Chapter I: Rolling Stones

He shivered from nose to tail tip not at all bothered by how the cool season came so quickly. Then again, little did surprise him specifically on how the warm season changed to cool seasons and back again.

"How much longer before we break again?" The question rose and fell like the moon panning the star-struck skies. It was an elicit information that had to be dragged out-if not by the leader or senior cats-then by his blood kin.

A white pelt matching that of fluffy white clouds strode next to the juvenile. His bright amber gaze flickered into light humor as he equally padded with the agitated young tom. One, solitary grey ear twitched in minor greeting though it wasn't necessary.

His voice rumbled with much patience," be still, my son, there's something to enjoy with our constant travels. You should lighten up a little for things will only get better if you see them fit to be."

The long-haired tom regarded his father with a sour grumble. "You will never see me try."

"You wanna bet a couple of mouse tails for that?"

The loose band of rogues stopped as a single tail stuck straight up in the air. And for good reason as a swath of scents layered on the young tom's scent glands making him gag. His father shut his own mouth closed as-he too-caught on to a tiny whiff, but an amused twitch of his whiskers banished all unpleasantries.

"We're here," a voice bellowed from ahead of the troop. The young tom sat on his haunches wrapping his tail around his once white paws now caked with mud and other marshland debris.

The gray tom leading them continued," we will rest near their scent line or 'borderline' as they call it. They should be used to my scent by now. I'm hoping we come across one of their cats now but we may have come too late."

"Why wait?" A heavily striped tabby cat meowed. "Won't a whole group of us cause suspicion?"

The leader blinked. "True, but fanning out each and every one of you day by day would cause more harm than good. This is the best possible solution if not more."

Fog, the one always avoiding a fight. The passionate speech giver and sympathetic senior cat. The responsible one recognized by his good-temperament. The leader of wise, careful words and a strong resolve.

"Bland." He muttered. A pelt brushed him nearly knocking him off his paws. He snapped his head back spotting the dark striped tabby strut across the marshland as if he owned it. Blue eyes glanced over at glowering pale golden.

Delta. Clever. Silver-tongued and a heavy migraine to settle on. Obnoxious. Boastful and too proud to hold his water.

He yawned, adverting his seething gaze. "Delinquent."

"And what does that make you, Hail?"

Hail looked up to see a lithe she-cat. Pools of a shimmering yellow enveloped into his eyes making his fur spike along his spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He twisted around to groom down his ruffled long fur.

She snorted. "Oh, I'm sure you do."

"And how would you know?"

"I know a lot of things revolving around your brooding routine."

"...I do not. You're just assuming things like you always do."

"Well," she placed a delicate paw over her chest, appalled. "I certainly do not. I make careful calculations and predict the most possible outcome. How could you say such a thing?"

"That's how assumptions usual go." He flicked his tail as a-matter-of-fact. "Ragtag, though this is in your nature to annoy me and the burning desire to crawl under my skin very much pleases you, this isn't one of those days to try and get on my unlikable side."

Ragtag giggled. Her paw reaching up to her sputtering lips. "Was that supposed to be in general or currently?"

Hail lashed his tail from side to side clearly agitated by this nitpicking she-cat.

"What do you think?" He spat.

She shrugged her scrawny shoulders. "Beats me. Anyways, I think Fog is sending out a hunting group. Want to tag along?"

Hail didn't see the harm in going with her. I'll get the peace and quiet I need out there. His ears swiveled toward the frosted marshland. He wasn't too keen on actually finding prey but a break from the odd troop of cats was enough to send him running to hunt.

"...I didn't get an answer. Was that a yes or a no?"

Hail scowled, pushing himself to his paws and padding past the chipper ginger cat. She soon followed him, tail held high. The crunch of icy, dead tree leaves added a different pace to his usually quiet demeanor.

. . .

Long strands of fur brushed the pine-needled ground for the tenth time. Teeth gritting and tail lashing as his concentration was once again broken by a deliberate cough.

