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The twoleg's large hand moves behind Cloudpaw's ears and starts petting him there. A deep purr crawls out of his throat at the feeling of this massage and the love it symbolizes. He trusts in someone stronger and more powerful, trusts that they will be nice to him and food will be there if he wants to eat it. He doesn't need to give them anything in return for this safety; he feels free to be himself and be loved just for that.
He sits next to Brightpaw, Swiftpaw, Rowanpaw and Cederpaw, sharing the respective news of their clans with one another. The night is cold and wind ruffles his fur, and he feels free. He loves being surrounded by his friends and smelling far away prey and finding out things about societies just like the one he lives in, following the same organizational structures, yet embracing it differently. What if his mother had sent him to another Clan? What if Fireheart had stumbled upon someone else when he was little, leading to a different string of events and Cloudpaw being someone completely different? Maybe his name wouldn't even be starting with Cloud then. The tom spaces out and misses large chunks of the apprentice's conversation as well as the discussions between the leaders, thinking. If only sleeping in the safety of his twolegs' den, being fed by them, was compatible with all good sides of every possible aspect of clan live he has experienced, or may never experience.
Why can it not be that way?