A paw pushed into his side, nudging him hard. He groaned, rolling onto his other side, draping long, green and light brown wings over himself to shield from his attacker. 

His attacker, a she-cat, sighed, "Come on! You need to get up!" She nudged him once more with her muzzle.

The winged tom closed his wings, opening one forest green eye, "Why?" He looked around, taking in that it was still dark. His nest was positioned in the crook between two branches, high in the canopy of the forest. Their home was in a large birch tree, the thickest part had been smoothed out to create a platform, while the branches curved around it. The leaves of the tree still shaded them from rain and wind.

"Look," The she-cat said, exasperated, "We need to go into town. I have to get to the market for supplies." She began grooming pure white fur, thick and sleek.

The tomcat sat up, the fur on the side of his head flattened. He blinked his blurry eyes, "Why so early? You don't usually go in before dawn." 

The she-cat looked up from gathering a pack, "Well, I need to talk to someone, and I also want to get supplies. If we don't go in early, all of the rare and quality things will be bought." She finished up the pack, putting in small leaf-wrapped packages.

The tomcat yawned, stretching his legs while unsheathing his claws. Getting the look from the she-cat, he began grooming his ruffled fur. First his dark brown back, then his light brown underbelly and muzzle. He searched his wing membranes for parasites. Finding none, he moved onto his tails. Three of them, they had the appearance of rat tails. Long, thin and covered in a thin layer of fur. At the end of each light brown tail, they were adorned with a spade. One had a green spade, one a blue, and one a red. 

When he had gotten the last few bits of bracken and moss from his pelt, he stretched again. The she-cat came over and dropped his pack on the ground in front of him, then put hers on. Taking his wings into consideration, he slowly pulled the pack on, till it lay between his wings.

"Alright, ready?" 

He nodded, "Yes, Mom."

She walked over to the edge of the platform, and turned around. Hooking in her short, but strong claws, she started to inch her way down, tail first. When she was halfway down, the tomcat started after her. Grabbing into the claw-holds his mother had used, he slowly went down. He was relieved when his paws hit solid ground. 

His mother flicked her long, fluffy tail, "Come on, Fallow. We should reach town by dawn." Fallow nodded. With his mother leading, they made their way out of the forest and out onto the moor.

Once they had gotten onto the the grassy plains, he spoke, "Why do TinyClass live in trees?"

She looked at him with bright amber eyes, "Well, we are smaller than the other classes. And we have short and strong claws, perfect for climbing. We have longer tails that are thick to keep our balance. It's just what the gods decided." Fallow nodded, thinking.

Is my father a TinyClass? Do other TinyClass have wings? He shook his thoughts away as they reached the town. Two doors made of logs bound together with steel nails created a tall, secure gate into the town. Fallow had been to this town many times, often for supplies and talks with other cats.

A she-cat, clad head to tail in armour, approached them from her guard post, "Nice to see you Saffron and Fallow. Welcome once more to Baynox." 

Saffron smiled, "Thank you, Andromeda. So nice to see you again." The gray tabby she-cat gate-guard smiled, dipping her head. Andromeda twitched her tail tip three times, signaling the gate to open. The ropes on either side, wrapped around gears, slowly opened the gate. 

The sun began to rise, bathing the gateway in golden light, almost making the town look heavenly. Saffron lead her son in the gates, dipping her head to the other guard.

The pathway into Baynox was well trod, flattened and packed down by thousands of paws. He looked around, seeing the two lines of trees on either side of the path way. Small hollows in the trunks had been dug out by cats generations before. An old ironwood tree marked the black smith. The wood was so hardy, it would stand the constant heat and smoke from the black smith fires.  A ring of black smoke had stained the entrance arch.

His mother walked over to a fairly large birch tree, it's bark peeling from it's old age. Fallow walked into the hollow. The light yellow wood glowed brightly in the weak sunlight. The air smelled of herbs and poultices. They were in the medicine ward.

"Why are we here? Are you sick, Mom?" Worry clouded his green gaze, checking her with his muzzle for basic signs of infection or fever.

She laughed, "No, no, I'm fine, Fallow. Just here to talk with an old friend." She pointed with her muzzle to a lump of gray fur, covered with gray-blue patches. She walked over, and nudged the lump with her paw. The cat raised it's head, blinking sky-blue eyes.

"Saffron?" He whispered, "What are you doing here?"

A.N. What do you guys think? Better than the other one, or do you like the older one better?