M
MARKIPLIERBITE
Guest
The shelter was a strange place, but one that Markiplier had grown accustomed to after a few weeks (and the free food didn’t hurt, either). He’d been a bit reluctant to leave, in the end, when someone had come by to take him home. His new owner is kind, though, and treats him like the king that he is—even calls him the King of Freddy or something like that. Whatever that means.
Still, while he’d been at the shelter he’d gradually grown concerned about the strange influx of new cats who’d shown up. They called themselves SkyClanners, of a feral colony called SkyClan in the pine forest, and they all claimed to have been kidnapped (or rather, catnapped). Now that he’s free, he can at least help them, and satiate his curiosity at the same time. Their SkyClan sounded pretty cool, all things considered.
When he reaches a scent line that suddenly cuts across the land before him, the tabby tom stops short with a grunt. This must be SkyClan, he knows it. Plus—it would just be embarrassing if he showed up at the border to WindClan or something; he’s heard stories of their tyranny and bad relationship with SkyClan. "SkyClan! I know how you can get your cats back," he shouts, nearly doubling over on himself as he stands at the border, panting hard.
The scent line is a bit confusing, he thinks idly. Should he… cross it? What’s the worst that could happen, really? Cats lay scent lines all over in the spaces between their houses, and nobody really cares about crossing those. Is it the same when it’s a colony of feral cats that’s laid the scent lines? Maybe he’ll ask about it, whenever someone actually shows up. But first he’s got to let them know where their missing clanmates are.
Still, while he’d been at the shelter he’d gradually grown concerned about the strange influx of new cats who’d shown up. They called themselves SkyClanners, of a feral colony called SkyClan in the pine forest, and they all claimed to have been kidnapped (or rather, catnapped). Now that he’s free, he can at least help them, and satiate his curiosity at the same time. Their SkyClan sounded pretty cool, all things considered.
When he reaches a scent line that suddenly cuts across the land before him, the tabby tom stops short with a grunt. This must be SkyClan, he knows it. Plus—it would just be embarrassing if he showed up at the border to WindClan or something; he’s heard stories of their tyranny and bad relationship with SkyClan. "SkyClan! I know how you can get your cats back," he shouts, nearly doubling over on himself as he stands at the border, panting hard.
The scent line is a bit confusing, he thinks idly. Should he… cross it? What’s the worst that could happen, really? Cats lay scent lines all over in the spaces between their houses, and nobody really cares about crossing those. Is it the same when it’s a colony of feral cats that’s laid the scent lines? Maybe he’ll ask about it, whenever someone actually shows up. But first he’s got to let them know where their missing clanmates are.
[ space was so cool… ]