of different worlds [grub/hank solo]

Mottled orange and black slunk through the brush, black nose guiding him along the trail of a particularly intriguing scent he had come across the last time he had poked about ThunderClan territory: an overwhelming scent that hurt even your throat. Twisting around foliage and cracked rocks, Grub found two of the most enticing sights since the mountain camp: an old storm drain that had weeds sprouting from its cracks... And a large red cat laid sprawled halfway out of it with no care in the world.

The much smaller tom made no attempt to keep to himself, or even approach in a way that wouldn't startle the biggest cat he'd ever seen. He pushed through the overgrown brush and into the sunlight that pierced the leaves of the trees above. The red tom didn't move an inch, large head lazily turned in his direction, tail swishing passively. Was it because he was so big? Or maybe this cat had already known he was there before he even arrived? "Hello, friend!" For once in his life, Grub chose to keep a distance between him and the toms overgrown paws. He would not make it out alive if this cat chose to act.

"...Not friend." Ha ha. Yikes. While not a hostile return, it made Grub shuffle his paws awkwardly to be turned down so immediately; And by such a deep, growl of a voice. The way this monster spoke made it clear he was not of the forest even outside of his weird appearance. A thick and heavy accent that smothered the only two words he spoke made him want more. Who is this guy? Where had he come from? Why was he here, of all places? His whiskers involuntary shuddered as he fought the corners of his mouth from twisting into a strange grin. Mr. Worm had told him to cut that out.

---

"Away with you. Now." Hank just wanted to be alone today. The hustle and bustle of this... 'clan' life was not for him. Their camp was far too small and vulnerable, and their leader the size of a mouse. He had grown tired of pretending he wasn't starved by not taking his fill of the prey within this small patch of land, or depleting their fresh kill pile every day. This place sucked and he found himself often casting glances to the horizon whenever he lazed about the forests canopy - or what sad excuse for a forest this was.

He found himself growing irritable by the day, going as far as forcing himself to split from his companions (even if he didn't truly care for them) even though they were his last grasp on what had been his life before this. The evils of man knew no bounds. They would take and take until there was nothing left. It would be surprising if he managed to return to his island and the forest still be there--

Hadn't he told the overgrown rat to leave? The hair on this masked cat was simultaneously slicked back and sticking up with what looked to be... sweat? Tree sap? He didn't know. He didn't want to find out. Unfortunately, the tom began to speak again. He wasn't listening at first, eyes glazed over with thoughts of his own.

But then the tom took a step forward, forcing Hank to instinctively unleash a nasty hiss.

---

Grub got the hint, halting his steps immediately. Many time in his life had he been scared. But there was never a time where he truly feared for his life like he did now. Boundaries could be pushed with any other cat but this one. "Easy, easy! I'm just a wanderer passing through. Not looking to pick a fight." What and ugly guy. Fierce and scary. But oh so hideous. Tiny head, too. "You don't look or sound like you're from around here... What's your story? Oh! And my name is Grub, by the way. " A back paw stepped backwards in preparation to flee for his life should the cat not like his prodding; not that he'd make it. He definitely would try though.

---

Normally he would not entertain such a sleazy looking cat. There was no doubt this... Grub was an untrustworthy tom. However, Hank did respect the audacity and confidence to over stay his welcome.

Piercing, yellow eyes held the curious gaze of the pathetic creature whose cowardice was clear. He smelled strange, but not ThunderClan strange. The passive thought that he could just kill the tom and go about the rest of this day in peace did cross his mind. "Far. A [unknown tongue]. Sand and blue waters filled of salt lining a lush forest. Here? Sucks. I will go home." Yes. Home.

---

What was that? Grub felt as though he had suddenly forgotten his own language as Hank spoke. What an odd tongue... Oh, how he loved it! He continued to no eagerly as Hank continued. Even if short, it was better than nothing. "That sounds like a lovely place... You must be sad to not be there right now, huh? How'd you end up in this dump?"

---

How indeed. It had happened so fast, the red tom couldn't even begin to understand it himself. "[unknown tongue]. Suddenly, iron bars surround me. The ground beneath unsteady, like waves." He had been hunting, a delicious bird under his claws. A pinch in his side. Blurry vision. Darkness. He had woke up in a dark, damp cage of iron - the only sounds were of other creatures crying for help and lapping of waves. Whatever had happened that dreadful day, Hank only knew that he was far from the place he called home; far from his friends and family.

Eyes narrowed. "Killed a fleshy beast. Escaped with two. Forest looked like home, but it is not. A small cat welcomed me and [unknown tongue]. Motherstar of ThunderClan is the tiny ones name. A good cat." He may not get a chance to tell the ThunderClan leader he was thankful for what she provided them, but he felt gratitude nonetheless.

Speaking of cats he may not get the chance to say goodbye to... He had gotten too close to a she-cat he couldn't even remember the name of in his time with ThunderClan. She approached him with the news that she was with kits. Holding no feelings for this molly, it was hard to feign any interest at all and it had saddened her greatly. The kits would be her problem; he had no intention of staying here any longer than he had to. No time for attachments.

Realizing he had been quiet for too long, he sighed. "I am sorry to leave kits with no father. Was a mistake."

---

From what he could gather, this guy hadn't come here alone. Though whoever they were, he couldn't quite make that part out. If only he had the patience to learn this cats language - not that he would humor Grub like that. The mangy tom nodded in silent awe, taking in every broken word. He had never met such an interesting cat before and he would treasure this moment for as long as he could.

At the mention of leaving kits behind, Grub spoke up. "Leaving them behind? So you're leaving the forest. But where would you go? I haven't been past the mountains but, by the looks of it, they're covered in snow. You don't look the winter type."

---

Snow? Hank had not experienced whatever this was, but he held extreme confidence that he'd deal with it fine. "[unknown tongue]. I grow tired of you, Grub. Leave me." His story was finished and he was in an even worse mood than before.

---

Awe. So soon? He wanted to push for more. To learn of these other beasts that traveled alongside him. But it was clear the tom had put a paw down - next could be claws. "Well... Thanks for the story. I'll get going, but I don't think I caught your name...?"

---

"Hank." The greasy tom bowed his head, leaping backwards and back into the brush. A large, toothy yawn escaped Hank before he finally closed his eyes, victim to the warm sun.

---

Hank... Actually a really lame name for such a beast. Easy to remember, though.

There was no second glance at the red tom as he tore on through the forest, not waiting for Hank to change his mind on letting him live. Kits, though? Maybe he'd be back to check those out just to see what kind of offspring a guy like Hank could produce.