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As Skelock set back at his podium, a tall, skinny cat came striding up to him. He smiled at the others as he wove his way up from the back, greeting familiar faces good-naturedly. He wasn't brightly colored; rather, his brown fur was more like jungle camouflage than the sort of pelt the ladies went for. But, for some odd reason, the likeable cat wore a lime on his head. As he reached a glowering Skelock, the cat dipped his head respectfully at the clan's leader. "Excuse me, sir. My name is Leo, and I'm one of the scouts- one of the long-range scouts. Pardon me for my opinion... but... Domoria's so far away... it's so long to travel, and the cats there... I've seen 'em, sir. Long, thick fur... they'd die down here. They're adapted to life in the tundra, like we've adapted to life in the desert. With all due respect... I don't think they're a threat to us. Why can't we just ignore them? Why do we have to be so belligerent about it- we've got enough on our plate without the need for war." Leo spoke, as all knew, about the difficulties of living in the desert. Prey wasn't as plentiful as it was in lusher lands, and when traveling, water was horribly scarce. There were probably some who wondered if this whole anti-Domorian sentiment was just a bid on Skelock's part for power. But most were too afraid of the hulking cat to speak out against him. They nodded as Leo spoke, but all cowered when Skelock turned on his paws in fury. Hissing, he didn't say a word, but struck the mottled cat across the face, sending his lime helmet spinning off into the dirt. Dazed from the blow, Leo fell to the ground, several deep gashes on his mouth and face. A few gave sympathetic glances to the downed cat as he sat there, a puzzled look on his face, as his nose bled along with the wounds on his muzzle. Looks like Leo wasn't expecting that. Skelock gazed at his prone form with cold eyes, then growled out at his cats. "I'm going to the Shadowmane border and demanding passage. I'm taking my soldiers with me. If you're of able body, you can either come with me... or end up like him."

"We'll head for the northenmost oasis first, and then we rest there before going on. There's not much water between there and the border," the leader growled, still angered that one of his cats would dare to oppose him. A contingent of large, rangy cats followed him. They were warriors, built for strength and speed, and he was proud of them. It was important to know that Skelock really wasn't a dictator; that is, he did nothing without the good of the clan- the entire clan- in mind. He didn't want to see them suffer, for as harsh as he could sound and as brutal as he could behave, the truth was, he was just worried. "There's always the possibility that E'endra and her bunch will cause trouble... but I don't think that will happen. And if it does, well, we're all bigger than those treewallopers. They're isolationists, anyways; odds are, other than a sentry or two, we won't see hide nor hair of them, and it's likely that if the Domorians got to them first, they saw even less. I'm sure the Shadowmane would stay far away from them; what good would it be for them to travel all that way for such a dangerous bunch? E'endra's smart, and she wouldn't let her group do anything stupid." The Sahar clan was on as good of terms as it was possible to be with the elusive Meosians of the Shadowmane clan, and he harbored a great respect for their leader, E'endra. He felt that she, like himself, was concerned for the safety of her people. Hm... a thought came into his head. What if the Shadowmane could be convinced to join them in their eradication of the ideas of this new clan? Surely they could see the danger of these villains, too. As his warriors marched behind him, he slowed, stopped, and turned around. Best to get this out of the way now, so he could brief his to-be-formed diplomatic team on his idea. "Oi, I say. I've had an idea, and I think it's workable. I believe that we should warn the Shadowmane as well about the impending danger of the Domorian clan; if we can convince them to side with us, or at least side away from those icy plotters, it would be good for us all. Do any of you have relations in that clan, or diplomatic experience?" If clan cats and not just him went up to present the idea, then it would perhaps go over better than it would if just he presented it.

"Sometimes," Skelock rumbled at the sound of a voice, "a good honest try is better than any advantage life can give you." With a nod to his deputy to continue the march, he fell back to talk to the one who had spoken. He recognized the warrior- he was a hunter, one of the ones who patrolled the territory. Dust... Dustapple? Dapple? There were many cats in the clan, but Skelock always did his best to learn their names. He smiled at the tom, a nearly paternal look on his nearly perpetually stern face. "Dustdapple, right?" If the tom's name wasn't Dustdapple, he'd make an apology later, but he was fairly sure he was accurate. "If you'll give it your all, then you can help the clan present our case to the Shadowmane. It's cats like you that we need, cats who aren't afraid to try new territory for their clan, cats who will give more than what they have for the good of their family. We have no quarrel with the Shadowmane; this we should keep that way, because it is to our advantage to have them as our allies. In this, we must be as the desert tortoise- unaggressive and unassuming, and hoping that our reason and wisdom are what win the day." The large cat nodded, affirming his statement, then growled low in his throat as he had another thought. "But we must not be tortoises in our dealings with the Domorians, if and when it comes to that, will not be diplomatic. We gave them the chance to stand down once. We aren't going to make the same mistakes our predecessors did. No, we must be like the rattlesnake- warn loudly, strike deadly. That's the way the Sahar clan goes to war." He nodded smugly, self-satisfied with his warriors. They trained harder and better than any other clan; this little uprising in Domoria would be put down in no time at all and then they could leave that wretched wasteland... hopefully forever, if those clanless mongrels knew what was good for them. "Can you be a rattlesnake as well as a tortoise?" he asked the warrior he marched alongside. "Can you be versatile for our clan?"