To the south of the Clans' forest and west of the Twolegplace, the forest continues on, as thick and lush as it ever was. Prey is plentiful during newleaf, but in harder weather conditions, most of it is found by the River that cleaves a thick trail through its middle.
It is along the bank of this river that many loners and rogues live, where many voles, birds and other prey animals gather each season cycle. Only rarely does the River freeze completely over, as its more northern half tends to do each year. Fish hunters are not uncommon in these parts.
Along the border of the Lone Forest is a vast expanse of Twoleg dens and thunderpaths. Life here is hard and complicated, many cats losing their life to either the stray dogs or starvation. Fighting is common, and finding anything that is really organized or kind here is a rarity. Most rogues choose to make their homes here instead of in the peaceful forest inhabited by the loners.
Out near the edge of Twolegplace is an old, burnt Twoleg den, long abandoned by its old owners. It is surrounded by a wide, over-grown lawn, and fenced in by tall, sharp black sticks that freeze in leafbare and burn the skin in greenleaf. Inside, there are many mice and other rodents waiting to be eaten, and though it is very drafty many cats come here seeking shelter.
Just beyond and to the west side of the Decaying Twoleg nest is the long rolling expanse of dry grasses, rocky cliffs and rabbit burrows. Most swift-pawed loners and rogues come here to hunt, as the short scrubs aren't enough to provide safe dens. During leafbare, everything becomes smothered in snow and ice, leaving it empty of prey.
An ugly, fierce storm on paws. Her dark, long, thin fur is forever matted into stinking clumps, her round orange orbs of eyes always ablaze with lethal rage. If her squashed face ever turns to stare challengingly at you, you're in trouble. Born into a group of rogues amongst the most nefarious of nature, the ugly runt of the litter - named Granite in honor of her hard, black heart and unattractive lank coat - always only had one desire - to be the very best (or worst, whichever way you look at it) out of them all. Never was she favored among her siblings or treated with the same respect as a fellow killing machine. Killing was all she had. Soon, despite being the most ferocious murderer amongst the rogues, she knew she would never be anything if she stayed where she was.... so she left them, and traveled far until her strong paws were torn and dead, her body almost starved. Finally, she found somewhere she could almost belong. Of course, she knew the clans were nearby, and it was likely that other rogues or loners lived in the area. But it was somewhere she could survive alone. Nowadays, although away from the group of rogues that treated her with such disgust, Granite is harder than ever. An older cat now (but still as tiny), she has grown to hate the clans for how difficult they made her life to live. She only has the smallest patch of territory for herself, while the clans roam as they wish in theirs; with all the best hunting grounds and shelter. In fact, she hasn't just grown to hate the clans, but any other rogues or loners infecting her grounds too. But if any of these cats she despises so much crosses her lines, they'd better watch out. This battle-hardened rogue is the fiercest of them all, with strength and skill like no other, despite her paws being slower due to her age. Under her shaggy, filthy coat of dark grey fur lies a thin, malnourished body. Granite was trained to kill cats; not pathetic pieces of prey. It's rare that she can catch anything. She stalks like a kit with a broken leg and her senses are tuned only for the sound of paw steps approaching and the scent of enemy cats. And if she can't catch anything? Crowfood is sufficient - anything to keep her alive. Theme Song; The Vulture, Pendulum