City

The tom stomped through what used to be part of his territory, his scarred, cinnamon tabby fur bristled, making him look three times his true size. His claws were unsheathed in frustration, revealing black, long, shining, thorn sharp claws. His teeth were bared, stained yellow from seasons of hunting. Finally, his pumpkin colored eyes were narrowed into nothing but small slits. He looked ready to attack and kill if it was needed, why was he like this?

His clan had accused him of killing the leaders little princess: Moonheart. The sleek, grey mottled, white speckled she-cat was the leaders little daughter. Killed. Unknown who, but, the leader was enraged. Making him accuse the tabby tom of killing his daughter. All because of his city cat roots.

"If they don't need me, then let them have their way. That'd be showing mercy to the idiots..." The tom muttered to himself. Of course, he hadn't been the one to kill Moonheart. It was probably Raindapple, or Spottedpad. Those two have been acting pretty shady.

Maybe now that he held the scars of a city cat, as well as the knowledge of a clan cat. He could whip the city cats into shape. At the least give them proper training to survive. The city cats may act like mindless, savage, beasts. But, at least they know when they go too far! Besides, the closest things they have to clans in the city are alley groups.

Alley groups take in abandoned kits. For only kits will they take in if they weren't born into the group. Cats above six moons are chased off or killed. Those kits are taught how to scavenge, hunt, and fight. So, you're lucky if you get taken in. Sometimes, cats will challenge the leader for their rank. Insiders or outsiders, they'd come to try and take leadership.

That's just what the tom planned to do.

As he weaved his way through the rival clan territory to the city, he froze. Could he maybe bring his littermate along with him? She could serve at his side at the deputy of the clan, or group. Or, he could just leave her here. Last time he checked, his poor sister had fallen in love with some sort of goody-four-paws tom in Grassclan! He doubted she'd come with him.

"Jaggedstripe?" The scarred tom turned, there stood the one cat he had been thinking about: Snowstripe. His sister sat down, her grey tabby fur sticking out from the seafoam grass behind her.