“I’m sure we’ll find them soon,” Lemonspeckle replied. The huge, cream-colored tabby led his half of the patrol, his senses on alert. Markedpelt and Graythorn were both convinced their new leader was somewhere in this terrible place. His nose scrunched at the smell of two-leg filth and crow-food, though he pressed on. Like many of his clan mates, he wasn’t sure how comfortable he felt with a complete stranger leading his beloved clan, but then again, it wasn’t his place. He trusted StarClan to do what was right for him and the clan, and they had never steered him wrong before. Even after his brutal past that was filled with a dark secret. The warrior padded on, his paws aching from the black, cold pavement beneath him. He longed to be back in SummerClan territory where the ground was soft beneath his paws.

Lemonspeckle glanced down an alley, noting the brick wall at the end of it. “No use going that way,” he said to his patrol, his ears flicking back as he scented the giant container he knew held so much two-leg trash. They were filthy creatures. He snorted, “Okay, let’s move on,” with a flick of his tail, he began to move. “The rest of the patrol should be meeting us right around here at any time —“ he stopped, his honey-colored gaze flicking back to the dumpster.

He had seen... Something. He paused.

“Hello?” He called, eyes straining against the shadows. Maybe if it was another loner, they could guide them to the one they were destined to find.

Lemonspeckle nodded to Dustfeather, though his own fur was lying flat. He wasn’t worried about one loner. “I’m sure he won’t be a threat to a whole patrol,” he mused, “but I’m not looking for a fight as it is. We’re too far from home and from Graythorn to get any injuries,” his ears flicked thoughtfully as he waited for the cat to appear. Dustfeather was right — it was definitely a cat, which was a relief in itself. It could very well have been a mangy fox or a raccoon, and Lemonspeckle wasn’t in the mood for any of that.

When two of the toms stopped and looked in his direction, Rateye quickly ducked back behind the corner with a sharp inhale, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn't able to get a good look at all of those cats gathered there, but those two were freaking gigantic! Like, what kind of freaks were they?! He didn't stand a chance against a pair like that, let alone the rest of that group if they were as fit and well-fed. That's when it suddenly hit him; they were well-fed. Scraps had been a precious commodity here for moons, he was basically a bag of bones as it was. So where did they come from?

"Okay! Okay! Don't hurt me!" He yowled out, voice hoarse and a little raspy. Tail tucked under his legs and ears flat against his head, Rateye slowly padded out of the shadows, revealing himself to the group. Definitely not the picture of beauty, the brown tabby tom was slender and scraggly, his ragged pelt looking like it hung off of his bones rather than being held up by any muscle or fat. His right eye was gone completely, the socket covered by horrific scars that clearly didn't heal right, and a small snaggletooth poking up from his bottom jaw. "You fellas aren't from around here, yeah? What brings such a bougie group like you's to this dump? If ya's lookin' for food, there ain't nothin' left here, I've looked."

Lemonspeckle greeted his clan mate with a dip of his head, but before he could answer him, Markedpelt had spotted the loner. He glanced sideways at Dustfeather, wondering if the tom had ever heard a cat speak in the same manner the loner had. Lemonspeckle had never met a cat from the two-leg place, however, so maybe they all talked like that here.

“Do you think a cat would go around saying that to other loners who don’t know StarClan?” He half spoke to Markedpelt, and partially to himself. It was worth a shot though to ask around, but Lemonspeckle knew if he were in the shoes of the mysterious cat, he wouldn’t say a word about it to anyone and would think he was absolutely insane.

”No, we’re from the forest and moors, far from this place,” he confirmed to the loner, hoping the tom would know something, anything, about the cat they were seeking.

Rateye cowered slightly at the sudden appearance of two more cats, both as fit and well-fed as the first. Were they really from the forest? From the few stories the rouge had heard around the block, while the forest was brimming with good eats, it was also home to several large groups of the particularly violent sort, almost murderously protective of what they claimed as 'their land'. There were other sorts of weird rumors about the...clans, he thought they were called? as well, such as cats that could rise from the dead and freaky cults that worshipped the sun itself. He had simply brushed that kind of stuff off as baloney nonsense, but still knew better than to try his luck outside the upwalkers' stone boundaries.

All fiction had a little bit of truth in it, after all.

It was only then that his brain registered the question the more friendly newcomer had asked: You wouldn’t happen to know of a cat who might’ve communed with some starry cats recently, eh?

His yellow-green eye narrowed at the group suspiciously, suddenly curious about what they knew about his weird dreams. But, he wasn't about to show his hand that easily. "I may know a guy who was complainin' about somethin' like that," Rateye replied to Markedpelt. "But that depends on who's asking. How do I know you fellas are worth my time?"

Foxvalour listened to the brown tom speak, becoming intrigued. Slowly she stepped towards Rateye. "You know something, don't you?" Her voice was gentle even if she wanted to pin him down and make him tell her everything this moment. She needed to know who would be caring for her clan, they could only be leaderless for so long. Foxvalour was trying her hardest to quell any negative thoughts about a loner or rogue leading the clan. She was after all the product of two outsiders who joined. It was just the feeling of protectiveness warred with the desire for a leader. She shot a look over at Dustfeather, he had loads of leaders in his ancestry, perhaps he carried the same struggle she did. It was just she knew she shouldn't judge but she couldn't help herself. "Please, we need it." Foxvalout looked him in the eyes.

Ancestors? Medicine Cat?
Rateye paused, for a split moment glancing back towards the alleyway he had come from. He could run. He might not be a solid fighter, but he prided himself on his ability to outrun the best of 'em. He could just run now, and never have to deal with these weirdos or the voices ever again. That's what he wanted...right?
But that also meant that he'd go back to the same life he always had; left hungry, scavenging, and getting pushed around by the younger, stronger felines that believed in the delusions that this hellscape could be controlled. It was a miracle in itself that he had lasted this long through the cold season. He felt his stomach twist in knots at the memories of freezing, starving, believing that he wouldn't survive the night.

His gaze wandered between the cats in front of him. They looked polite enough, and although that one dusty-brown tom clearly didn't trust a crow-food eater like him, the other three seemed to be watching him with...hope? Were his dreams really that important?

"Y-You didn't answer my question," he replied after a moment's hesitation, visibly unsure and less confident than before. "Who are you?"