He did not agree with anything the she-cat was mouthing off on. All of them fought for someone. Maybe not a deity, but a bond in blood held every group together. The tom had lived in enough groups to se it. He opened his mouth to argue again, but did not say a word. Sunclanners were self-righteous by birth or by training. There was no point in arguing with her unless he wanted to waste more of his breath. Instead he opted to observe the scenery around him. He would need to get out of here at some point. He loathed the camp's location in the center of an island. He was no great swimmer in calm waters, let alone the rapids induced by the melting snow. The waters would prove to be an issue, but not a fatal one. No fortress was flawless to him. It was just a matter of time.

His eyes watched the white warrior approach, and again noticed the markings. They were different: less complex, but still elegant. The elegance of the markings failed to hide the reverence in the tom's step. He certainly did not know who he was, so that left only his captor. His face revealed nothing when Romancefable bowed and honored the High Priestess. She was more important than he thought, and certainly not who he expected Foxstar to entrust her child to. "So, is Foxstar dead, or is she pulling your strings? I never imagined that she could ever let go of her power."