Leland Starkfield one of the last cats that anyone would expect to run into. A cat who had become a ghost lost to time. One everyone had believed had fallen into a river and drown as a Cadet. But here the smoky tabby was pulling himself up and over a pile of dirt to perch on top. He had observed the Regime from afar for awhile. In truth is had been to see if his brother Isador was still alive, but also partly to see what the best course of action would lead to him weaseling his way back into the Regime. So when he spotted the unfamiliar fiery red tom who smelled strongly of the Regime leaving the frozen territory the Regime called home. He chose a cautious follow and then approach the tom when they were far enough away from the territory not knowing how this would pan out. “Well aren’t you a far away from home. Did the Regime finally ditch the frozen tundra?” He called out.