what's true (solo)

Unfortunately, Perchstar woke up. The sun had risen not too long ago, as evidenced by the faint, sickly yellow light that permeated the thin path she had stowed away in. Most of her makeshift bedding had drifted away in the nighttime breeze, uncovering her hiding place. That would not have been alarming if she had been awakened normally, rather than by the sudden attack of another cat. She was pinned down before she had a chance to do anything.

”What are you doing here?”

It was a tom, with long black fur and light golden eyes. At first she thought his stare was cold, but then she caught a light of interest behind his gaze. The combination of dark pelt and bright eyes reminded her momentarily of a crow. But unlike a bird, he was pinning her to the ground, paws on top of her shoulders. That certainly wasn’t the best wake-up call.

Perchstar twisted beneath him with a quiet grunt of exertion, throwing him off expertly. It wasn’t like her to be caught off-guard, but she knew enough about fighting to get out of amateur holds like that. ”I wasn’t aware this was your area,” she said neutrally. ”I simply needed a place to sleep. I plan to leave immediately, so please excuse me.”

She began to exit the small pathway, but the tom moved to block her. His voice remained laid-back, almost careless, but there was an intentness to his movements. ”Hold on. I never said this was my area. It does belong to a nasty gang of alley cats, though, so I wouldn’t advise sticking around. Where did you come from? Everyone knows to avoid this part of town.”

It was far too early in the morning to deal with this. She had too much else to worry about. Perchstar kept a neutral expression on her face, but her torn ear flicked in a gesture of mild irritation. ”None of your business. I believe I’ll be going now.”

The tom frowned. ”Without even sparring with me? That’s just rude.”

Without any further warning, he leapt for her again, eyes narrowing as he attempted to resume their fight. However, Perchstar was ready this time. She sidestepped his attempted lunge, then took advantage of his compromised position to grab his scruff in her teeth. It was difficult, since he was around the same size as her, but she managed to gain enough momentum to shake him and toss him back on the ground. He lay there for a moment, golden eyes blinking up at her, dazed.

”I have no time to spar with rogues,” she said coldly, lashing her tail once behind her. ”You’d best look for some other partner. Goodbye.”

Perchstar turned to go, keeping an ear directed behind her in case the tom attempted to jump her again. Hopefully he had learned his lesson.

His voice came from behind her--slightly winded, but now with more obvious interest. “Oh. You’re a wild cat, aren’t you? I’ve seen fighting techniques like this before.”

The leader paused, turning her head over her shoulder. ”...Wild cat? What do you mean?”

The black tom was scrambling to his paws. ”Wild cats, like those ones from the forest. You eat other cats, right? I used to live pretty close to the forest. It was a while ago, but I recognize that fighting style.”

”You know where the forest is?” She considered him carefully, eyes narrowed. Maybe, if he knew... Just maybe....

”Maybe. Maybe not.” The tom shrugged, walking a little bit closer. ”What’s it to you? Don’t tell me that a mighty wild cat got lost in these streets.”

Perchstar forced her fur not to bristle. Why was she wasting time talking with him? She needed to be exploring and finding a way back to RiverClan as soon as possible, not exchanging words with some full-of-himself rogue. Her leader-formed tendency to not admit any sign of weakness kept her from wanting to continue this conversation further... she didn’t like that he had the edge of information on her. Without responding, she turned again to go.

”Watch your step, wild cat,” he called after her. ”Lots of folks here won’t take kindly to an intruder brushing them off.”

She ignored him. If all other rogues in this area were like him, she would have no trouble defending herself if the time came to it. But for now, she needed to focus on escape.

Thankfully, he didn’t follow her. As the sun gradually rose higher in the sky, staving off the chilly air with its distant early newleaf warmth, Perchstar traveled along dark side paths and between enormous Twoleg dens. Everything began to blend together. All the same strange Thunderpath pavement, the smell of which was beginning to no longer faze her; the same gray and brown and beige materials blocking her way; the same piles of crowfood and wispy garbage that piled up by every wall. Still, she tried to stay in the quieter areas, avoiding any actual Twolegs. Any time that she even heard a monster nearby, she pressed herself into the nearest corner, curling up as small as she could and trying not to shake. So far, none of them had found her. But she couldn’t keep her heart rate from skyrocketing the moment she heard that ominous growling sound.