"Will you be quiet, please?" He hissed softly losing another small morsel. It was vole. His favorite.

A dark tabby shape filed into the cover of reeds. "Oh, did I make you miss your catch? I'm so sorry." He jeered.

Hail growled wanting to claw some sense into Delta. Oh yes, he tagged along just to make sure the younger of the two had an eye watching him just in case. They had to keep the young' in line and that cat just so happened to be Delta.

"...You have my word." His chin up as he graciously offered to watch over Ragtag and him. "Not a single beast out there will harm a single whisker. I swear it."

The adolescent curled his lips up in disdain at the memory. And Ragtag had to leave to two alone, catching a scent of some exotic bird. "Revolting." He hissed.

Delta smelled the air too. "Hm, you're quite right about that, frog-breath. It does taste a little more rotten out here than usual." Hail glared at the tom who gave him a look that could kill. Would kill, if eyes had the capacity to do so.

"Eyes on the prey and not me."

"You're the only one I see as a target."

He growled. "That so?"

Tension crackled thick in the air as they squared with one another. Claws unsheathed and teeth baring down on opposite toms.

"What are you doing here?"

Both toms angled their ears to the new voice. It was female and unfamiliar. A ebony black she-cat stood several mouse-lengths away from the rogues. Her single white paw placed carefully on mud-colored vole. Green eyes trained on the tom's and not the squirming vermin beneath.

Her bony frame stuck out the most despite her cool gaze staring back at the trespassers. Now that he noticed- about this wild she-cat-her pelt stuck out at weird angles as if she hardly had time to groom it. Her limbs shook despite her firm grip on the tiny bit of prey.

"I ask again," she rasped, coughing once or twice to catch herself to speak. "What are you doing here, rogues?"

"Passing through." Delta flicked his tail in swift greeting to the wary she-cat.

"Liar." She immediately replied. Her fur-what's left of it-stuck out twice its size, making Delta take step backward.

"Now," she snarled, squashing the creature underpaw as she crouched lower to eye both tom-cats. "I'll ask one more time, wha-"

"...For StarClan's sake, Ryepaw. What are you doing?"

The she-cat stiffened. Her eyes shifting from side to side; oddly freightened for what ever cat called her. Hail narrowed his eyes at her and for a stoic shape appeared from around a thorn bush.

Burrs clung stubbornly to his ginger pelt but his eyes didn't deter him from this rather awkwardly place scene. "Ryepaw, you're very softhearted to have sympathy for a couple of good-for-nothing rogues."

"Hey!" Delta exclaimed.

The tom ignored him coming in front of an unsteady Ryepaw. She kept her eyes at her flattened vole and not meeting the tabby's eyes.

"What's the matter now?" He breathed, a soft smile playing over his muzzle. She shrunk lower to the ground avoiding those forest green eyes.

Why?

"Sorry to interrupt your chat but I do believe she was trying to get to some point about boundaries and us crossing?" Hail interjected.

Ryepaw flashed him a look of relief but it vanished as quickly as it came. She returned to that stony, guarded gaze and Hail relinquished his own frosted glare. The ginger tom-on the other paw-didn't seem too happy that he had to break continuity. He eyed them both with a blazing intensity melting Hail's own facade. Hail was young but he wasn't that stupid to take on strength rivaling his father's or even Fog's.

"Ah yes," the tom hissed. "Why are you here, rogue? I'm sure our scent markers would have kept you both at bay."

Delta groaned heavily, slapping his tail across the side of his face and shaking his head. "That was the foul smelling scent we came across early on." It dawned on Hail too, though weak it still packed some sort of kick to the stomach.

"Our scent markers," the tabby murmured. He paced back and forth over the invisible wall of scents. "They've weakened."

He didn't bother to confront the rogues again and instead turned to the skinny black she-cat. "I'll have to report this to Lightstar. Grab what prey you have and join me back to camp."

"But what about them?" She angled her ear toward Hail and his group-mate. "We can just leave them here wondering around this part of territory." At least some cat was acknowledging their presence.

