Chill Alley Cat
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ
With the cold humidity of fall in the air, the night made it easy to hide mistakes as fog consumed the she-cat. The wind sang, covering the plump kit's cries that dangled from her tooth. The withered coat that bundled the bones of the she-cat was dirty, it losing its gleam and blending her with the sky-lit undergrowth as the kit's newly adorned fur stuck out like a sore paw.
Creeping cautiously through the oak trees, tightening her grip on the kitten's throat to better quiet its calls, she searched. A heavy set of eyes set themselves at the crater, smells of life and prosperity coming off the camp in waves that made the rouge grimace in jealousy, much to the young cat's dismay at the feel of grinding teeth. Hushing the child one last time before entering the mouth of the clan's home.
Setting the manx down on the hard autumn ground with a humph, away from comforting piles of debris that could make a sound. The white she-cat looked at the kit for a moment, the spotted cat's eyes turning back to her as if waiting for something to be said. The white ghost of a feline made no effort to, however, leaving the thing without a sound as she turned with a swish of her tail.
The sounds of the woods were much different than the twoleg homes, the business of advancement of constant change replaced by a deathly stillness made the kit. The occasional rustling of an unknown creature in the roots of trees, the knockings on bark from mysterious sources, and the chirping of the night dying to give air to the nothingness in the stark shadows.
The kit settles among leaves, not wanting to make a sound in fear that something else besides the white she-cat may find her. Forced to face downwards into the darkness of the mouth of an unknown location, completely blind to what may be on the other side, she forced her lungs to work as she called out to the down below.
"Hello." The tailless cat pushes, her voice camouflaged by the distortion of wind, sounding as a lost spirit would. She calls out again, wishing for nothing to answer.
"..Did you hear that?" asked the grayish-brown she-cat, Thornpelt's voice stern. Her ginger companion turned to the entrance, hearing what could be confused with the dying breath of a cat carried by air. Rabbitflight flicks his tail, anxiety pricking at his fur as he gulps down a response.
"I did."
Creeping cautiously through the oak trees, tightening her grip on the kitten's throat to better quiet its calls, she searched. A heavy set of eyes set themselves at the crater, smells of life and prosperity coming off the camp in waves that made the rouge grimace in jealousy, much to the young cat's dismay at the feel of grinding teeth. Hushing the child one last time before entering the mouth of the clan's home.
Setting the manx down on the hard autumn ground with a humph, away from comforting piles of debris that could make a sound. The white she-cat looked at the kit for a moment, the spotted cat's eyes turning back to her as if waiting for something to be said. The white ghost of a feline made no effort to, however, leaving the thing without a sound as she turned with a swish of her tail.
The sounds of the woods were much different than the twoleg homes, the business of advancement of constant change replaced by a deathly stillness made the kit. The occasional rustling of an unknown creature in the roots of trees, the knockings on bark from mysterious sources, and the chirping of the night dying to give air to the nothingness in the stark shadows.
The kit settles among leaves, not wanting to make a sound in fear that something else besides the white she-cat may find her. Forced to face downwards into the darkness of the mouth of an unknown location, completely blind to what may be on the other side, she forced her lungs to work as she called out to the down below.
"Hello." The tailless cat pushes, her voice camouflaged by the distortion of wind, sounding as a lost spirit would. She calls out again, wishing for nothing to answer.
"..Did you hear that?" asked the grayish-brown she-cat, Thornpelt's voice stern. Her ginger companion turned to the entrance, hearing what could be confused with the dying breath of a cat carried by air. Rabbitflight flicks his tail, anxiety pricking at his fur as he gulps down a response.
"I did."
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