After roughly half a day of wandering the streets, it was getting harder to ignore her rumbling stomach. Perchstar was no stranger to working with very little food, water, or rest, but her exhaustion and hunger on top of her already-stressful situation was becoming too much to deal with all at once. She hadn’t even had time to stop and clean the dirt from her fur after a pile of filthy objects had collapsed under her paws when she’d attempted to climb on it for a better vantage point. In all likelihood, she was a complete mess, with brown stains on her white patches and the lingering exhaustion making her ears droop. If Poppyshine could see her now....

“You mustn’t overwork yourself like this, Perch…I know it is stressful times. I made myself ill with stress, so I am not one to talk…but the whole Clan is here for you. We are all working hard to avoid further tragedy. So please, remember that you can lean on us, alright?”

The memory stabbed at her heart, so Perchstar tore her mind away from it. She’d taken her friends for granted, and now none of them were here to support her. She was all alone. No one was going to force her to take care of herself... but how was she supposed to return home in this state?

Well, that was it. Her priorities needed to temporarily shift from finding a way out, to finding some food.

Perchstar stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, and attempted to smell the air.

All the scents she’d been trying to ignore for the past few hours had been gradually grinding at her senses. Nothing smelled familiar anymore; it wasn’t like the Beech Copse, full of the gentle scents of loam and tree bark, where the sound of a squirrel would jump out at you like a crash of thunder if you were listening closely enough. All of Twolegplace was a constant cacophony. As loath as she was to admit it, she had no clue how to hunt in this kind of environment. But she had no choice other than to try.

”If I were a rat in Twolegplace,” she murmured to herself, ”where would I go?”

Though it felt foolish, she bent down lower to the ground, trying to get a different vantage point. Perhaps if she looked at the dark side path from a rat’s point of view, she would find where one might hide out. But all she could really see from this angle was the dirt crusted onto the stones beneath her paws. It smelled even worse this close to the ground. Letting out a quiet snort, she was ready to give up--until she spotted a small hole in the side of a nearby wall. Her whiskers twitched. Carefully, she padded closer to it, peering into the darkness to see if this could possibly be some kind of entrance to a rat den. Though she didn’t see a single scrap of fur or a hint of a beady eye, there was a whiff of rat-scent emanating from the cavity.

Despite the rumbles of her stomach now being nearly as loud as a monster, Perchstar settled on her haunches next to the entrance of the crack, reasoning that if there truly was a rat in there, it would need to come out eventually. Perhaps, if she just waited long enough, she could ambush it before it caught her scent. Patience was becoming increasingly more difficult as hunger pangs gnawed their way into her chest. But her many moons’ experience in positions of authority had tempered her already unusually-high levels of control, and she was able to remain nearly perfectly still outside the hole, one paw raised slightly.

She was concentrating so hard on staying still, in fact, that she nearly missed even seeing the rat when it finally darted out of the entrance an hour or so later. But, blinking hard as she realized what she saw before her, the gray and white she-cat slammed her paw down onto the large rodent, trapping it while she unsheathed her claws. Then, with one swift bite, it was dead. Astonished, she stared at the unmoving lump of brown fur for a moment, so stunned to actually have fresh-kill before her that she had nearly forgotten what the next step in the process was. It took her a few moments to understand what had happened. But the scent of food (as musky and Twoleg-dirt-covered as it was) eventually reached her, and she bent down to eat it, most pretense of dignity completely gone as she ravenously tore into the first meal she’d had in days. She couldn’t remember being so grateful for such a small piece of prey before.

It didn’t take her long to finish. The rat, though wiry, had surprisingly little meat on its bones... and it was nowhere near as good as a juicy fish, or even a squirrel. But she would have been thankful for anything, even if it was the slimiest toad in the forest. As it was, she ate every bit of the rat that she could. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she even thanked the stars for its life, despite how angry with them she was right now. She’d gotten food, and that was what mattered.

Hunger pangs somewhat soothed, Perchstar took a moment to attempt to clean the filth that had been clinging to the rat’s fur out of her whiskers. But she stopped when she heard a sound behind her. Pawsteps.

She whirled around, alarmed, to see a small group of rangy-looking cats descending on her from one end of the path. There were maybe seven or ten of them; she didn’t quite have the presence of mind to count. Her reaction times were still sluggish from her exhaustion. By the time she had noticed them, she was surrounded. None of them looked particularly intimidating--not compared to a muscular brute like Bloodstrike or the eyes of a known murderer--but, despite being scraggle-furred and flea-bitten, they had claws out and probably knew how to use them. At least they hadn’t attacked her yet.

Perchstar did not unsheathe her own claws, but watched them carefully, her muscles tense, ears swiveling around so that she could begin defending herself at the first sign of trouble.

