The sound of a quiet house, it can either be welcoming or something eerie that one comes to fear. It can be amazing, yet terrifying. The silence is broken when the sound of heavy paw steps, followed by one tiny one. Soon the house booms with life, the ringing of two bells and the mewls of a kitten awaken Amanda Clarke, the middle aged woman with only two cats as her company. She begins her regular routine, and soon leaves the cats alone.
"Icarus," Comes the sweet familiar purr of a mother, calling to her son as he has scampered off. Her name was Quince, and still may be. A kind and gentle cat, who adored her black son with puffs of gray in his fur. "Yes, momma?" Icarus soon trots back, almost waddling as his small legs could barely keep him on the ground. His belly scraped across the wooden flooring, "Watch your footing silly, you could get hurt." She reminds and leads the kitten to the back door, helping it get out towards the back yard through the helpful cat door.
Icarus always loved going outside, although he didn't like the strange thing around his neck he always had to wear. The grass was soft under his paws, and the scent of flowers and colors flooded the small backyard with a single willow tree. "Please listen Icarus," Quince would softly say and soon turn to her son. "I trust you enough to be out here alone, don't talk to strangers or leave okay?" The black kitten would nod his head, blue eyes studying the backyard as mother and son walked. He had recalled playing with kittens similar to him, although some more gray - or sometimes had white dots on them. Although that was a thing of the past, and he forgot quickly. It had always been him and Quince - right? Quince would sit down under the tree, watching her son as she would smile softly. Icarus would begin chasing a butterfly with white wings, entranced by the strange flying bug before flopping onto his side and giggling. He would squirm onto his back, and make his way over to Quince. "Can you tell me a story, mom?" Icarus would ask, pressing against her sweet smelling fur. "Of course, my dear." Quince would purr, swiping her tongue over the black kitten with patches of gray fur.
"Beyond the fence lived a group of cats, they were so strange and only listened to one cat. Despite being strange, they had strange powers. Sometimes they could speak to the stars." She would pause, listening to the drowsy kit begin to yawn as she would soon carry on with her story. "But, somewhere else lived a family. A gray she-cat and her mate had given birth to their first litter, she named the white one after an egg, and one after the moss she was born on. Her son named after the rock she gave birth under, and the runt after the strong tide to give him a chance."
Icarus would listen to Quince, the old mother spoke passionately about the tale which forced himself to stay awake. "One day, the tide would soon be swept away. And the egg would leave with the rock, leaving a sad mother with nothing but her moss. The egg and rock traveled forever, but the rock soon was crumpled leaving the egg alone. The egg would soon find the strange cats, and join. Although the egg would desire to start a nest, but soon left again. The gray cat and her moss would travel towards the upperlegs, the moss convincing the gray cat to live as a house cat so she would be safe." Quince would stop when Icarus fell asleep, gently brushing his tongue through his fur and picking him back up and carrying him back inside.