chillin by the pool in a nice big chair (open)

Now this, this was the place to be!

At a spot once called Sunningrocks, a large, grey cat lounged on the tallest stone. Evidence of a feathery meal lay scattered about, brown and cream feathers sticking to wherever the wind blew them by dots of still-fresh blood. The cat, called Ramone, stirred from their shallow nap with a long stretch. Another wonderfully lazy day. They’d never been happier to have days like this in their life again.

“Those bands of idiots took the place for granted!” They laughed to themselves, rolling on their back to really take in the winter sun on their fluffy, satisfyingly full belly. In another season they would’ve scratched over the claw marks they’d seen scattered across these stones and erase what was left of the clans. But right now their claws would be better used to help feed their crew. They couldn’t bite themselves in the foot by dulling the points right now. Unlike some, clearly. With one paw raised they traced the outline of the trees across the river, wondering if any of the crew had found a way across to there without touching that freezing, garbage-scented water. They wanted to know what sorts of places could be hiding. Maybe more like here? That would be incredible. It meant they could tell everyone else about the rocks they were laying on now and they’d still get a prime sunning spot if they wanted to chill alone.

With their stomach pleasantly warmed, the muscley cat twisted to face the forest they’d come from, trying to think of things to do before Moonhigh. It was almost boring, not having to be on high alert all the time. No growlers, no baldies, and no real enemy cats. Sure forest predators loped about, but they were all leagues better to deal with over the average street dog. There were rumors about a few cats setting up in one of the clan’s abandoned camps. They could try to find them, recruit them perhaps. Otherwise they’d have to have some sort of agreement or else there’d bound to be an altercation at some point or another. Although that sounded like a Captain problem, not a Ramone problem.

It was at this point they heard a noise of something approaching, and knowing how similar they and their rock looked, the rogue remained still as they focused their ears on the sound. Friend or foe? Or undecided?

note to self: happens before dog fight lol

Rose had picked up the scent of blood.

Warily, the silver she-cat made her way along the riverbank, fur still dripping from the water. Her thick pelt kept the worst of the chill and water out, and it was always best to have an easy escape-route close to paw. She had grown up swimming in arctic streams, after all, and even the frigid ocean a few times, after a terrifying mishap; this river was easy enough to cross, and she would not freeze. The thought, indeed, was laughable.

If it were not for the feathers and blood on the rocks, even Rose’s eyes, accustomed to picking apart natural camouflage as they were, might’ve missed the grey cat sitting on the stone. As it was, after a moment her eyes focused, and she waved her tail in shy greeting, relieved. She wasn’t quite as close to the other cats in the rogue group as many of them were, seeing as how most had known each other for moons on end, but she knew this one’s name- Ramone.

“Greetings,” she called quietly, scanning her surroundings for prey. She had not yet been as lucky as the other rogue, after all. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a hare go by? It managed to get away with a nicked ear, regrettably.”