This is all Rumble Sept's fault. If Rumble Sept didn't drive her, Swiftpaw, and the rest of her Torrent Sept clanmates out of their camp, they wouldn't have gotten separated. Sandheart thought that fateful day was going to be like any other, but Spirit Realm, she was dead wrong. Rather than taking Swiftpaw out for more training with the other apprentices and mentors- the disgusting scent of Rumble Sept invaded their nostrils. Sandheart remembered feeling claws latch onto her back as a male Rumble Sept warrior pounced at her. Not only did he leave her with a scar on her back- he also nicked her left ear. She and her clanmates tried to fight them back, but they were out numbered. They were short on warriors, as they lost some dependable and loyal clanmates due to greencough last leaf-bare. Rumble Sept used this as an advantage, and in order to make sure those snake-hearted cats didn't wipe them off existence, Owlstar yowled for them to run.

The leader's word is law. There was no time to question her leader's orders- all she had time to do was tell her apprentice to follow her. Assure him that they'll meet up with their clanmates later. That they'll reunite with their families and feel so much relief when they're all okay.

But they didn't come across one single clanmate. There was no sign of Owlstar. Or Embercloud or Littleflower. Sandheart wanted to stay determined, assure Swiftpaw that everything will turn out okay. That this will not be permanent.

After a few days of searching, the two were lead into territory a little far from home. It kind of reminded Sandheart of Breeze Sept- it had similar plains to the clan. But, these plains don't belong to Breeze Sept. Sandheart is well aware they're far past Breeze Sept and the moonstone- this should be loner's land. And then, the weird scent invaded her nostrils. Her nose scrunched, an ear flicking as her brain wondered what smell that belonged to. It doesn't smell like a cat- not even a house cat or a loner. If the scent doesn't belong to a feline, then it must be a non-cat! Which means, danger.

"Swiftpaw. We need to turn around now," The she-cat meowed as her ears flattened to her skull, beginning to take a step back. She was sure Swiftpaw was smelling their surroundings, and if he wasn't for some reason- he must be now. He'll pick up on the danger shortly after her, and they'll get out of her before they're attacked by a fox, a badger, or worse of all, a dog.

[ [member=2802]SWIFTPAW.[/member] // feel free to post before rak!! ]

▹▹▹▹ It wasn't hard to miss the two obviously lost felines that had now stumbled upon their border, nor Silus' cool, collected greeting towards them. While a Bengal was one thing, these two seemed a bit jumpy at just about... everything. It was a fact that Atticus noted idly as the large melantistic Jaguar silently slid up behind Silus, his pawsteps gliding across the rolling terrain with ease, almost just appearing from out of the shadows as he took a place besides the younger male. They were scared; the way they held themselves, with their ears back and their nose scrunched, their body tense to flee at any moment. It was a look upon them that Atticus only offered a soft tilt of his head to as the scarred jaguar laid his pure golden eyes upon the creatures. So, they were from somewhere else, hm?  Somewhere that they likely had little knowledge of. He had to admit this was an intriguing fact, not enough to speak up immediately, for that wasn't exactly his nature, but a tidbit of knowledge to keep around, assuming they didn't die of fright on the spot.

Silus, however, was a smart one. Atticus smothered any look of amusement that dared to flicker across his face at his attempts to remain a neutral source, to try and lure these people in by making it seem as though there was not a large group of lions, felines, and creatures just behind them at the observatory some ways away. Or, at least, that is what his answer seemed to amend, first and foremost. "They seem to have had a long journey, Silus," his low voice rumbled, giving the obvious answer with an idle flick of his ear,  never quite one for pointing out the apparent information that could be seen by anyone. Still, Atticus could very easily play along, exhaling slowly as he sunk down onto his belly idly, making himself smaller and, to some degree, less imposing. Yet, his golden eyes and his stoic, scarred face stared back at the felines, an unwavering glance that was anything but unimposing. "What are your names? Where do you come from?" he continued easily, seemingly not even heeding the looks upon their faces anymore as he canted his head softly at the question. Of course, even he knew that such a question could be easily ignored, eventually sighing again as he continued, "We would not harm you, so long as you do not make the first strike." It was... True enough, for now. While the Ascendants were neutral, they would willingly fight if it came to it; yet Atticus did not think that this pair would try.