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Papaya
Most days, Yew hated the world. It was dull and uninteresting and full of gullible idiots, though, she enjoyed the gullible idiots. It was fun to tell them everything she knew, though, recently, she hadn't spoken to any cats. The black molly stayed out of the twolegplace as much as she couldn't her experience there had been less than pleasant. To be fair, her experience elsewhere was never pleasant, but at this point, she was used to it. Her new enemies couldn't climb, and the trees that surrounded her new residence were plenty enough protection. Surrounded by those whose intelligence would never match her, she was a queen. And, as always, she was perched on her throne.
She had found the log rotting between an unnaturally tall pine and a skinny aspen. Such a fickle thing. She had made her den beneath it, barely the length of a tree away from the ending of a clan's territory. She had learned about the felines of the clans, though the name was all she knew. Yew didn't care about them, or how close they were to her refuge. They didn't bother her, so she didn't bother them. Not like the cats who were trapped in both their minds and their homes of wood and a false, softened version of nature. She enjoyed watching one for weeks before approaching and given them a crisis of crisis. Yew enjoyed watching them battle with their thoughts about their cage of ignorance. Her old throne, the roof of an abandoned house, would allow her to watch most of them struggle with their choices. The truly fascinating ones would stay locked away, even with their eyes opened.
Perched on her rotten log, a meter or so above the undergrowth, Yew surveyed the ground below her. There was nothing new, everything the same as the day before and the day before that. Yew moved her yellow orbs up from the ground and towards the horizon. Today, she would see how far she could walk. No matter if she didn't return for a few weeks. She was on her own. A black shape through the shadows, invisible to anyone without a keen eye. She arrived in the place she was looking for as the sun was beginning to rise. Journeying at night was always her priority, a habit she had picked up many a year ago. The tree stretched far above her head, but she didn't look up. Too many others kept their heads up in the clouds. There was much more to do back below.
The scents of the new place where weak and she couldn't distinguish any of them. All outsiders like her, but none of them as important. The scent of a badger pushed vaguely at her conscienceless, but she paid it no mind. It wasn't important. She could figure it out when it became a real issue. A stronger scent of indeterminate source pulsed strongly, one she couldn't ignore. Walking to a den, she blinked once, lazily.
"Now who might you be?" Yellow eyes looked up at a black and silver tom, indifferent yet focused. She hadn't had time to evaluate this cat, so none of her normal false sweetness would be displayed.