The mottled brown she-cat didn't find the need to sniff out her kits scent. Even though the mother could pick them out from rivers away, their pawprints and fleeing fur on the branches and ground were enough to have her jogging.
She recognised a smell of a tom that her mate often spent time with no matter how many times she discouraged interactions with a kittypet. She hissed at the idea that her mate had brought her innocent kits to the kittypet for him to kill them. She never trusted that gray tom.
Then there was another scent. She scanned the area. She could see the outline of the twolegplace on the horizon, but there was another cat that was there with them. She sniffed harder. It was definitely a she-cat. She shared a similar scent to her mate's friend. Perhaps his sister, she assumed. There was another scent on her. It was bitter. It reminded her of the plants her mother had used to punish her.
Lucy turned to the twolegplace and growled. "You killed my sons, and you thought you could get away with it!"
She sped off towards the walls, claws unsheathed.
