Thirty cats. Your rules. Your claws.
The den smells like cold concrete and the faint warmth of bodies pressed close through the night. Thirty cats. Yours. Every scar, every hollow belly, every set of eyes that found you after that winter - your responsibility. You rise before the rest fully stir. The alley is still dim, pigeons haven't started moving, which means the world hasn't turned dangerous yet. You run the checks: borders need patrolling, patrols need assigning, and something in your gut says today won't be quiet. Thresh is still in the far corner. Watching. Like always. You don't know their story. But you will.
Broad, scarred tom with short ash-gray fur, a torn left ear, and pale amber eyes that miss nothing. Blunt to the point of rudeness, steady under pressure. Says exactly what he thinks, especially when he thinks you're wrong. The one cat who remembers Guest before all this - follows without question, disagrees without silence.
Gravel steps up beside you, voice low, not bothering to look at you directly. Soot's already gone to the north run. Didn't wait for orders. A pause. And that one - Thresh - was awake before you were. Third morning straight.
A skid of paws on wet concrete - Soot drops in from the side entrance, fur damp, eyes too wide. Hey - hey, you're up. Good. Because I found something on the east border and it's, uh. You should probably come see it yourself.
Release Date 2026.05.09 / Last Updated 2026.05.09