- Nov 20, 2022
- 5
- 1
- 1
She perched atop the wooden fence, claws digging into the soft wood, penetrating the white coat of paint, as she balanced there. A cold breeze that whispered about winter in her ears ruffled her long, striped fur as she stared into the tree line that loomed just tail-lengths away from where she sat now. Her claws shredded the wood beneath them.
'Never felt more free than I did then. Runnin' through the trees with the wind in my fur and the sun on my back. You'll never taste anything as marvelous as a freshly killed mouse or bird, Lav. Oh… how delightful it is. How flavorful. Much as I appreciate our housefolk fer takin' care of these ole raggedy bones, them pellets they give us are almost cruel. How I wish I could hunt one more time 'fore I die. I'd catch somethin' fer you, little flower. I'd love to see the look on your face when you taste mouse for the first time.'
Bruce's words just days before he passed echoed through the young kit's mind. Being the youngest cat to live in this house meant she wasn't well liked by those who were older. Except Bruce. She wasn't sure why he liked her so much, she never got to ask (though she wondered if it had anything to do with him mentioning a litter of kits he'd once had), but he made sure she had enough to eat by fending the other cats off and told her the best stories. He had passed away yesterday and Lavender kept thinking about the wistful look in his eyes whenever he talked about hunting in the forest. He never got to hunt one last time, never got to bring her a mouse so he could experience the joy of her first taste of prey. Perhaps, wherever he had gone, he was hunting now, running wild and free. She told herself that, at least, to keep a chokehold on her tears.
She stayed on her perch even after her elderly housefolk tried to call her in for the evening. The sun was beginning to hide behind the treetops and Lavender just wanted to look a moment longer. The sunset was so brilliant that it looked as if the forest was on fire. The towering pines, still evergreen even in the cold when all others had lost their leaves, were ablaze with orange light. Lavender closed her eyes and imagined what hunting would be like in there, running on the ground so soft with pine needles, cold piercing her lungs, heart pumping adrenaline through her veins. Before she could register it, she hopped from the fence onto the other side of her garden, her paws touching tall, wild grass. She would just enter the edge of the forest, track down a mouse or something, and be off when she had caught it. It couldn't be that difficult if Bruce, the big, lumbering old oaf that he was, could do it for moons and moons.
Lavender crossed the narrow strip of grass into the forest, passing a barrier that smelled like many cats. To her untrained nose, she didn't know it was a border, but rather assumed many cats from the city made the trek into the woods to hunt. Her fur prickled with excitement along her spine and once she was a good ways into the forest, lifted her nose and opened her mouth to taste the air. So many smells hit her at once and she thought she might never single out prey, something rustled the pine needles and sparse foliage ahead. Her ears straightened and she lowered herself to the ground.
Moments later, two beady black eyes appeared from the pine needles and a body began to take shape, just a little darker than the dead needles, fuzzy and almost cute, but delicious in smell. It must've been a mouse. Lavender watched as it moved closer to her, the smell of the border disguising her scent. This mouse was going to walk right into her paws, what a story she could tell! She waited and waited, drool trickling out the side of her mouth as she watched in tantalizing anticipation. At the last moment, when the mouse was only a couple tail-lengths away, Lavender made her move. She bunched her muscles and launched herself forward clumsily but quickly. However, the tinkling of her collar alerted the mouse to her presence and right as she was angled to come down on it for the kill, it scurried off. The young molly collided hard with the ground, her shoulder taking the brunt of the blow. She grunted, groaned in frustration, and stood up. "Rats," she hissed and shook the dirt from her fur.
Suddenly, the foliage began to quiver and rustle again. This time it sounded much, much bigger. Lavender's eyes widened and her head raised. "Wh-who's there?" She asked, trying to make it sound like a demand, but suddenly her voice was weak.