Written in the Stars

As a kitten, and into her apprenticeship, Wolfthroat had been told the stories of the spirits of cats that would eat up anyone who happened to get too close. She didn’t believe it, of course, judging that it might’ve been a story rooted in truth at some point. A mountain cat or something, one with white fur, that didn’t like snotty apprentices treading on what it thought was it’s property. Maybe just a story a mother cat told her kittens so they didn’t tread too close. But this whole part of the territory just captivates Wolfthroat in a curious way. These old boats had just been allowed to set and fester. Surely there was some story written into their old wood?
A small amount of cats have joined her on her little rendezvous, but she doesn’t much mind. Poking around won’t hurt, especially not with more than one cat. “Be careful around the water,” she’ll turn to warn whoever’s closest, “I’ve heard there might be alligators in the water.” Wolfthroat wonders if a gator would even pursue a cat, unless it was hungry. (And then she wonders if they’re even here, or if they’re more in the bridge territory.) “Just run in a zig-zag if it spots you and you’ll be fine.” Nonflippant words fall from her lips as she jumps onto the boat closest, waiting for someone to follow her.