The second time she saw him was soon after. She was in the lumberyard, hoping that the Twolegs around the place had dropped a morsel. But when she turned to leave, she caught sight of him again. As she went to investigate, hoping that he hadn't come to steal food, she saw him in a hunter's stance, stalking a cardinal. One pounce and alarm call cut short later, he stood to full height, the cardinal dangling from his mouth. Despite herself, she leaped onto the fence again to compliment him.
"Nice catch!"
"Thank- oh. Hello, BloodClanner."
"I have a name, you know."
"Well, I'm not psychic. What's your name?"
"I'm Slash, though I was called something else in my kithood."
"I've heard that BloodClan do those name changes. Why share with me though?"
"You know, the usual – everyone's suspicious, no one to share with. When people tend not to steal food or attack, I guess I trust them more."
"Fair point. I'm Brambleclaw, warrior of ThunderClan."
"Weird name, but I guess I'm not one to judge. I've seen a cat called Froofroo before so there are worse names out there."
"Wait, Froofroo? What kind of mouse-brained mother would give a kit that name?"
"Not the mother, the Twolegs. Elderly owners tend to do that with cats. He ran away but never managed to shake the name."
"Why not?"
"He was pretty prissy. Always grooming his long white fur, always turning his nose up at fresh-caught or too old stuff. Eventually he learned that a meal was a meal, but it was too late by then for him to shake the name."
"Oh, believe me, I've seen a couple of cats like that. Longtail used to be pretty particular about his appearance before he retired. He got a nick in the ear from a scuffle and from what I'm told he was wailing about it for a quarter-moon."
She laughed. "Froofroo always bemoaned anything 'ruining his appearance' as well. One day some of his alleymates pushed him into a pool of mud. You could hear the moaning from fifteen alleys away."
"Alley?"
"A narrow Twoleg corridor in Twolegplace."
"That doesn't sound too nice. Doesn't it feel cramped?"
"You get used to it. Besides, cats either sleep there or in other, less sheltered spots."
"I'm suddenly feeling very thankful for my cosy den."
"Yeah, enjoy it. There are many things worse than it, the sewers for one, or in your understanding a narrow tunnel filled with Twolegs' dirt."
"And cats sleep there?"
"Eh, only during snowstorms or on punishment. There are parts where it's dry."
"Why do you live in such a place?"
"Do you see anywhere that would take me?"
"Twolegs?"
"Brambleclaw, do you really think I'd make it as a kittypet, going off what you've learned in the two encounters we've had?"
"Well, no."
"There's your answer."
"I've got to get this to camp. Bye, Slash."
"Bye, Brambleclaw."
As the moon went by, Slash found herself stopping more frequently by the lumberyard or the suburbs to see him. They met a few times after, chatting about their lives and hopes. She could honestly count him as a friend, the first she'd had since the distant memory of kithood. The rest of her life was of course less happy but having a friendly face around helped her to cope with it.