[attr="class","mouths1"]Annoyance and frustration broiled beneath Coatistar's icy exterior as she padded through her jungle home, her long stride purposeful as it lead her toward the swamp. At her flank was a young tom, his head bowed and expression painted like a scolded kit. No matter how accepting the small clan was of outsiders, hoping against everything to build their ranks into something worth regard, to cause unrest between allegiances was unacceptable. The truce between Canopyclan and Bayouclan had been shaky since Coatistar took leadership only a few short moons ago. This situation was merely throwing fuel onto a smoldering fire, and it made Coatistar's skin crawl.

Not nearly as much, however, as it angered her.

Claws flexing to dig into something, the molly let her wild roots rise within her, and, with a flick of her tail in a gesture for the tom to follow, she ascended one of Canopyclan's many trees. Though she was no true serval, the blood of the wild cats ran strong within her veins, and their love for swimming and climbing was no exception. There was no place more fitting for Coatistar than her clan, content to roam within the canopies that were their namesake.

With her warrior following dutifully behind her, loathe to anger his leader further than he already had, she leaped freely from tree to tree with little pause between. It felt freeing to soar like a bird between the branches of her home, to feel the breeze ruffling her fur and allow the scents of jungle foliage to engulf her. By the time she took rest in a tree near the border, she was soothed. Though not entirely at ease, she was calm enough to confidently handle this mess of a situation.

Gaze flitting down to the small grey molly that sat mere tail lengths from the two-leg path, Coatistar bunched her muscles, and gracefully descended the tree. Landing upon the jungle fur, she angled her ears to hear the soft thump that confirmed her warrior was still following before she brushed through the undergrowth to halt before the other leader. Briefly, her amber gaze drifted toward the warriors accompanying Heronstar, and wondered which of the two was her warrior's supposed love interest. The tom in question was avoiding looking at the Bayouclan cats, somehow looking simultaneously cowed and confident.

"Heronstar," the savannah greeted coolly, head dipping in respect, though her gaze carried little welcome. Meeting here had seemed a waste of time to her. Surely they could cope with punishing their own warriors, without needing to bother with a conversation. However, if Heronstar wanted to confront them as a united force, so be it. 'Let's just get this over with,' she thought, stiffly seating herself as her long tail flickered warily at her flank. "Let's keep this brief."