- Nov 26, 2022
- 500
- 119
- 43
Round eyes, flickering like a passionate fire, bright with excitement and hope for the next chapter of his life waiting to be opened. Lime green nylon dangles around a neck that is too small to fit snugly, a tiny golden bell chiming ring-a-ling-a-ling with every paw step he took. They're quick, scurrying as if he's running from doom itself. In a way, he was — Slate would never truly live his life, not while he was trapped in a twoleg nest barely keeping himself entertained with stuffed mice and chowing down on dry kibble. He wanted to be wild and free, like the tales of forest cats his parents had told him and his littermates about. They had always reminded them that life with a twoleg was a privilege, a guarantee that he would never have to suffer through starvation, heal his own wounds, or feel the bitterness of the cold. But... there had to be more to the world than a living room, right?
The little scrap, barely over the age of two moons, skidded to a halt on a rough dark surface. He surveyed his surroundings, taking in the crisp scent of wild grass, the sight of birds flitting overheard... "I did it! Hah! I'm a wild cat now! I'm a—"
VRRRRROOOOOOOOOMMM!
A shrill squeak is squeezed from Slate's small lungs and he scrambled backward for dear life, ducking his head and shielding his eyes from the monster coming to eat him. The rumbling got louder and louder, and the ball that Slate was curled up in screwed up even tighter before it miraculously began to cease. The monster rolled right on by him and continued down the dark path as if it didn't even know he was there.
"He-He lives! Y-Y-Y' owe me two scraps, Crag." A rather unrefined, twangy voice is accompanied by a scruffy older tom emerging from the shadows. He is followed by a slightly younger male; even for a street cat, he appeared fairly well-groomed.
The longhaired kitten caught his breath, shaking and terrified by whatever just happened. He's certain he's heard that sound before, but... never this close. It hurt his ears! "Wha... What was that?" Slate mewed, his ears folded back as he now came face to face with the two strangers.
The more kempt male casts a chilly, blue gaze down toward the fragile kitten with an expression that is unreadable. Yet, his tone is somewhat amiable as he explains, "That, my fuzzy friend, is a monster. The two-leggeds use 'em to get around faster. There's a lot of 'em out in the city." The city, Slate echoes in his mind, still astonished and baffled about what had just happened. Those monsters... they were humongous! They smelled really bad, too.
A sniff comes from the scraggly male, followed by a grunt, before he comments, "Y-Y' look way t-t-too young to be out here on your own, pretty boy!"
"Pretty boy?"
"Yeah, with your jingly c-c-collar and your p-perfectly fluffy fur. You d-don't look like a street cat. D-Don't smell like one, either."
The black-haired kitten blinks, taking a moment to glance down at his paws and examine them briefly. He did smell like shampoo on account of being given baths a few days earlier, and his fur was still pretty silky and soft, untouched by the elements as of yet. He glances back up at the two adults, mewing, "I was taken away from my family and taken to another twoleg nest. Dad said it was a part of 'growing up', but I didn't wanna live with them. So... I ran away. I'm looking for my brother. He was taken away too." Slate frowns, now reminded that his littermate had been taken by his own twolegs. Dusk had always been more optimistic about potentially being adopted. Was he doing okay? He could only hope so.
A dry chuckle expels from the blue-eyed tom's lips, "Part of growin' up, huh? I've heard that one before." Slate gulps, a frown forming upon youthful features. He seems wise, like he knows a lot of things; did he know something that Slate didn't? "Your dad's a big fat liar, kid. Truth is, they coulda' kept you and your littermates, all of 'em. You wanna know why they didn't? Tell him, Itchy."
"T-T-They don't keep cute k-k-kittens like you around fer' long!"
Realization begins to settle in on the young tom's mind, his jaws parting in utter disbelief. His parents... they wanted to send them away? How could they let the twolegs tear their family apart?
"Listen, it happens all the time. Don't take it personally. Your parents probably had tons of kittens before you."
Their elaboration makes things worse for Slate, who swallows over a forming lump in his throat. He wants to cry; none of this had to happen. Dusk didn't have to be taken away. Neither did he. "You mean... There were more?" The boy trembles. He's a mere number to his parents and the twolegs. Something to be given away.
"Probably! Twolegs love little fuzzy-cheeked, bright-eyed scraps like you. Kittens are always in demand."
"... Oh." Slate casts his amber gaze downward now, unsure of what to do. Even if he wanted to go home to his parents, would they even want him back? Would Dusk be happier off with his twolegs, living unaware of the cruel reality of his own existence? They were just twoleg accessories, pets, nothing more. That was what they had been born to be.
The old male hacks up a loogie before spitting it on the ground, possibly out of spite for the mere mention of twolegs. From the looks of it, he may have been living without twoleg care for a long time... maybe for his entire life, even. "Feh! L-L-Life in a twoleg nest ain't so roses 'n d-d-daisies. Out on the streets, you can b-be a real cat."
