E C H O
On the outskirts of this amalgamation of cats, a rough-looking grey tabby stood, green eyes scanning over them with an unknown purpose. It was tough to tell who could be the group's leader, which was unfortunate since Echo had no idea where to start otherwise. Her claws slid in and out of the soft grass beneath her and finally, she let out a grunt, marching her way up to the most scarred of the cats grouped up. As she approached, her eyes slid over the cat - a brown tabby bobtail who certainly looked like she'd be in a few fights in her time. Flicking one ear slightly as she approached, Echo pushed herself to a fuller height, offering an off-kilter smile to the other molly.
"'Scuse me. Are you the leader here? I've got some business here, but, well, its'a long story." In an effort to seem relaxed and less like she was here for trouble, Echo settled back onto her haunches in front of the brown tabby, lazily running her tongue over one of her paws, though one eye was still fixed on the cat in front of her.
Further inward, they approached the triage where the worst injured were housed. It was just a derelict concrete pipe, cracked in half and partially sunken into the earth. They had draped a ragged piece of cloth over the entrance for privacy.
"They call me many things," Bearheart said wryly. "Bearheart is the most popular."
Inside the makeshift dwelling, the scent of infection and blood was overpowering. As a mother, Bearheart was no stranger to gross bodily odors, but it was still difficult to witness suffering like this. And with no way to alleviate it beyond what little she knew. A few patients stirred, a tall gray she-cat with a half-bandaged face. Two apprentices coiled around one another, darned with a collection shallow wounds.
"ThunderClan has been driven from our ancestral grounds by our own Leader no less. I...suspect not all is what it seems." She shook her head wearily. "Still, anything you can do is much appreciated."