Sky honestly found it interesting. She looked at him expectantly, and he finally addressed her again.

“Where will we be sleeping?” he asked, gesturing with his tail towards the gorge wall. Sky heard a sound from behind her at the word ‘we’, but there was no other protest from Fig.

“Here, climb up after me,” she said, moving towards the rock and making her way up a relatively easy path, into a larger cave. It dipped down at the entrance, leading into a somewhat short, wide cave. It was still tall enough to stand in, though at Rambo’s full height, his ears nearly brushed the ceiling.

She turned to them both, regarding them with mild concern. “I’ve still got to clear out some other caves, but until then, I thought this might work for a den. I’m sure it’s not perfect, but it’s a start.” Not for the first time, she was feeling a little insecure, and her eyes flickered from Rambo to Fig.

“It’s a bit short,” said Fig, though Sky suspected he just wanted something to complain about, especially since she could see Rambo nodding in an approving manner.

“I like this for now. I can help you with some of the other ones.” He was now padding around the cave, apparently looking for a place to sleep. Sky was overjoyed.

“So the two of you are staying?” she asked.

“I am,” Rambo said, and his eyes turned to Fig, expression clearly expectant.

Fig seemed intimidated, being coerced into an answer, but to Sky’s surprise and pleasure, he made a noise of agreement, and she perked up considerably, looking pleased. “Perfect,” she said, a purr hiding in her tone. This was fantastic news, and a spiteful part of her couldn’t wait to rub it in Filbert’s face, sure that he would be surprised and ideally impressed by her dedication, and the way she had managed to do this much in such a short time span.

She padded towards the exit again, able to feel the tom toms behind her. “Do you want to look around some more?” she asked. “You’re free to explore some of the caves alone. Just be careful, they might be some sharp things in some.” She’d caught a few splinters in her paws thanks to some of the broken sticks scattered across the cave floors, but it was nothing she couldn’t dig out with some vigorous grooming.

“I’d like to go hunt,” Rambo said. “I’ll bring something back for Mottle.”

Mottle, however, was looking at her kits, though Sky could tell she was thinking.

After talking to Duck, the house cat that had been following her, Sky had wondered about the potential of having some sort of part time system involved in her clan. After all, some cats might want a taste of the feral life, or to learn how to survive in the wild, but not yet be ready to give up the warmth of their homes. She had shared the thought with Mottle, thinking it could be a wise way to get more cats involved, perhaps even to get them to stick around for good.

Finally, the queen spoke, though her eyes didn’t lift to Sky. “It’s something you could try,” she said. “But don’t keep getting your hopes up. You’re getting a little far ahead of yourself. You should wait and see how much this appeals first.”

Sky was a little indignant; out of everyone, she had expected Mottle to be most receptive to her ideas. However, she didn’t let herself get angry, instead ignoring the pragmatism she was faced with. “Those rogues you told me about seemed interested.” She left out the part where she had been attacked by one, and that one hadn’t seemed too invested.

“This has potential,” Mottle said. “But if you put too much into it and it falls through, you can’t get upset.”

Sky’s whiskers twitched, but she had to concede that Mottle had a point. Not out loud, of course, but she could see why the queen warned her to lower her expectations a little. She’d stopped swishing her tail for a moment, and then gave a startled sound as she felt tiny kitten claws on her skin.

“Beetle!” The kitten who had Sky’s tail stopped, and rolled away from it, clearly deterred by the sound of anger from his mother. He apparently decided his sister (a perfect miniature of Mottle herself) was a better target, and he bowled her over. Mottle looked at them both for a moment, but seemed to decide their play was a little harmless for now.

Sky found herself watching with interest, her eyes fixed on the way they played together. Would they make good warriors when they grew up? What sort of cats would they be like that? She didn’t really know what sort of skills would be valuable here, but she knew that she would be happy to train up those two.

Mottle seemed to notice her interest, and amused, said, “They’re not old enough yet.”

“I know.” Sky still didn’t look away, though, caught in her daydream. She watched the little tabby tom pin his sister down. The latter gave a little wail of defeat, falling playfully limp under his tiny paws. They definitely had a lot of growing to do, and Sky was glad that it was still a good, plentiful season for now. Hunting for a queen would be much harder in the winter.

Despite that, she couldn’t help but think of the day when she would be leader, looking down on her cats proudly, knowing that she was responsible for them all.

“If you’re going to dream, go back to your own den,” Mottle said, though she didn’t appear frustrated, watching Sky with something akin to amusement.

Sky gave her a mock offended look, but she got up, figuring that it was about time to get her rest.

“Sky,” Mottle said, and she looked back again. “Don’t give up your optimism. I want you to succeed. Just don’t get carried away.”

The weather seemed to agree with her, as it was a clear night, the full moon just beginning its journey across the sky. It was warm, but she could feel a faint breeze ruffling her coat.