”Well, well. What have we here?” An orange tabby stepped through the crowd, sneering at her. ”I thought we’d made it pretty clear to the other groups that this was our territory.”

So, that black tom wasn’t wrong when he mentioned the rogue group in this area. Well, this was an annoying setback. She could probably take all of them in a fight... but being injured would make it far more difficult for her to find a way home. Still, she prepared herself to battle if necessary. ”I’m simply passing through,” she said neutrally, though she knew that cats like these were unlikely to listen to excuses.

”Oh! Just passing through, huh? Just helping yourself to our prey? Well, my mistake. What do you think, guys? Should we let her go?” The tabby turned back to the rest of the rogues. They nudged each other and snickered, whispering what she assumed were inaudible insults. Turning back to her, the tabby shrugged, a smirk on her face. ”I don’t think my pals are very satisfied with your answer.”

Perchstar let out a quiet sigh. She’d been hoping to avoid this... it would be inconvenient, but it seemed that there was no peaceful way out. Readying herself mentally for the wounds she was likely about to receive, the leader straightened into a standing position, her ice-blue eyes narrowed. What kind of warrior would she be if she couldn’t defeat rabble like this? ”If you attack me, I will have no choice but to fight back.”

”Fight back?” the tabby gasped. ”Oh, no! I’m so scared!” Her faux-worried expression morphed into a contemptuous glare, and she lowered herself into a position obviously prepared to spring forward. ”Well, if you insist, then we can oblige!”

”Ah--I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Gin.”

The voice came from above. Perchstar and the rogues looked up to find its source. It was the black tom who had awoken her earlier. He was lying lazily on the top of one of the buildings, his long tail waving back and forth as he gazed down at them.

”Not you again,” the tabby--Gin--snarled. ”What do you want? Can’t you see we’re busy?”

The black cat tilted his head. ”Yes, yes, busy leading your entire little band to ruin. Well, don’t let me stop you, I suppose. It’s not like your gang would have lasted much longer anyway.”

”...Ruin?” Gin asked suspiciously. ”What are you on about? Do you seriously think we can’t take one cat in a fight?”

”Ah. But this isn’t any ordinary cat. Can’t you tell? Or were you abandoned for your brains as well as your looks?”

Gin hissed, ragged orange fur bristling. However, she looked at Perchstar again, her eyes slitted as she attempted to size her up. ”I mean sure, she’s got a couple battle scars. But so do the rest of us. What makes some rat-stealer so special?”

”Dear me. Don’t tell me that the great Gin can’t tell a wild cat when she sees one?”

If it weren’t for the fact that she was surrounded, Perchstar would have snuck away long ago. Instead, she had been listening to these two rogues bicker for far longer than she would have liked. Her eye twitched at hearing the term “wild cat” directed at her once again. She wanted nothing more than to find a way up to where that tom was sitting and smack him across the face... but then again, perhaps it was in her best interests to play along right now.

”Wild cat?” Gin scoffed. ”Those are just old mother’s tales. No one really believes them.” Still, it was with a slightly apprehensive twitch of her whiskers that she met Perchstar’s gaze again.

”Don’t you? I mean, just look at her.” The tom’s voice was dramatic. ”Look at how freakishly tall she is. And those fangs! Why, do you really mean to tell me she couldn’t strip you and your gang to the bone in an hour flat?”

Exasperated, Perchstar glared up at the black cat. He nodded imperceptibly at her, eyes widening as if to tell her to go along with what he was saying. She kept her sigh inaudible and instead bared her fangs at the group.

”And she must be very hungry if she’s bothering to eat something as awful as your rats,” he continued. ”I’ve heard wild cats like drinking blood to quench their thirst. I don’t know about you, but I prefer to keep my skin intact, thank you very much.”

Gin flinched. ”I-I’m not scared of wild cats! I don’t believe that at all! We’ve still got the numbers on her, anyway!”

”Oh... do you?” the tom asked idly. ”And what do your numbers say?”

Gin turned to look at her group of rogues. They all seemed much more hesitant now. One or two had already begun to back away. Perchstar turned to look at a tortoiseshell who was hovering near her shoulder. One glare--the kind she’d perfected in order to scare apprentices out of doing something foolish--was enough to send the rogue scampering off.

”Hey! Get back here!” But it was too late. Most of her friends had already broken ranks. Gin whirled back on the high-perched tom, snarling in frustration. ”This is just another one of your tricks, isn’t it? Did you two team up to come steal our food?”

”You really think I would do such a thing?” The tom put on a very convincingly hurt expression. ”My dear Gin, I promise that I would never steal from the same group twice. And besides, why would I team up with a wild cat? She’d drink my blood just the same as yours.”