It seemed that the duo wasn't intent on abandoning the helpless kit, at least not yet."Follow us if you wanna survive out here, kit. You've gotta lot to learn." They began to pad toward the conglomeration of towering structures and strange smells.
With nowhere else to turn, Slate follows.
The little scrap, barely over the age of two moons, skidded to a halt on a rough dark surface. He surveyed his surroundings, taking in the crisp scent of wild grass, the sight of birds flitting overheard... "I did it! Hah! I'm a wild cat now! I'm a—"
VRRRRROOOOOOOOOMMM!
A shrill squeak is squeezed from Slate's small lungs and he scrambled backward for dear life, ducking his head and shielding his eyes from the monster coming to eat him. The rumbling got louder and louder, and the ball that Slate was curled up in screwed up even tighter before it miraculously began to cease. The monster rolled right on by him and continued down the dark path as if it didn't even know he was there.
"He-He lives! Y-Y-Y' owe me two scraps, Crag." A rather unrefined, twangy voice is accompanied by a scruffy older tom emerging from the shadows. He is followed by a slightly younger male; even for a street cat, he appeared fairly well-groomed.
The longhaired kitten caught his breath, shaking and terrified by whatever just happened. He's certain he's heard that sound before, but... never this close. It hurt his ears! "Wha... What was that?" Slate mewed, his ears folded back as he now came face to face with the two strangers.
The more kempt male casts a chilly, blue gaze down toward the fragile kitten with an expression that is unreadable. Yet, his tone is somewhat amiable as he explains, "That, my fuzzy friend, is a monster. The two-leggeds use 'em to get around faster. There's a lot of 'em out in the city." The city, Slate echoes in his mind, still astonished and baffled about what had just happened. Those monsters... they were humongous! They smelled really bad, too.
A sniff comes from the scraggly male, followed by a grunt, before he comments, "Y-Y' look way t-t-too young to be out here on your own, pretty boy!"
"Pretty boy?"
"Yeah, with your jingly c-c-collar and your p-perfectly fluffy fur. You d-don't look like a street cat. D-Don't smell like one, either."
The black-haired kitten blinks, taking a moment to glance down at his paws and examine them briefly. He did smell like shampoo on account of being given baths a few days earlier, and his fur was still pretty silky and soft, untouched by the elements as of yet. He glances back up at the two adults, mewing, "I was taken away from my family and taken to another twoleg nest. Dad said it was a part of 'growing up', but I didn't wanna live with them. So... I ran away. I'm looking for my brother. He was taken away too." Slate frowns, now reminded that his littermate had been taken by his own twolegs. Dusk had always been more optimistic about potentially being adopted. Was he doing okay? He could only hope so.
A dry chuckle expels from the blue-eyed tom's lips, "Part of growin' up, huh? I've heard that one before." Slate gulps, a frown forming upon youthful features. He seems wise, like he knows a lot of things; did he know something that Slate didn't? "Your dad's a big fat liar, kid. Truth is, they coulda' kept you and your littermates, all of 'em. You wanna know why they didn't? Tell him, Itchy."
"T-T-They don't keep cute k-k-kittens like you around fer' long!"
Realization begins to settle in on the young tom's mind, his jaws parting in utter disbelief. His parents... they wanted to send them away? How could they let the twolegs tear their family apart?
"Listen, it happens all the time. Don't take it personally. Your parents probably had tons of kittens before you."
Their elaboration makes things worse for Slate, who swallows over a forming lump in his throat. He wants to cry; none of this had to happen. Dusk didn't have to be taken away. Neither did he. "You mean... There were more?" The boy trembles. He's a mere number to his parents and the twolegs. Something to be given away.
"Probably! Twolegs love little fuzzy-cheeked, bright-eyed scraps like you. Kittens are always in demand."
"... Oh." Slate casts his amber gaze downward now, unsure of what to do. Even if he wanted to go home to his parents, would they even want him back? Would Dusk be happier off with his twolegs, living unaware of the cruel reality of his own existence? They were just twoleg accessories, pets, nothing more. That was what they had been born to be.
The old male hacks up a loogie before spitting it on the ground, possibly out of spite for the mere mention of twolegs. From the looks of it, he may have been living without twoleg care for a long time... maybe for his entire life, even. "Feh! L-L-Life in a twoleg nest ain't so roses 'n d-d-daisies. Out on the streets, you can b-be a real cat."
It seemed that the duo wasn't intent on abandoning the helpless kit, at least not yet."Follow us if you wanna survive out here, kit. You've gotta lot to learn." They began to pad toward the conglomeration of towering structures and strange smells.
With nowhere else to turn, Slate follows.
-
-
✰ SLATE
—— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
—— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
—— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose. -
—— decided to officially remain in skyclan as a warrior
—— participated in battle with windclan, currently recovering from belly scratches and a bite mark on hind leg
