(Hola ladies and gents (: I present to you, my story, The Animal Whisperer! Please don't eat me if I butcher this story and make it living HECK for you. I try my hardest. Plus it's my story! I can write if badly if I please.
Anyways, please leave me reviews!
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman and other DC Comic characters, unfortunately.)
Many eyes, both large and small stared at me through various metal fences. The glowing orbs were all trained on me, with such intent that nothing could break their focus. The farm often became eerily quiet at this time; the beginning of feeding time. Not one creature stirred, as though even a small movement would send me sprinting for the farmhouse for dear life. Of course, I'd never run away from them. They were my children, my consoling companions away from the hustle and bustle of the ever-busy city. I wasn't quite sure of their feelings towards me, though aggression was rarely shown towards my person. I liked to think that they loved me, accepted me as one of their own. I felt close to them, many of them had been with me since birth and the others since childhood.
I reached my hand into the bucket, my fingers connecting with a slick, oddly cool surface. I think many people would recoil at the contact of something that seemed as vile as this, but I merely dug my hand down deeper. With my free hand, I quietly unlatched the first gate I came across. I walked inside noisily, drawing attention to my arrival, so not to take anyone by surprise. Surprise usually meant defense on their part. I called to them, my voice a soft coo, like a mother speaking to her baby. They came to my calls, as usual, excited and quivering at the promise of the meat I had pulled out of the bucket. They were smaller than me, for the most part. They were actually the smallest residents on the farm: Ocelots. Their slim frames let them move with ease as they stared up at me. Their eyes were the colors of the moon, light and mysterious. I rarely ever saw these cats aside from feeding time. It was my time to admire the lithe forms of these over-sized house-cats. They had pelts of golden tan and white, the black rosettes and spots contrasting easily. I threw the meat down and thus began the feeding frenzy. They hissed and spit at one another, clawing for the first bite. The bigger of the cats came out on top, stealing the biggest pieces and eating until full. I took this opportunity to run my hands over the soft fur on their backs. Some shied away from my touch, retreating to the shadows and the long grass. Others pushed up against my hand, arching their backs, much like house-cats. A soft smile touched my lips and I stood up again.
I repeated this process over and over with each resident. Lynxes, bobcats, coyotes, leopards, panthers, jaguars, cheetahs, wolves, lions, tigers, and bears. I wasn't as touchy and relaxed around the larger animals for obvious reasons. None of them had ever hurt me in any aggressive form before, but I was not going to take chances. All the animals were still wild at heart, no matter how much they seemed domesticated. It was much easier feeing the herbivores of the farm. Some were skittish and apprehensive, but never were they aggressive towards me. It came as a surprise, the vast number of residents that lived here on my farm. I owned a great expanse of land, a result of having parents with much money. Still, I made my own money, only borrowing from them in times of great need. I loved every single animal on my farm, from the deer to the grizzly bears. Each animal held a story to be told; Stories of abuse and neglect, stories of abduction and cruelty. I took every one in, my heart full of love and care. It took a great amount of time for those to warm up to me, since their experiences with humans had been less than pleasant. I was as stubborn as they were, visiting every day until their trust was gained.
My farm was located outside of a large city. The city was called Gotham and it had one of the highest crime rates in the United States. The citizens never felt safe, even in their homes, since crimes happened almost anywhere. I didn't hold much fear for my life. Fear creates an illusion and clouds your judgment. I never felt fear when I entered my animals' enclosures and my calm aura radiated to them. Fear and anxiety is contagious. The animal enclosures were large; giving the animals room to roam free. I tried my best to imitate their natural habitats to some extent. I was never cruel or neglectful towards them either.
My farm was a huge responsibility; the animals needed constant care. I rarely ever went into the city. It wasn't worth the risk anyways. But I did at times, to visit with friends who lived amongst the stone and concrete. I had few friends, whom I was very close to. Amelia Turner was my friend since grade school. She had been with me through all the ups and downs of my life. She was practically my sister and she was the one who visited me here at the farm often. She was my gossiper; she brought in news and told me what was happening in Gotham.
"People refer to you as The Animal Whisperer when you are brought up," She told me once. I had only smiled; the name seemed to fit somehow.
I hated choosing favorites between my animals. They all had an equal amount of my life. Whenever one passed away, I lost a part of myself. Despite that, I found that there was one whom I always felt close to. It was a very large and intimidating male lion. His name was Aslan, named after my favorite lion character in The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. Aslan was very unique; his fur was a luscious snow white color, instead of the usual tan. His eyes were a heart-stopping sapphire blue, as deep as the ocean. As frightening and brutish he appeared to be, Aslan was a docile cat. He never fought for dominance or anything. Despite the dangers, I would lie down with Aslan, stroking his think mane and giving him kisses. He never seemed to mind, as he would nuzzle and groom me, like a mate or pride member. He came to the farm as a cub. He had been orphaned when a poacher had killed his mother and taken off with him. He was beaten and kept in a cage, until he was rescued. I had hand-raised him until he was old enough to go out with the others. Our unbreakable bond was eminent.
I thought my life was perfect; everything seemed to be going the way I liked. Nothing could get to me and I wanted it to stay that way. Everything seemed to change the day an unfamiliar visitor showed up on my front porch.
(A/N: Well! There you have it folks! The first chapter of The Animal Whisperer. It may be a bit short, but oh well. I really hope to continue, so please, PLEASE review!)