// @
Larkstripe
The kitten... great stars, it was so small. How had it evaded other patrols for so long? Fallenheart could almost make out the bones under its scrawny pelt. Obviously, it needed food. A good bit of food.
"Yes, I am a clan cat," the ghost tabby murmured in a hopefully soothing voice, the same he used for his siblings many moons ago, and he ignored his own urge to escape and think this through first.
"I won't hurt you," he repeated certainly. After a moment of silence, Fallenheart crouched down, just slightly higher than eye-level with the kit and meowed quietly,
"My name is Fallenheart. Do you have one?"