@
sunflowerseed
Jojo bristled at the tom’s words.
“You need to get your nose checked, then!” she growled. She never bothered to put scent markers down, but she spent enough time here that she assumed her scent would be pretty noticeable. This tom was one she had never seen before, and he didn’t smell or look like he was from around here. She assumed he was just someone passing through.
“I live here,” she spat,
“most of the time. This is my territory and you were hunting on it!” With the winter only getting harsher, prey was becoming more and more scarce in the forest. She didn’t want cats stealing the prey in the area or scaring it away—even though her voice had probably scared away any prey in the immediate area.
“Fine. Just—explains yourself, and leave. I don’t have time for this.” She didn’t sit, but she seemed to relax a little. At least he didn’t want to fight. Jojo was an interesting sight for any cat she met—covered in scars, but with a pristine red collar around her neck. Was she a kittypet who got into fights, a runaway kittypet, or a rogue-turned-housecat? Most cats had their own idea of what she was and why she kept the collar, since she was reluctant to give away her motive.