[justify]The red-furred tom gagged on the strong scent markers as he headed through the trees. The acrid, overwhelming clan smell made his head spin. Well, it was either that or the hunger. His stomach grumbled loudly. What sin would it be to hang around with a clan for a few months, barely pulling his own load, until he was fed enough to run? He'd heard of clans, taking in cats and even other animals as though it were nothing, feeding them till they were fat and happy.
His hunger and determination blinded him to the fact that he could not smell a single tom from the scents of the recent patrol. Even if he had noticed that, he would've told himself that that patrol just didn't happen to have any males.
The foolish boy had no clue what he was getting himself into.[/justify]