Near the WillowClan Camp. . .
The black tom placed every paw carefully on the snowy ground in front of him, careful as to not break any twigs under the snow. The patrol's scents might be disguised but any cat nearby would hear them if they made noise unintentionally. He raised his tail for his followers to stop as he heard a she-cat's voice; even louder now than it had been beneath the large cedar tree. She was addressing the Clan meowing about a warrior being missing. She must be their leader. We will need to find out who this she-cat is first and foremost he thought carefully. Crouching down as low as he could, he could see through a gap in the rough grass that there was also a scraggly black kittypet sitting near the entrance to their camp, looking tense. His pelt stood on end with anger. Taking in kittypets. Where have I seen THIS before? Turning to address his patrol, who were crouched behind him, he hissed quietly, "Explore their territory. If they're a real Clan they will have scent markers. I want to know where their borders are and where they hunt. Do NOT steal their prey! Do not give them any reason to believe we are trying to take their prey or their land. The black tom's eyes glinted with excitement and he sneered at his patrol mates. "We are helpless kittypets with no home remember? And don't be afraid to scrape yourself up a little while you're at it" As the white she-cat and brown tom turned and slunk in different directions, he made his way around the east wall of the camp, keeping enough distance so it would be hard to hear him. He needed as much information as possible before he could speak a word to these imposter Clan cats. . .