”I--I still don’t believe she can do that!”

As annoying as this whole ordeal was, Perchstar knew that she was being presented with a way to get out of this unscathed. So she leaned forward, face set in a threateningly blank glare, closer to Gin. A very careful snarl showed her sharp white fangs. ”Would you like to bet?”

Gin stared at her for a moment. Then, hackles raising, she ran off, fleeing with the rest of her ragtag band down the dark pathway.

Perchstar did not allow her tense shoulders to relax until the sound of claws scrabbling on dirt-caked stone finally dissipated. Then, she let out a long sigh. Disaster had been narrowly avoided.

”You’re not going to thank me?”

The leader raised her eyes to see the tom was still lounging up there, tail idly swishing back and forth. Still, in his yellow eyes, that intent look had returned.

She snorted. ”For what? I had it under control.”

”Mm... it looked to me like you were in trouble. Even someone like you would’ve had difficulty with that many cats at once, no?”

Perchstar was getting too tired to hide her emotions. Her tail lashed once behind her. ”Look,” she snapped. ”I don’t know why you expect thanks, or why you are following me around. But I have no interest in fighting or in making friends. I am simply trying to return home, and I do not appreciate being interrupted.”

The tom shook his head. ”Well, if you truly wish for me to leave you alone, then I suppose I will. But I figured that you may want some assistance navigating... Forgive me for presuming, but you seem lost. Anyone who knew what they were doing would have gotten far away by now.”

She should have been offended. She hated others noticing her weaknesses; she had tried hard to keep this specific fact from him when he had jumped her in the morning. But after nearly two days’ worth of fruitless wandering, the prospect of any kind of help was tempting. The gray and white she-cat huffed, but sat down, meeting his eyes with her own measured gaze. ”Though I hate to admit anything of the sort, I... am out of my depth. I was taken here against my will and have very little idea of how to return home.” She wrapped her tail around her paws as thoughts of RiverClan swept through her for a moment, making her sure she could almost smell the distant scent of creek silt. ”I have no intention of spending any more time in this place than necessary. All I want is to go back to the forest.”

The tom nodded, as if this was what he had been expecting. ”Well, you certainly are a long way from home. The forest is at least a few days’ journey from here... I haven’t been to that part of town since I was young. But I do know how I could get you home.”

”You do? Then...” Oh, she hated this. She hated asking some smug rogue for help. But she was out of options at this point. Her pride was unimportant; she would do anything if it meant returning to Poppyshine and Stormdance and RiverClan. ”Would you help me? Please.”

”Well, since you asked so nicely....” He leapt gracefully down from the structure, landing on a few well-placed boxes before ending up in front of her. Golden eyes stared into hers. ”I would be happy to assist you, wild cat. But on one condition.”

Of course... It was too good to be true. Perchstar sighed quietly, but nodded. ”What would you like in return?”

”Fight me.”

She blinked.

”Oh, not right now, of course., he said dismissively. ”But before you go home... you need to spar with me, once. No holds barred. I want to fight a wild cat and learn your techniques.” His gaze was serious. ”That’s all I ask.”

The offer was almost suspiciously easy. She still found it odd that he was so obsessed with fighting her. Was it just his personality? He wasn’t defending territory or family; he simply wanted to spar for... pleasure, or something. Maybe it was just really about learning techniques, as he suggested.

Still--it was a small price to pay for returning home. As much as she disliked this tom, she would have given nearly anything for his help, if what he promised was genuine.

”I will,” she said. ”Before I return. If you can truly take me home, I will fight with you as you requested.”

The tom broke into a smile. ”Wonderful! Well then, there is no time to waste, wild cat. Let us be off. Daylight won’t last forever.” He began to saunter forwards, beckoning for her to follow.

”You can’t just keep calling me ‘wild cat,’” she protested, starting after him.

”Oh? Then what should I call you?” He didn’t stop walking, but he glanced over his shoulder, eyes glimmering with curiosity.

Do I really want to tell him my name? Well, a bit of near-honesty wouldn’t hurt anything. She considered for a moment before answering. ”...Perch. My name is Perch.”

He tilted his head for a moment, as if thinking about it. Then he nodded. ”All right... Perch it is.”

”And... what should I call you?”

The black tom smiled. ”Felix.”

What an odd name. Still, she felt marginally better about this deal now that she could put a name to the face she’d be spending the next few days with. Perchstar blinked slowly. ”Okay. Let’s go.”

With that, they were off through the streets.