"And so, there I was... cornered by three brutes. I was backed into a corner."
Bengt loafs, ever-comfortable in the middle of a ragged circle that had appeared the longer he told his story. A few of them, actually; turns out, WindClan is rather curious about the dubious past of the stray that they had decided to feed and heal. He supposes he can get behind that. He, too, is a sponge when it comes to some good gossip. This is far from it however—while he's not above the mending of the truth, this specific remnant of the past is genuine, whether some of the more senior warriors believe it or not. Loners and rogues like to stick together in an attempt to look more intimidating and bully the single cats out of their hard-earned food.
He regards each cat sitting around him with a look. Bengt is not the greatest storyteller, but his voice can certainly make even the simplest sentences entertaining. He loves theatrics.
"They expected me to try and run away, or to give in... but they didn't expect me to attack back."
Bengt assumes he ought to spare the gory details, lest the younger kits and apprentices get too scared and run to their mothers, earning him a scolding. "I gave them what they deserved. And guess what? They never bothered me again. If they saw me coming, they either turned tail or picked a different lane to pad on."