Wonderland {open}

The cold had not let up as Cleo hoped it would when the two cats awakened. Torn seemed relieved to leave their shelter for the night, and Cleo was glad to be out of such a vulnerable position. Their walk lasted until sunhigh. Several roads were crossed, and they stopped in the fields outside the twolegplace to try and catch some prey. The long grasses were frozen at the tips, they rattled as the pair walked through them. The cars had marked their territory here - Cleo knew their unnatural smell removed any other scents in the area. Perhaps she wouldn't be catching any rats after all. It wasn't ideal, the black she-cat knew never to arrive at any group without gifts. Perhaps Torn's word would be enough. Cleo would have to hope.

They followed the highest point of the hills, and could peer upon the farmland below. The twolegs' plants were dead and cut short for leafbare. Cleo wondered if they struggled for food as well. What did a twoleg even hunt? Horses, perhaps? Maybe sheep? They were certainly big enough for it, and the she-cat was sure their cars helped. Leafbare was unkind to all species, it seemed.

It was strange for the she-cat to venture so far out of the twolegplace. She knew the clans lived beyond the mountains ahead, and the prey was abundant and the forests were warm. That's what her mother had told her. But the lands in between - that smelled of cars and twolegs, those were a risk. Cleo had no friends out here - and she didn't like unfamiliar territory, no matter how lush it was in greenleaf.

The prospected foliage ended, however, as they came upon mountain territory, and the ground grew hard and the trees more sparse. Torn seemed to know her way here - so Cleo fell behind, her pads beginning to sting. She knew the camp by the old hollowed tree that twisted above a rocky dip in the landscape. Rocks lay strewn about, creating natural caves and hiding places. The rogue's fur began to raise in apprehension but Cleo swiftly licked it down. She refused to show fear. Everything about the camp screamed danger, but she was in the belly of the beast now, there was no turning back. A massive pale tom wove between the stones, battle scarred and three times her size. Cleo blinked, feeling trapped by his icy gaze. This was the type of cat one ran from in the twolegplace. But Cleo wished to survive, and survival meant taking risks.

"I'm Cleo." She spoke, standing as tall as possible. Even with her feigned confidence, the ribs stretching the she-cat's pelt gave her away as another desperate rogue in search of a meal. "I meant Torn in the twolegplace west of here. I wanna join you, your rogue group. I can hunt and run and..." Cleo realized nothing she could say would change the tom's mind. The cat in front of her already knew her fate, she dipped her head and waited for judgement.

A black she-cat wandered into the camp, clearly ignoring the scent markings. There were many cats that lived here now... there was no way she could have missed them. Klaus sat on the tree branch and his claws kneaded the rotting bark with a touch of aggravation. He sighed once she spotted him and he got to his feet. With a single, easy jump from the tree branch to the ground, he fixed her in his icy gaze. Before he could say anything, the black she-cat was already explaining herself. Torn... Tornshadow? She sent her here?

A part of him was concerned that she was telling others where their camp was... but another part of him trusted her judgement. She wouldn't send an entire clan here... would she?

"That's... fine and dandy... but what would you say you're good at? Not introductions, clearly. Tornshadow told you about us? You must know that I'm Klaus then. This is the home of the Forgotten Order and I am one of two leaders. The other leader is named Tarot... and you'll meet him soon enough I am sure." Whether he met this molly by eating her dead corpse or by standard introductions was yet to be seen. Still... he did at least trust Tornshadow to not send some form of useless deadweight their way. Not in this leaf-bare...

When she first walked into the camp shortly after her friend, she was not expecting it to go this way. The gold and white she-cat watched silently as the two spoke for a moment. "I would personally say she is good at hunting, considering she helped me navigate the twoleg place and find food. Very resourceful." That much was true, at least in Torn's mind.

"Sorry to bring her in unexpected, but she did help me out, so I thought I would do the same in return. Of course if you are alright with it." She knew the choice was up to her father in the end, she could only make introductions.

Ares was practicing climbing on the rocks and dead trees that surrounded the camp. With him getting bigger, he had to keep adapting how he climbed things. It felt as if his balance was shifting all the time, and he had seen his father climb trees many times, so he had to try. It was tough at first, but he was getting better, swifter. He had his fair share of falls, of mistakes, but it was in his blood. He wouldn't give up because of a few bruises anyway. Just as soon as he had ascended again, an unknown scent made its way into their camp. His golden eyes watched the interaction carefully, wondering how his father would deal with this intruder. Then, however, his cousin made her way into camp.

