- Jul 23, 2022
- 196
- 13
- 18
After his mother had died, they'd fled to the forest. They'd left the city; hunted, fished and grown stronger. And everything had been fine.
Until it wasn't. Until that fox had tried to take their meal. He and his father had caught that rabbit together! It was theirs! And no way some stinking, ugly old fox was going to take it. They'd fought cat after cat after cat in the city, just to keep themselves alive. Why should a fox be any different?
Oh how wrong they'd been. They'd lost that fight. Forced to flee, to leave their catch like cowardly fools. They'd lost the rabbit, and in turn, Tybalt lost his father. He tried not to grieve too heavy. To tell himself that Iago would have wanted to die fighting for what was rightfully theirs, and that this was just sometimes the way that life was. And so Tybalt went on by himself, doing whatever he had to to stay alive. But, he realized, it was a lot harder to do it alone. And a lot lonelier when it was just him doing it.
These were the thoughts that the young tom tried to shove from his mind as he padded through the undergrowth with a squirrel dangling from his jaws. The scent of his prey obscured the smells surrounding him. Or at least, most of them.
His brow furrowed as a new smell met his nostrils, and he set down his squirrel to investigate. He immediately knew what these were. Scent markers! Obscuring the ones he'd made only the day before! And far stronger too, which meant more cats. How dare they just walk right in like he wasn't even here? A low growl escaped the wavy-furred tom's throat, and he followed after the unfamiliar scent until a small group of felines came into view.
"Hey!" he snapped, once again having to drop his squirrel to yell at them. "Who are you?"
(sorry in advance, he's gonna be a bit of an asshole to basically everybody until he settles in.)
Until it wasn't. Until that fox had tried to take their meal. He and his father had caught that rabbit together! It was theirs! And no way some stinking, ugly old fox was going to take it. They'd fought cat after cat after cat in the city, just to keep themselves alive. Why should a fox be any different?
Oh how wrong they'd been. They'd lost that fight. Forced to flee, to leave their catch like cowardly fools. They'd lost the rabbit, and in turn, Tybalt lost his father. He tried not to grieve too heavy. To tell himself that Iago would have wanted to die fighting for what was rightfully theirs, and that this was just sometimes the way that life was. And so Tybalt went on by himself, doing whatever he had to to stay alive. But, he realized, it was a lot harder to do it alone. And a lot lonelier when it was just him doing it.
These were the thoughts that the young tom tried to shove from his mind as he padded through the undergrowth with a squirrel dangling from his jaws. The scent of his prey obscured the smells surrounding him. Or at least, most of them.
His brow furrowed as a new smell met his nostrils, and he set down his squirrel to investigate. He immediately knew what these were. Scent markers! Obscuring the ones he'd made only the day before! And far stronger too, which meant more cats. How dare they just walk right in like he wasn't even here? A low growl escaped the wavy-furred tom's throat, and he followed after the unfamiliar scent until a small group of felines came into view.
"Hey!" he snapped, once again having to drop his squirrel to yell at them. "Who are you?"
(sorry in advance, he's gonna be a bit of an asshole to basically everybody until he settles in.)