Cobra whirled, the foolish toms cry carried over the sands and to the desert cats. " you mangy fool! What makes you think I will let you live for speaking to me without permission?" He said slowly, his anger spilling over at the thought of Oleander, at her own naievity, out in the desert, alone, probably dieing. It's them, the mange pelts! All of them, they put this stupid plan into her head!  He thought, some of the annoying pangs in his belly burning up in his anger, but she was still out there, and someone would pay. He turned on the cowering cat, walking slowly towards him, then, like his name entailed, just as the slightest bit of fear eased in the toms eyes, he struck.