Ratstar wasn't particularly the sentimental type; despite living most of his life in the twolegplace, the former rogue felt no love or longing for his former home. In his personal opinion, the forest had better water, better food, better places to sleep, and all around better cats. No wonder a bunch of dead cats in the sky were so vehement for somebody to lead and protect them. In all honestly, the scraggly tabby was somewhat bitter that nobody had told him about this place earlier; he had to hear about it from ghosts, of all things!

Glancing out over the camp, his single eye spotted Roachpelt sitting across the way. At least he was smart enough not to make the same mistake. As soon as he realized what a jackpot this clan stuff was, he immediately told every rogue, kittypet, and loner he happened to remember the name of about the place. It just so happened that ol' Roach was one of the few that believed him.

Stretching, the slender tom made his way over to the newly-made elder. "Oi Roachie, how ya doin' pal? Nice day an' all, eh?"

Ratstar snorted in lighthearted amusement at the nickname. "Ah, some old, same old: makin' sure that nearly two dozen cats don' suddenly drop dead on me. Easy stuff, really." Sarcasm laced his voice as he looked around at all of the felines making themselves busy around the pair; hard-working warriors either grabbing a meal or heading into the forest with young but eager apprentices, as well as a pregnant she-cat helping another new mother corral her kits back into the nursery. His playful smile softened into a far more fond one. "It's amazin', ain't it." It wasn't a question, but rather a statement, spoken with timid reverence. "I don' get why so many o' us used to write off these groups as savages. So far from the truth it's criminal."

"Ugh, leader. Even now I still can't believe it," Ratstar sighed dramatically, flopping down onto the grass on his side as one would melodramatically fall on a fainting couch. "I wake up every single mornin' in a den all to ma'self, in the comfiest nest I've ever slept in, feelin' the safest I ever been since sucklin' at my ma's belly. An' I open my eyes, look around the den, and think to ma'self; 'have I finally lost it?' then I remember who I am, and where I am, and it all hits me at once: I willingly took control of an entire clan on the whim of ghosts, clearly I've never been sane in my life!" The tom burst into cackling laughter, a somewhat wheezy sound that carried through the chilled air.

Ratstar paused, rendered temporarily speechless at the older feline's praise. "I...t-thanks, old man," he finally managed to croak out as he stood up again. "Means a lot...to hear that." Still not exactly used to being emotionally vulnerable, or even talking about his emotions at all, he instead shuffled his paws awkwardly in the grass, unsure of how exactly to continue the conversation. "I, um...would you like to go take a walk?" The leader finally offered, gesturing towards the camp's exit with his rat-like tail. "Is a good day, after all."

"Ain't as big as you'd think," Ratstar remarked, standing up and gesturing with his tail as he began to pad towards the gorse tunnel that led out of camp. "Come on, let me give ya the grand tour, then." Pushing through the brambles and into the thick of the woodlands, the young leader padded casually through the trees, keeping a slow but steady pace for the elder to follow. "This area isn't hard to navigate, it's basically an island," he told Roachpelt, already beginning to hear the telltale sound of rushing water. "The locals call this forest 'The Deep Lands'. Good to know at least some of these folks were strategic; invading our camp's gotta be the biggest pain in the rear for everyone else."

"Where? The mountains outside Twolegplace, o' Summerclan specifically?" Ratstar queried as the two made their way towards the river that separated the Deep Lands from the meadows. "Myself, I was never sure these clans were actually f'real," he continued, blinking up at the blanket of fluffy white clouds rolling above them. "You've heard those ol' stories as much as I have; some called 'em monsters who eat kits an' build dens out'a bones, others said they're tribes who eat hawks an' speak with the dead...fantastical stuff, really. Never believed a whisker of it, thought I'd just die fightin' over some scraps like everybody else."

Ratstar went quiet for a moment in thought, the silent implication hanging in the air between the two toms. Neither of them had expected to make it through last winter; they'd basically said their goodbyes to each other the last time they'd spoken before Starclan chose him as leader. Even still, Roachpelt...Roach, had been such a constant in his life. "I can't imagine being 'ere without ya," he finally replied, voice soft with a surprising amount of emotion behind it. "I'll do everythin' I can t' make Summerclan the home ya deserve. For all you've done fo' me."

Ratstar didn't reply at first, but the broad grin that crossed his muzzle said it all. A spark of playfulness flicked in his single eye as he bumped the elder with his shoulder. "You're growin' soft on me in ya old age," he teased, "Come on, old man. Let's keep moving." With that, the leader bounded ahead towards the river that separated the cool, dark forest from the sun-covered meadows that made up the majority of Summerclan's territory. "Cross the stream right there is the wildflower meadow, while if ya trek upstream ya find the Northern Sea and the Rabbit Meadow. Take ya pick."

"Sounds good t' me," Ratstar agreed, turning to follow the river upstream. As they walked, the leader alternated between watching the minnows dash around beneath the water's glimmering surface, and glancing over his shoulder to make sure Roachpelt was keeping up alright. In a few minutes, they had reached the northern curve of the river, where the water broke off from the main stream and turned into the mountains, circling the Deep Lands. "There ain't really any stepping stones 'ere," he admitted, looking out at the other bank of the river only a fox-length or so away. "Luckily, the water should be kinda shallow. I can help ya across if ya need it, Roachie."