Rip could feel it. It was on the wind, the scent of the air, the ground. Rip knew that the cats were leaving. He could taste it. The wind blew through his fur, his long claws on the rock. It was hot and humid, and he could see four clearings as to where the four clans were. Another wave of air blew against Rip, and he jumped down, his tail a mere shimmer as it disappeared into the shadows. There wasn't much Rip could do. All he could do was sit and wait.