(open for anyone who wants to stumble across Smolder’s path :) )

high in the loft of an old barn, the ginger form of a cat lay snoozing. His long fur prickled with stalks and his pas aches from walking, but Smolder barely noticed. This was the first chance he’d had to catch a rest in a place that seemed totally safe in a while- and he reveled in it. The young tom stretched his soft paws in front of him, flexing his claws to watch them through slitted golden eyes. They were much sharper now than they’d been in a while; he’d started sharpening them every chance he got after a close encounter with a loose dog. Luckily it was barely larger than him and it’s two legs were nearby, but the fright had left him shaking for a whole night.

Smolder could see through a crack in the wood of the barn that the sun was rising high. It was time to get moving again. The tom groaned and flopped to his paws, stretching luxuriously; he wouldn’t let another day of walking ruin his happy mood from his night of good sleep. Besides, he was the one who had decided to travel and explore. Smolder yawned and flicked his tail cheerfully before hopping down from the hay loft to one of the stacks below, eventually making his way to the floor. The young tom sauntered into the chilly sunlight, fluffing up his long fur reflexively. He hoped to meet someone interesting on his journey today like he had a few sunrises early. That cat had told him of exactly what he wanted to hear- the clans. The loner hadn’t known much, but Smolder was simply glad to have proof that they really existed. Not that he didn’t trust his mother, but he had been awfully young when she’d told him the stories; he wasn’t sure he could trust himself! But now he knew that the clans really existed and a thrill shot through his heart. He must be getting closer! The clans were his end goal...but he still intended to enjoy the journey on the way. With all these things swirling through his mind, Smolder shook out his fluffed up coat to dislodge some of the hay and set out along the fence that marked the edge of this twoleg’s territory, keeping an eye out for dogs, cats, and any signs that he was headed in the right direction.

( @The Cannibal )
Smolder had paused in a clump of bracken to rest his paws and snack on a small mouse that had practically run straight into his claws. After slowly stretching each limb and cleaning away the last scraps of mouse, Smolder pulled himself to his paws and stepped back onto the ragged dirt path he’d been following in the hopes that it would lead somewhere. His day had been boring so far, but Smolder shrugged it off and told himself to be thankful that he hadn’t run into any trouble. Then again, he couldn’t help feeling that running into other cats would be a sign that he was on the right path. Deep in thoughts about his destination and worry about whether he was simply wandering about in circles, Smolder didn’t notice the scent of other cats when the wind changed. He had had no formal training, after all, and it wasn’t uncommon to smell cats around here. With real training, like the one he sought with the clans, Smolder would have been able to discern the difference between the stale cat smell that often drifted past and the sudden onslaught of fresh scent before it was too late. As it was, he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until he heard the pawsteps behind him. Smolder spun around only to meet the sneer of a much taller, much more muscular rogue with two of his friends behind him. Smolder’s ears pinned themselves to his head and his fur spiked. There was no way he could fight these cats or even defend himself; he had one choice. The ginger tom threw himself to the side and spun to face the way he’d been going, sprinting like a golden stream down the path with his eyes tearing one way and the other in desperate search for a place to hide. The thunder of pawsteps behind him drowned out his own pounding heart and Smolder could feel panic clawing it’s way through him. He needed to calm down. He needed to think. The young cat focused on relaxing, trying to clear his mind and think his next actions through. Suddenly, Smolder came up short, tumbling paws over tail into the dust in a painful sprawl. He blinked shock and pain out of his golden eyes, assessing his limbs and searching for what had stopped him so suddenly at the same time. Another rogue, smaller than the others but still frightening, snarled down at him from where he’d been crouching and waiting to throw Smolder to the side. The young loner struggled to his paws, limping backward a few pawsteps until he heard the snarls behind him as well. Heart sinking, Smolder tried his best to swallow his fear and draw himself up to seem big but he was much younger and smaller than the cats that surrounded him. All he could do was brace himself and search for a way out.

@Wolfie @The Cannibal
Smolder blinked in surprise as a new cat appeared out of nowhere and jumped into the fray. It took him all of a second to realize this cat wasn’t interested in eating him for lunch or whatever it was the others wanted from him but the split second of fear that another cat was there to attack him felt like a lifetime. Smolder was left speechless as the bigger cat began to battle the rogues for him and all he could do was stare dumbly and vaguely wonder if this was a clan cat. Snap out of it! he yowled at himself in his brain, now is most definitely not the time to feed your clan addiction!

