Post by ladyspectral on May 28, 2018 4:15:46 GMT
She meant nothing among the strays in the two leg's place, just another mangy stray cat to avoid stepping or another tail to yank on on to the two leg's themselves. To the other cats she was another ravenous belly to fight for the best garbage, to the dogs easy prey to torment. An easy meal waiting to be caught between massive teeth and shaken to bits.
The youthful she cat was alone since she left the communal nest where a good portion of her extended family remained. Even there she was barely notable, that had been proven when Ranger left without a single word. Surely he knew his two legs were moving away, that he wouldn't be seeing her again soon. The gray tom cat had just left her behind, the best thing of that place gone without a word, like she was just nothing to him.
Wasp made her way to the alley she usually lingered around, taking handouts from the nearby two legs. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to at least ward off the sharp pains of hunger that crept up her sides by the end of the day. At least they treated her like she wasn't nothing, even speaking words that sounded kind in their strange tongue. Once she had gone so far as to let them touch one of her ears, a brief brush before she darted away. Maybe this time she'd let them touch her head a little.
She rounded the corner, rearing up on her hind paws to claw at the swinging wall and meow to the two legs inside, alerting them to her arrival as she always did.
-----
The seasons came and went right on time, with no regard to the wishes nor whims of those they affected so severely. The sun blazed even hotter than it normally did, not a single cloud in the sky to shield those below from it's bitter wrath. The flat stone the two legs crafted scorched the paws of any cats that tread upon it, sending the strays desperately scurrying for the relief the shade provided.
Wasp had left the town, instead opting for the edges of the forest past the clusters of non-communal two leg dens. The prey was plentiful compared to the town, and by far healthier and less likely to make the cat that caught it ill. It even tasted better by miles in most cases. There were some clan cats that might not be too happy to find an outsider intruding on their territory, but to the young Wasp the risk was well worth the reward.
She had just leapt atop a plump robin and torn into it's throat when the brushes rustled. A muscular tom slammed into her back with a vicious snarl, teeth biting into her scruff and drawing a mewl of shock and pain from the ginger and white loner. Her legs collapsed under her, and she writhed frantically in vain to dislodge the Ivyclan cat, yowls of terror escaping her.
After what felt like a lifetime, the black tom leaped from her back, snarling as he swung out a paw and caught her side, white paws knocking her around like a ball of moss in the paws of a kit. Finally she caught sight of her attacker, rolling onto her paws and staring into furious amber eyes.
The bushes began to rustle, and she hurried back. The black tom strode forward, white tipped tail twitching as he picked up the ravenous she cat's kill. With a muffled hiss he sent the wounded Wasp scrambling away, just as a few other cats exited the treeline. They didn't chase her, instead meowing happily to their clanmate. She meant less than nothing to them, just a problem to be chased away. Not even a cat worthy of a meal.
Pain began to fester in her heart.
-----
Wasp had discarded her name, calling herself Honeyheart. Moons had passed since she had wandered into clan territory, and the near skeletal she cat stumbled along the sidewalk. Her side ached from the kick the twoleg had used to chase her away from his den, muttering something under his breath about diseases. She meant nothing. She had nothing. Just, nothing.
She was sure the clan cats were snuggled up in their camps, safe and warm with full bellies. She shivered against the wind, head low and paws scraping against the ground. She had caught the scent of something rotting, and on a whim she followed. Crowfood was better than starvation, after all.
Along the road a dog lay, bloated from the sun and buzzing with flies. But Honeyheart's eyes locked on it's open mouth. Sharp teeth like massive claws, most hardly staying in it's gaping jaw. She looked down to her paws, then back to the dead beast as an idea sparked in her mind.
The sparks began to form into a plan.
The youthful she cat was alone since she left the communal nest where a good portion of her extended family remained. Even there she was barely notable, that had been proven when Ranger left without a single word. Surely he knew his two legs were moving away, that he wouldn't be seeing her again soon. The gray tom cat had just left her behind, the best thing of that place gone without a word, like she was just nothing to him.
Wasp made her way to the alley she usually lingered around, taking handouts from the nearby two legs. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to at least ward off the sharp pains of hunger that crept up her sides by the end of the day. At least they treated her like she wasn't nothing, even speaking words that sounded kind in their strange tongue. Once she had gone so far as to let them touch one of her ears, a brief brush before she darted away. Maybe this time she'd let them touch her head a little.
She rounded the corner, rearing up on her hind paws to claw at the swinging wall and meow to the two legs inside, alerting them to her arrival as she always did.
-----
The seasons came and went right on time, with no regard to the wishes nor whims of those they affected so severely. The sun blazed even hotter than it normally did, not a single cloud in the sky to shield those below from it's bitter wrath. The flat stone the two legs crafted scorched the paws of any cats that tread upon it, sending the strays desperately scurrying for the relief the shade provided.
Wasp had left the town, instead opting for the edges of the forest past the clusters of non-communal two leg dens. The prey was plentiful compared to the town, and by far healthier and less likely to make the cat that caught it ill. It even tasted better by miles in most cases. There were some clan cats that might not be too happy to find an outsider intruding on their territory, but to the young Wasp the risk was well worth the reward.
She had just leapt atop a plump robin and torn into it's throat when the brushes rustled. A muscular tom slammed into her back with a vicious snarl, teeth biting into her scruff and drawing a mewl of shock and pain from the ginger and white loner. Her legs collapsed under her, and she writhed frantically in vain to dislodge the Ivyclan cat, yowls of terror escaping her.
After what felt like a lifetime, the black tom leaped from her back, snarling as he swung out a paw and caught her side, white paws knocking her around like a ball of moss in the paws of a kit. Finally she caught sight of her attacker, rolling onto her paws and staring into furious amber eyes.
The bushes began to rustle, and she hurried back. The black tom strode forward, white tipped tail twitching as he picked up the ravenous she cat's kill. With a muffled hiss he sent the wounded Wasp scrambling away, just as a few other cats exited the treeline. They didn't chase her, instead meowing happily to their clanmate. She meant less than nothing to them, just a problem to be chased away. Not even a cat worthy of a meal.
Pain began to fester in her heart.
-----
Wasp had discarded her name, calling herself Honeyheart. Moons had passed since she had wandered into clan territory, and the near skeletal she cat stumbled along the sidewalk. Her side ached from the kick the twoleg had used to chase her away from his den, muttering something under his breath about diseases. She meant nothing. She had nothing. Just, nothing.
She was sure the clan cats were snuggled up in their camps, safe and warm with full bellies. She shivered against the wind, head low and paws scraping against the ground. She had caught the scent of something rotting, and on a whim she followed. Crowfood was better than starvation, after all.
Along the road a dog lay, bloated from the sun and buzzing with flies. But Honeyheart's eyes locked on it's open mouth. Sharp teeth like massive claws, most hardly staying in it's gaping jaw. She looked down to her paws, then back to the dead beast as an idea sparked in her mind.
The sparks began to form into a plan.