STRANGERS LIKE ME [skyy]

It wasn’t very often that Pinestar was told of a rogue wanting to speak to him. Of course, it had happened in the past. Once in his first moon as leader, and plenty to Teaselstar while he was deputy. Yet, it has his interest peaked, a young, rather pathetic looking tom who wished to talk to him about joining the clan. He almost wanted to scoff at the mere idea of it. Rogues were rogues, there was barely anything good about them. His last mistake brought into the clan certainly hadn’t turned into anything worthwhile. Hawkpaw had only proved himself to be constantly petrified of the clan around him and unwilling to accept the full expectancies than came with it. If he hadn’t been a kit (Pinestar would never turn away a kit, StarClan forbid, he respected the warrior code more than that), no doubt he would have sent the cat on his way if he showed such tendencies.

Yet, wasn’t that the point a cat was supposed to help? To open their heart and try to improve life? He supposed it was. Maybe that was why he was even bothering with this meeting, simply due to the descriptions Lioncloud had muttered his direction of the cat’s state. He didn’t sound a threat, and certainly didn’t sound like the typical every-cat-for-themselves sort of rogue Pinestar was used to. He sounded like another lost soul. Maybe it was his compassion winning out over logic for once. Who knew. No matter how much Pinestar might have pondered on the why and what as he slowly padded through the twisting roots and thin undergrowth of the forest, the fact was he was attending this requested meeting, and he had his ears and heart open. The rogue had better make the trip worthwhile, if he was serious. There was always the chance that it was nothing but a panicked blubber while he tried to escape.

Pinestar brought his movements to a slow, his sharp amber eyes peering through the trees toward the border. Sure enough, tabby and white fur stuck out against the tall oaks, the tangy, unfamiliar scent of the cat wafting down toward him, along with the scent of something else. Squirrel. For a moment, he was suspicious. Had this cat really been treading inside the territory of the clan he was asking to join? Yet, he couldn’t taste the cat’s scent anywhere else nearby. It came from one direction alone. He supposed, there were plenty of other trees in the forest. Pinestar started to move again, lifting himself tall, and puffing out his own tabby and white fur with a huff. His head and tail stood high, and the leader made no effort to conceal his movements, paws cracking against a few stray sticks that lay across the soft forest floor. He didn’t speak straight away, his gaze just focused on the rogue, studying him carefully and quickly, sizing him up.

Lioncloud had been correct. He looked like he’d just crawled out of the river, underfed, no muscle definition, and a certain look about him that just sung of a cat who wasn’t looking after themselves. It was almost sad, and Pinestar took great effort to hide his pity behind a solid, neutral stare. “Now then, you’d be this rogue I’ve heard about,” he meowed, deep voice reaching out without attention to volume. It rumbled through his body, snapped through the nearby trees. If his clan were to stumble on them, he didn’t want the meeting to be secret. Pinestar turned his attention from scanning the tom, to meeting his gaze, and flicking an ear. “Have you got a name?”