"Don't worry. Those flea-pelts will be joining us too." He flashed both rogues an eerie grin.

Delta bristled at his words. "You have no right over us!"

The ginger warrior chuckled. "You did almost cross into our territory and if it weren't for Ryepaw here you'd be crowfood. Also, I'd like to know the reason why you two were lurking so close to the border."

Hail gaze shifted into utter surprise. We were so careful in masking our scent!

"That's none of your concern." The white tom meowed. "We have done nothing wrong and you're just making assum-"

"Rogue, do not test me. I have little patience for outsiders. This apprentice here was kind enough not to kill you on the spot." Ryepaw flinched, weaseling her way between the dispute.

"Foxclaw, it might be best to continue this elsewhere. There may very well be others out there, watching them and us. Camp is the safest option to interrogate them. We can't trust no one out here alone now." The she-cat croaked. It resembled the gradite sounds of claws scraping rock.

Foxclaw flicked his tail thoughtfully. "Very well." He conceded before padding over the border to shoulder Hail closer to his companion.

Hail snarled at the large tabby who glowered at him. "Do not resist, lest you want some scratches on that muzzle of yours." The tom shoved him again who was pushed against Ryepaw. Her mouth clamped over the flat vole. She paid him no mind.

This was turning out to be one eventful day.

They were soon joined by two more warrior cats. A tom and a she-cat. Their stares were curious ones and a bit wary. Why were they so on edge was beyond Hail. Sure, they were cats not native to the land but these wild cats should be used to bystanders like them by now?

The thick blankets of snow made the journey no easier. It started a while back right after departure over the territorial line. The flecks of snow stuck to his already long pelt making it harder to walk. He had short legs and each paw step was an awaiting trap to fall over. He cursed when he did earning a mouthful over frozen water or-in worsecases-fur being snagged on a hidden prickly bush.

Delta had no worries whatsoever. His long, confident strides left him from the clumsy mishaps that Hail was suffering from. For once, Hail would've minded a sneer or two just to ease his inner frustrations.

"Keep up, mangepelt." The new she-cat growled, easing her steps for the rogue to catch up.

Hail shook his forepaws each in turn, glaring sinfully at her. "You're the only diseases-written creature I see here." He spat, tail lashing.

She hissed at him lifting a paw to strike when the tom bouldered into her, knocking her away from the rest of the group. His claws were unsheathed as he scratched her nose and cheek, spitting in her face. She retaliated by kicking him in his belly. He lurched, groaning as sharp pain exploded from below. A force snatched his scruff sending him tumbling back and away from his aggressor.

"Thistlenose!" She gasped. The wired gray tom pinned Hail to the slushy ground of mud and snow. His paw stained of blood but not his own as his thorn-sharp claws dug deeper into the rogue's chest. Hail gritted his teeth from hissing. The adrenaline pumping through his veins began to dwindle.

"Bad move." Thistlenose growled, adding pressure to the new wound. Hail groaned, writhing under the tom's power.

"Enough." Foxclaw meowed, helping up the speckled white she-cat. "I think he's learned his lesson now. We can't afford to waste anymore energy on them. Camp is a few fox-lengths away. If you can make it." The burly tom lead his group away. Ryepaw and the white she-cat stepped closer to Delta who looked back with contempt.

Hail huffed, staggering to his feet when Thistlenose relinquished his hold. "Try that again and you'll find my claws in your neck."

The thick-furred tom grunted, limping at the back of the patrol. His right paw stuck close to his blooded chest. At the last moment of the brawl he pulled a claw when he was forced away from his enemy. It was a mouse-brained move but a defensive one at best.

"No promises." He rolled away his worries of a hostile greeting with a twitch of his ear. Fog warned them of making enemies with these Clanner-cats. They may be the solution needed to start a new life, and he may have caused a fatal blow to their season worth of plans.


Author's note: Right now we're just introducing a few of our furry friends from outside Clan territory and within. Next chappie should clear up a few things if not more.