He listened, not wanting to interrupt his father. He was their leader, after all, when he wasn't being their father. He deserved respect. Once they stopped talking, he leaped down from his perch. Ares wanted to see who Cleo was. He wouldn't speak until spoken to though. Discipline, respect, these were his tools. Better tools than some of his siblings.

The Forgotten Order... Somewhat pretentious, Cleo thought. But their cats were strong and that spoke enough. She wasn't necessarily in a position to pass judgement either. Cleo dug her paws into the sandy ground as Klaus pried. It was only fair - could she trust a leader that didn't? She chose her next words carefully, with little white lies slipped in between. "My brother died a half moon ago... he froze in the cold as we slept together. I survived. A half moon before that, my father was killed by a rogue group for straying too far into their territory. I survived." She took a brave step forward. "I'm not asking you for pity, I wanted to convey my... stubborness to die. I can hunt and fight, I've killed predators before, rats that threatened me. But I'm good at surviving. I'd do nearly anything. That's why I'm here now. I can make sure your kits..." Her gaze drifted to the young tom behind Klaus, age given away by his kitten fluff still lining his neck. "I can make sure they survive too..."

The pale-furred tortoiseshell leapt forward, claws digging into the branch. She clung, desperately trying to keep her balance, heart hammering in her chest. Ares had been practicing climbing, and so Atalante had to as well. The need to prove herself and be noticed by her father was almost overwhelming. She loved her littermates, of course, but she would be better than them at hunting, she'd be better than them at climbing, too. She had to be.

Panting, Atalante steadied herself, taking a moment to survey her surroundings triumphantly. She was in the perfect position to see the dark-furred strange that had approached, and who now spoke with her father. Curiosity piqued, Atalante clumsily dropped the few tail lengths to the ground, landing awkwardly and shaking out her pelt. Hopefully the stranger and her father... hadn't seen that undignified landing. Ares had already started towards them, standing behind their father.

Atalante followed Ares forward, affectionately brushing against her brother's pelt as she stepped up beside him. The rogue's words were certainly interesting, though Atalante remained quiet for the moment. Even so, her blue eyes lifted, gazing the dark-furred she-cat. She'd survived, but her family had all died, apparently. What made her think she could help them survive if she couldn't keep her own alive?

Tarot headed back towards camp, a white hare being dragged along with him, his fangs still tight in its throat to keep it clean of dirt that could taint the food. Upon arriving in camp though, He saw Klaus confronting one who smelt like a stranger. Tail swaying behind him, he dropped the hare on the cleared-off rock he decided to keep prey on until he buried it in the snow to preserve its meat.

Without bothering to clean all the blood off his muzzle, he stalked towards the duo. His eyes were lidded and cold. Ever since he had been declared the second leader, (or 'shadow leader' as he thought was more accurate) he had put up a facade that demanded respect when he was on the job. Such as now.

His limber body rippled with hidden muscles built up over many moons, and the scars that refused to stay hidden under his fur marking his visage could look rather frightening (if he wasn't putting up a warmer front). Violet hues sharp he stalked up to Klaus's side, tail twitching quietly behind him as he observed the dark-furred loner that had crossed onto their land.

He picked up on enough of the conversation the guess the backstory. Seems his friend's older offspring had invited the she-cat to their lands. A security risk, in his opinion. They were still just a budding group and couldn't afford the clans knowing of their existence yet. Not until they built up the numbers and strength they needed.

He cast a sideways glance in the direction of the older Klaus-spawn, expression unreadable as he let the loner finish. Being fresh to the weight a leadership position brought, the once-loner was much more on edge with the tension of trying to keep their Order alive and safe. Unlike Klaus he didn't have experience in this field, so he was lacking on the assuredness of his new rank, making him much more uptight than usual.

The dark-furred tom was sure that tension would fade with time as he got used to his new situation, but for now, he had to live with it and do the best he could.

The loner's words though, made his hues narrow. Sure he could relate to the she-cat to a degree, but going by her state, she was doing a poor job of surviving at the moment. She could hunt, she said, and fight, she said, but in Tarot's experience, fighting was something one should avoid like the plague when you're a loner. Especially rats, the diseases and sickness they brought with their bites should be feared for good reason. Yet here she was speaking of fighting them instead of running. That made him think she had a bit too much bravado for her own good. Running was something a loner should never be afraid of in the fight for survival.

