more like home [c]

For the first time in what felt like moons, the ever present autumn drizzle had given way to sunshine, as if the summer itself had tugged back the blanket of cold, reluctant to go into the long slumber that would be the next six moons or more. Tycho had never felt a winter proper... he'd been born in the late weeks of the previous one, and by the time his mother allowed her litter to roam outside the shelter they called home, spring had settled in, chasing away the chill. He remembered shivering in the nest beside his mother and siblings on the harsher nights, but it was never for too long, and his belly was always full of milk, then, too.

Some innate knowledge, a deep-seated instinct, told him this time would be different. He had no warm nest to return to at night, no littermates to share warmth with. None of these things had been an issue for the past half a year, while the weather was mild, but as the days grew shorter and shorter, Tycho knew he had to figure something out, and soon. The run-down Twoleg dens he now found himself traversing seemed like the logical solution - there was cover, and shelter, but there was no real prey to be found here, and he'd had less than stellar experiences with other cats in this area - something there seemed to be plenty of, here.

As he walked along the top of a stone wall, enjoying the warmth on his back, Tycho spotted one such cat in the distance... a large, scarred gray tabby, and she was moving towards him. His ears slicked back... he did not want to fight that... but nor would his pride allow him to cut and run, and besides, maybe she hadn't even seen him. Instead, he settled for a happy medium: sinking to his belly atop the wall and attempting to appear casual. If she saw him, and wanted to fight, he'd have the advantage of height, and if she didn't see him, well, then he'd just go on his merry way and be done with it.

During the day Beechfang had taken to roaming, both the rest of twolegplace as well as the stretch of the old, abandoned nests that held within it the one she reluctantly called home with her father. If she was going to be staying here, the place where she slept would be well defended and the surroundings regularly patrolled. She padded through the rows of broken down and abandoned twoleg nests with her head and tail high, appearing confident tended to make most cats avoid her, especially with her large paws, broad shoulders and scarred pelt. Most of the kittypets seemed too stupid to feel intimidation, but most rogues kept clear of Beechfang, and that was how she preferred it.

A frown crossed her expression at the sight of a tom on one of the fences, yellow-green eye narrowing slightly. This one was much too close to her territory, and she wondered if Clementine, that fool had sent a lackey to try and recruit her again. Or perhaps to fight her. A voice in the back of her mind whispered that it could simply be an unaffiliated loner too, but Beechfang had always been a skeptical sort. She wouldn't believe that until she had proof of such. She slowed her pace somewhat, though her head and tail were still held high as she approached the stranger. Her gaze swept around, searching for the potential of other cats, but found nobody else, and so returned to the tom above. She leapt onto the fence with ease despite her single eye, moons of practice finally paying off.

"Just passing through, I hope?"

Though he wanted to flinch when she leaped to the top of the fence without a second thought, Tycho managed to remain steadfast despite his quickening heartbeat. It was immediately apparent to him then that she was absolutely massive, and clearly, by the fact that she looked like she'd been chewed up and spit out by a monster, skilled in battle. Or skilled in surviving, at least. Thankfully, though, she seemed content to actually attempt to speak with him instead of leaping into battle, even if her single question in itself sounded like a threat.

"Sort of, I suppose," he conceded. Attempting to remain neutral and nonchalant, he sank back on to his haunches and curled his tail around himself. "Kinda always 'just passing through' to be honest. But with the chill coming..." as if on queue, a sharp wind blew through, and Tycho shivered. "I was thinking about settling down somewhere nearby, to wait it out. But uh..." he let out a half-nervous chuckle. "Seems to be a lot of cats around here that like to fight first, ask questions later."

The stranger seemed like he was scared, that was good. Beechfang, for all her recent not-quite-hostility with the kittypets, had a reputation to uphold, one that helped her keep control over the new home she'd reluctantly forged for herself here in twolegplace.

"Not with anyone, then? No rogue buddies of yours lurking around?" Clementine, or whatever remained of the forgotten order, surely wouldn't be dumb enough to send another rogue her way after the warning she'd given him, but it never hurt to keep her guard up. The tom in front of her was scared and would be an easy fight if he was alone. But Beechfang was past the days of rushing headlong into fights, lucky for this tom.

Ah, leafbare... The seasons marched toward it, and Beechfang wasn't particularly looking forward to it either. Not out here, with no clan at her back aside from her father. Herbs and prey both would be scarcer soon.

"You have no idea." She let out an amused snort at the comment. "If you want to keep your pelt, I suggest avoiding the forest. The clans are protective of their territories as I am of mine. We have to be. Especially with some of the rogues around here being... as they are. Nobody wants the trouble they bring." Dawnhawk's remnants were still around, and that was all the reason she needed to be suspicious of any cat that crossed her.

"Is there something I should call you, while you're passing through?"

At the comment about unfriendly forest cats, Tycho turned his shoulder to show Beechfang the freshly healed scars that adorned his shoulders, from where the huge black tom had attacked him in the Twoleg dump. "Trust me, I know," he grimaced, turning back and giving her a knowing look. Thankfully, this she-cat didn't seem like the others. She was... polite, if not quite outright friendly.

"You can call me Tycho - or, Ty, works too, my ma called me both." He offered a smile, a little more at ease now that she'd made it clear she didn't want blood. He had half a thought to ask her name, but if she wanted to introduce herself, he was sure she would. Something this stranger had mentioned, though, was burning at him... and so he had to ask. "You mentioned... clans? What did you mean by that?" In his forest explorations, Tycho had come across those scent markers, almost like borders, but until now he'd assumed that both cats who'd attacked him so far had been related somehow... lots of cats he knew lived in groups, but she'd mentioned plural. Were there many? Were they rivals? He had to know.

"Tycho... My name is Beechfang." Strange name, as she was sure hers would be to him. This rogue seemed to have some encounter with the cats in the forest, even if he questioned about the clans she'd mentioned. "Large groups of cats... Five, actually. I guess you could say they're each like family." Some more than others, and stars above knew how foxing difficult that family could be at times. "They each control large sections of the forest beyond the fence," Her fluffy tail waved in the general direction of the fenceline that bordered Skyclan, "and need to, with their numbers. It takes enough of the old twolegplace to feed myself and my father, you can imagine how much territory they need for all of their queens and kits, and the many warriors and apprentices who provide for them."

"Their borders are clearly marked, I suppose if you know of the cats in the forest, you ran into one of them?"

"Two, actually," Tycho said with a dry smile. "One... not far from here, actually - by a little stream in the pines. Another by the huge Twoleg rubbish piles. Couldn't say which one was meaner, to be honest. 'Bite first, ask questions later,' seems to be a theme within that forest.

The pale rogue sighed quietly, mulling over what she'd told him. Clans of cats, with dedicated territories? Big families? Truth be told, it sounded... appealing. Tycho's eyes found Beechfang's, and he tilted his head slightly, noting once again her scarred visage and confident, collected aura. "Do you know any of them? The clans, I mean?" It was only an assumption, but it seemed she knew more than a simple, casual passerby would... and the way she held herself was unlike many of the flighty, insecure Twolegplace cats he'd met.