"Owl?" The boy heard Driftpaw strut into the den, her tail held high above the ground. He sat up, wrapping his tail around his paws, and surveyed her in the new light of the morning.

"Stupid Hazestar said I had to look after you, all because of some stupid thing with a stupid kit."

Owl noted that she sounded quite childish, repeating the word "Stupid," beneath his breath with unemitted laughter dancing around his tongue. "Then get me food and water," he commanded, grinning a lopsided smile at her look of dislike.

The tom from before, who had introduced himself as Brokengaze, chucked thickly. His eyes twinkled and Owl met his gaze with his own eyes mirroring the laughter.

"First Hazestar wants to speak to you," Driftpaw spat.

Owl raised his eyebrows (Eyebrows? Did cats have those?) and shot her an inquisitive glance, pointed with millions of unspoken questions.

"You can ask her," she sulked, stepping backward out of the den. A long-furred she-cat entered the den with her brown tail behind her. Owl's first response was a sense of great power radiating from the cat, who stared straight at him with large eyes.

"Owl," she sang loftily, "We need answers about you if you are to stay."

"Ask away," he invited, squaring his shoulders as he stared her in the eyes.

This seemed to unnerve her.

"O-okay," she stammered, recovering to her power-stance quickly. "Where are you from?"

"Australia," he answered easily, his ears pricked. "Near Uluru, to be exact. It's very far away."

She glanced at him, evidently unbelieving of his words, but continued.

"Who were your parents?"

This question surprised him, but he answered, "Howl of Morning Wolf and Golden-eyes," without much hesitation.

"How old are you?"

"You wouldn't believe me." This answer was quicker then the rest, shielded with uneasy tension.

"Tell me."

"Thirteen."

Her eyes sparked with curiosity, and she queried quietly, "Thirteen moons?"

"Sure," was the reply, and Owl was again at ease in the situation.

"Do you come from a tribe?" Hazestar asked now, her ear to his right twitching impatiently.

"Sort of. You wouldn't know it," he snapped, surprised at himself for the brisk reply.

The leader shrugged (The cats here can shrug? Strange, but sure..) and turned away from the den. "I'll be watching," she warned, and slunk out of the den.

"I need food," he called after her, his eyes less then warm.

She stormed out of the den bad-naturedly - as Owl put it - and returned shortly afterward with a gray mouse hanging in her jaws.

Owl felt his stomach twist with disgust and he struggled not to retch at the fresh blood trickling down it's broken body. A swamp of sympathy overwhelmed him.

"Don't you have something else?"

Hazestar rolled her eyes but motioned to a shallow dip in the ground laden with dead creatures and staining the ground scarlet. Owl stiffened.

"I have to go," he stated, and felt himself standing. Without a glance back he bolted, leaving the clan staring after his flicking cream-and-white tail and murmuring suspicious words.

"Dead animals," he spat, slowing once he crossed the invisible line of the border. "Of course they eat dead animals." He closed his eyes for a split-second, the image of the creatures indented behind his eyelids, and breathed deeply to force his heart to slow from it's irregular beating.

"It had to be dead animals," he repeated again.

Owl felt his chest heaving uncomfortably, in and out, in and out.

He forced it to stop.

It was a dead rat, his head reasoned, just one! You've seen worse!

He sighed, his exhalation long and silent.

"You're fine," he commented aloud in a different tongue, strange and gibberish-sounding. "You can forget about one stupid rat."

A voice caught him from behind, fearful and dangerously quiet.

"Was that Silent-speak..? Racan?"

(Pronounced Ree-san)

Owl rolled his twin yellow eyes.

"Yes," he admitted, "It was."

WHOO, I finally uploaded it! After the what-seemed-like ages 12-hour wait.
Enjoy!