"The younger ones are doing quite well with surviving, I'd say." he droned, Glancing over at Klaus who had trained them with his own two paws, "In my eyes, they are no longer merely just kits." They had tried to climb the ranks diligently, it was a mockery to them that this stranger would say she needed to 'hone' them more. Especially since he himself, a once-loner, and passed his own knowledge of survival onto them already."You may have survived and may know how to hunt. But as someone who was once a loner, I think it'd  be  more fitting to ask if you know how to hunt for others, how to work with other cats, and how to work in an organized group." His tail swished and he lifted his head. Looking the other loner over with a critical eye he noted she was thin. Not much meat on her bones. Hardly appetizing. "Because if not, those 'kits' know quite a bit more than you in this setting." If you couldn't get along with others, and couldn't learn how to get along with others, then you had no place in the Order.

They were a place for those cast aside, yes, but one cat that couldn't learn their place in the structure of their Order would bring instability, and instability was not something they had the resources to risk right now. At least logically, that was the case.

Tarot glanced over at his fellow leader, skepticism showing in his eyes. He wasn't the one who dealt with accepting members into the Order unless Klaus was indisposed, which was not the case. So, in the end, the pale tom was the one to choose whether or not to accept this cat into their ranks, at his own discretion. In the end, the ex-loner would be helping in training this possible recruit in their newly-established ways, and at the moment, she wasn't very favourable in his eyes.

Speaking of duties... Tarot needed to scout out the clans. It was on his to-do list to see if there were any new threats that needed to be taken into consideration... or new openings. He hadn't been out of the camp for a while now, and the last thing he wanted was for the Order to be behind on the news of their future opponents.

So much to do. Despite the bothersomeness of it all though, he needed to keep powering through, for the sake of the Order.

Klaus caught Tornshadow's pelt come up over the horizon and join the rogue in front of him. There was a lot of misunderstanding, it seemed. He waited patiently for both Tornshadow and... the loner still didn't introduce herself... to finish speaking.

"Tornshadow, this isn't a clan." His voice had no anger in it, but his tone was serious so that she would fully grasp what he was going to explain to her. "We aren't governed the same way, with one leader making all of the decisions and the rest of the clan has to go along with it because the leader's word is the warrior code." He couldn't help but roll his eyes at that law. "While I have no issue helping someone who has helped my daughter, it isn't only my decision to make." And right on queue... Tarot appeared and gave his two cents. What he was asking wasn't unreasonable.

"My kits were born into this harsh leaf-bare. This harshness is all they know, yet here they are, alive and thriving. While I understand your good intentions behind your words and I'm sure that you meant no disrespect, I will have to agree with Tarot. I'm more concerned about your ability to fit in with us and align with our ideals. Survival isn't the issue, though it can become one if we can't all work together. Do you have any qualms about killing another cat? Because there may come a day where you'll be required to do so, whether in self-defense or not.

I still don't know your name."

Klaus's eyes were focused on the black she-cat, but he was watching Tornshadow's reaction out of the corner of his eye. It was just as much a question for her as it was for the unknown she-cat.

Cleo's fur rippled as the group's whispers formed around her. She flattened her ears and tried to get her pelt to lay flat, not wanting to let the others see her apprehension. The new tom who joined them was curious as well... She didn't catch his name, but the laws he spoke of were almost foreign. After Wolf died, Cleo had thought of nothing but herself. She'd kept herself alive well enough, but understood the sentiment of the shadowy tom. If she was to receive the Forgotten Order's protection, then she needed to provide for them. Klaus seemed to agree... but was more concerned about her ability to fight and kill.

The group had transcended survival. Their basic needs were fufilled... it was strange to see such a gathering of cats that didn't shiver in the cold and yowl in hunger. Their numbers had made them strong... and Cleo wanted into that. She wanted to be strong, like Klaus, like Torn. She would do anything for it, she could fight, and she'd be willing to kill. "My name is Cleo. I will kill for you, Klaus. If it means I can join the Forgotten Order, anything."

Blue eyes peered out of a nearby snowbank where Anastasia watched and listened silently. She had found that was the best way to learn, was to stay close and watch and listen for information and knowledge. The snow lent itself to her cause, her pale fur blending with it, the darker tabby stripes taking on the shapes of shadows stretching across it. The clans sure sounded weird, but Cleo seemed fine. She would have to start watching her, and learn what she could about the dark-furred newcomer.