Everything felt comfortable. Sky knew what her plan was for the night, and she felt like she would be able to get it done.

She visited briefly with Mottle, wanting to check in and make sure she knew where she should be going, before leaving, throwing behind her that she would bring prey back. She heard the queen wish her good luck over the soft mews of her kittens.

There was the mild chance she wouldn’t find the cats that Mottle had told her about tonight. The queen had told her that a few had hung around some old stump a ways away from the shed she had sheltered by. Sky went that way first, sure that she would be able to find her way from there.

She was almost there – she could smell the strong prey-scent that the shed seemed to seep with before she was blindsided, tackled by a dark mass of fur. She hissed and spat, rolling to try to get the advantage on the other cat. The tom was smaller than she was, felt scrawny, but it seemed to work to his advantage, and she felt teeth on her ear.

A yowl rose in her throat, trying hard to shake him off, before she felt something else seem to join the fray, but this one didn’t seem so intent on fighting. She felt the other cat pulled off from her, and she leapt back, fur rising along her spine, back arching in a threatening manner.

Now that she had the chance to visually observe the situation, her eyes flickered over the two cats. Both were toms – the one that had attacked her was scrawny and brown, his fur seeming very messy, though that could have been the fight. The other tom was also brown, but with white over his paws, chest, and muzzle, and was a little bit larger than she was.

Sky looked warily between the two, her fur still on end. “What was that for?” she asked, her tone a little bit accusatory. Her eyes were on the smaller tom as she spoke, but she glanced cautiously at the other.

“Relax,” said the larger tom, though his gaze seemed focused on the cat beside him rather than her, considering he was still eyeing her with a hint of malice. The other seemed mildly annoyed with the one that had attacked her, but as his gaze turned over to her, his irritation faded. “Sorry about that,” he said briskly. The other tom didn’t look very sorry.

Sky took a moment, trying to gauge whether or not it would be a good idea to let her guard down, but the body language of the larger tom suggested that he was comfortable and has no intent of attacking. She felt like she could take the other one now that she would have a good warning, and decided to stand down, but be wary.

She looked them over curiously, and found herself guessing that these might be the cats that Mottle had spoken of. “It’s fine,” she said, feeling herself relax a little, though she kept her eyes cautiously on the tom who had attacked her. Her ear still stung.

“I’m Rambo,” the bigger tom said. He said, and licked a paw, drawing it over his ear. She noted for the first time that his paws looked a little funny, but she couldn’t place it, and ignored it for now. “This” – he flicked the other tom with his tail – “is Fig.” Fig showed his teeth.

“Sky,” she said, ignoring Fig. “Say, do you know Mottle?”

“Rambo does,” Fig said, his tone having some mild mocking edge to it that Sky could only guess was some sort of inside joke.

“We do,” Rambo said, ignoring him. “Why?”

“She told me to look for you,” Sky said, letting herself sit down now, though she still kept a good portion of her senses on Fig, not sure if he wouldn’t attempt to tackle her again. “Said you might be interested in my idea.”

“Idea?” Rambo looked interested, and Fig’s ears even pricked.

Admittedly, Sky was starting to tire of explaining the clan deal so much, but it was necessary. If she wanted cats to join her group, it had to be. It didn’t take long to get the concept across, though, and Rambo certainly looked interested. Fig looked dubious.

“I like that,” Rambo said. “I think I’ll come check things out.” Sky was pleased.

“I’ll think it over,” Fig said. It wasn’t the most comforting answer, but it was far from a no, so there was no reason for her to complain.

She bid the toms goodbye, having done what she set out to do, and continued onward. She spent a short amount of time hunting, managing to capture a couple of mice, before she made her way back.

For a moment, she considered going back to Filbert, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of constant updates. He was already doubtful in her. Perhaps when she had a little bit more confidence, like if Rambo and Fig actually showed up. That would be a lot more promising than words themselves.

Walking back along the fences, she realised she was being tailed, and looked up and behind her. A small brown molly was following her from the fence. She crouched as soon as Sky turned, as if she thought it was hiding her, but Sky waved her tail in greeting. From the look and smell, the stranger was a housecat, and Sky felt she had nothing to fear.

“I heard you talking to those toms,” she said. This surprised Sky, because she actually hadn’t noticed the molly then, and seeing as she was here now, she must have been after Sky for a while. She was almost a little impressed.

“Did you?”

“I, uh, really like your idea,” said the molly, looking sheepish. “My name’s Duck.”

Sky was interested now, and she eyed Duck with it. “Do you want to join?”

“My people only let me out at night,” Duck said. “So I don’t know if I can.”

Sky frowned, but mulled it over. She would love to have more cats joining her little makeshift group, housecats or ferals. She couldn’t see a reason to complain. A small idea sparked in her mind, and she thought she might have something to consider, but she would need time for it. “Meet me at the gorge in a few nights’ time, okay? I might have a place for you.”