He shook himself and regained the ability to move just in time to both hear his new ally ask after his ability to fight- rightly so, a voice wheedled in his head- and to duck the claws that flew at him. He unsheathed his own freshly sharpened claws and leapt before his attacker could right herself. His outstretched claws connected with her shoulder and he felt them rend her skin. The rogue let out a hiss of pain and Smolder skidded clumsily to a stop a few taillengths away, huffing; he turned his attention to his helper and offered a nod and a grin in answer. The young tom returned to fighting the rogue- who was bleeding and furious- but he began to falter beneath her barrage of blows. Smolder was for the most part untrained and he and his mysterious benefactor were still outnumbered.

Before long, a second rogue had descended on him and Smolder’s heart sank. There was no way he could hold off two cats at once when he’d been struggling just to battle the one. Proving his unspoken fear, the two rogues easily pinned him and began to shred through ginger fur and tender pink skin. Smolder bit back a yowl and thrust upward to dislodge the cat stop him only for the second to send him flying into the base of a nearby tree. Smolder has just deliriously lifted his head when he saw a streak of fur plow into one of the attackers; he thought he was imagining it at first, but no- there was a new cat in the fight and he was (thank the stars) on Smolder’s side. The ginger breathed a sigh of relief, pulled himself painfully from the root he lay on, and faced his original attacker- huffing heavily, but snarling like a warrior.

@Wolfie @The Cannibal
Smolder was too focused on the cat before him to notice the sudden spray of blood at first, but he did notice the crimson drops that smacked into his muzzle and clung to the pale ginger fur that grew there. He took his eyes away from the rogue for merely a moment to see the other rogue convulsing on the ground, bleeding heavily from his throat. Smolder’s own throat convulsed in a gulp and he blinked in shock, but a growl from the other rogue stole back his attention and Smolder’s talent for handling emergencies took over. His subconscious carefully stored the image of the dying rogue away in the depths of his mind and slowed his heart rate, while Smolder consciously focused on battling. His eyes were like hawks’ on the ugly rogue before him and he was prepared when his opponent lunged. Smolder shrunk in on himself at the last second and the rogue skidded over the smal form of the 6 moon old cat. Exhilarated by the events of the battle, Smolder tried a move he’d never heard of or attempted before, twisting to take his claws down his opponent’s belly-exposed only to him. Smolder waited too long to start and was only able to slash the latter half of the rogues body, but it injured his opponent enough that the bigger cat careened directly into the spot where the other cat was waiting. Smolder watched breathlessly as Hannibal crippled the rogue, feeling a stir of satisfaction mixed with the twisting feeling of watching serious injuries. He wasn’t sure that it was necessary to kill and cripple the rogues, but he was far too thankful for the other cats ‘ help to criticize either of them. “Nicely done!” He called to Hannibal in a breathless voice, surveying the area around them rather than focusing on his wounds- which were beginning to throb.

( @The Cannibal @Wolfie )
Smolder laugher wryly at Hannibal’s observation and nodded, “feels like they did too.” He knew the other cat was right in suggesting he start taking care of the wounds and sat down to start, wincing with each movement. The young tom had a chance to think now as he rasped his tongue over the swollen pink flesh that was starting to ooze slower. He felt physically and mentally drained, and couldn’t resist hunching over in fatigue while he licked away the blood and dirt that colored his ginger pelt.
Hannibal’s question took him by surprise, though, and he paused to look at the tom thoughtfully. Smolder had to admit, it was tempting; he didn’t particularly enjoy seeing death nor the remains. In fact, he surely would dream about it for moons and if it weren’t for the last tendrils of shock still wrapping g around his brain he might have thrown up. Yet, this cat had lost his life so that Smolder could keep his own and the young tom felt that he had to honor that. If he was capable of being involved in the death of another, justified or not, he should be able to deal with the aftermath. Flicking his golden eyes from the dead cat back to Hannibal, Smolder gave a determined shake of his head, “No, that’s alright. He may have attacked me, but I don’t believe he deserves to be tossed aside like rotten prey. I don’t have the strength to bury him right now, though, so he can stay where he is for now. A cat has to be able to handle the consequences of his actions, right?”
Smolder hoped that Hannibal would understand that, while the young tom hadn’t killed the cat himself, he was partly responsible for his death- the same as the rogue was responsible for his own death by going out of his way to attack a stranger. Returning to grooming away the unsightly red and brown splotches, Smolder turned his attention to the other cat who’d come to his rescue, “how are you doing?” Then he addresses both and nodded his head to them, “My name’s Smolder. Thank you for your assistance.”
( sure @TeamRiverRipple)