Hello Feline Friends

“Maybe to you.” Henry replied. He figured that Hazelpaw, as Treewhisker’s daughter, would be sensible enough to not hurt the strange kit. “But That kit isn’t wild.” Locking a stern pair of eyes first on her, then on Yellowfoot, he added “And with the reception we got in your camp we worry for her safety amongst your clan.”

Hazelpaw looked offended at the implication that they would harm the kitten. “No, she’s not! We would never hurt a kit! Wild isn’t the same thing as savage.”

“Well,” Henry replied, “That’s a risk I have to take. That kitten I helped save is probably only in danger the longer she spends in your camp.”

“There being a bunch of you will only make them angrier,” Hazelpaw pointed out. “You’re trespassing.”

Yellowfoot stepped in beside Hazelpaw, which caused the first kittypet to flinch back. This wild cat was much bigger than Hazelpaw.

Yellowfoot rolled his eyes. Glancing at Henry, having heard their entire conversation, he mewed “What are you doing in our territory with so many cats if all you want to do is talk?”

“We were all a little frightened after what happened in your camp.” Henry admitted, remembering with a shudder the way that only Treestar had stood between them and getting clawed by a few of his warriors. “We thought we’d be safer if we stuck together.”

Hazelpaw shook her head, eyeing the two as she wondered where Yellowfoot was.

“That’s right,” Henry replied with a dip of his head, apologetic. “Do you know where your father is? We need to see him.” He glanced around, indicating they were not the only two non-clan cats in the territory.

Hazelpaw frowned at him. “Treestar,” she corrected, “and I’m his only daughter.”

“Because I was there a moon ago when we were threatened and sneered our of your camp.” The tom Replied, though he stopped shying away from the apprentice. “Henry!”

The aforementioned tom joined him and Hazelpaw in the clearing, glancing at Hazelpaw. “Wait… you’re one of Treewhisker’s daughters, aren’t you?” The tom had again used her father’s warrior game rather than his leaderly name.

Hazelpaw frowned. “I’m barely older than a kit. Why are you scared of me? I still have kit fur for StarClan’s sake!” She exclaimed in exasperation at the wimpiness of kittypets. “And why do you want her(?)?”

The tomcat’s eyes remained wide, the bell on his bright blue collar jingling softly as he kept stepping back. “Don’t hurt me,” he pleaded quietly, “We’re just coming for the kit Henry helped save.”

Hazelpaw relaxed slightly when she realized the tom was just a kittypet and frowned at him. “What are you doing here?”

Contrary to being an invading rogue, however, this cat was fatter than a warrior, and his kept was too well kept. He also hardly seemed ready to fight, and began to back away from the diminutive apprentice despite being older and larger.

Hazelpaw froze at the sight of the unfamiliar cat, eyes widening.

Just as Hazelpaw finished burying her catch, and before Yellowfoot could reach her in his stealthy stride, one of the strange cats emerged into the apprentice’s view, and looked at her silently with wide eyes.

Hazelpaw glanced around at her surroundings sheepishly before burying the finch. That call probably scared off everything nearby. Oops.

The voices, and their owners, froze at the cry of the bird, but based on the murmuring Yellowfoot heard the cats below were more afraid than anything. Carefully, the tom shuffled down the tree, making his way towards his apprentice in a low crouch.

Hazelpaw pounced for the finch, but unfortunately, the shifting her paws as she made her leap alerted the bird and it made a loud cry just before her claws snuffed out its life.

Yellowfoot grimaced as he was just about to call to her, realizing all that would do is alert the other cats. Hazelpaw was downwind from them, at least for now, so the tom listened in.

“...How stupid this is, Henry,” murmured a she-cat, as Yellowfoot thought he caught sight of a sleek coat in the undergrowth.

Hazelpaw wasn’t close enough to also hear the voices, her full attention focused on the bird.

Before long, Yellowfoot had killed the squirrel. He stopped in his tracks when he thought he heard voices, throwing the prey into the river below so it’s scent or the sound of it falling to the earth could not alert their owners.

Hazelpaw crept through the undergrowth, following both the scent and the sound of the finch’s song.

Yellowfoot stalked The squirrel into the low branches of a tree with practiced precision, the young tom eagerly making ready to pounce and claim it for the clan.

Hazelpaw cheerfully followed the scent of a finch shortly after he left.

Yellowfoot kept his jaws open until he scented something delicious, then swiped his tongue around his muzzle eagerly. “The squirrel is mine,” The tom purred softly, stalking off in the direction of the furry prey.