Huff, huff, huff.
I scampered around a corner, sliding to the side. My paws protested in extreme exhaustion for me to stop sprinting, especially after running for almost forty-minutes, doing nothing else but. I refused to let their soreness slow me down, though. After seeing what had just happened to my once perfect home with my now deceased parents, I was not about to turn back around and go back.
Tears strayed down my white cheeks as realization took over me. Three weeks I had been a living, breathing kitten and the daunting taste of death had already been laid in front of my wide black eyes. Now, I was alone in the world; without my siblings or parents. I was now Anorra, The Orphan Cat.
Now my poor little body was begging me to stop. After a good thirty minutes running, it couldn't take any more of my racing. I staggered to a stop and looked behind me, seeing nothing but pure trash and steam. My eyes pulled back into a sad expression as I hunched my shoulders and tried to keep myself warm in the chilly weather.
The tears still trickled down my face while I stood under a broken lamppost, scared and tormented. I sniffed up the snot that threatened to fall from my nostrils; still crying. I looked up at the moon, my now cloudy black eyes connecting with its brightness. I frowned, as I felt none of its light had connected to me, and looked away, beginning to cry rapidly.
I lay myself down by the lamppost, after getting rid of all the trash that surrounded it. I was hesitant to put my round chin onto my weathered paws, afraid their twinkle may affect me.
I shifted uncomfortably, upset, and furrowed my eyes. My small black nose crinkled and my back arched into the air. With out thinking, I forced my little paw into the air. It aimed toward a pile of trash that lay smelling up a storm. I growled vicously as a flash of what appeared to be lightening erupted from my tiny paw.
The trash was illuminated until it finally blew up. It spread into many different places in the steaming alley way. I stood away, now off the ground and hunched on a small barrel. My heavy breathing became heavier as more tears struck my eyes and I finally collapsed.
Still conscious, my eyes wandered around, seeing nothing but pure darkness surrounding me. My eyes began turning into slits, tired and weary. I meowed slightly, as if trying to call for help before. My head fell onto the barrel's wooden top and I let out one more meow before collapsing completely out of consciousness.
●●●
I slept heavily that night. Both great dreams…and terrible nightmares were abundantly playing in my head and were somewhat repeated. I could feel that I was curled up in a ball, one paw in my mouth. Aside from once being colder than a cat being locked up in a freezer, I was warm and cozy. It was so comfortable.
Too comfortable.
My ears twitched as I awoke from my once deep sleep. My eyes fluttered open to see nothing but a dark wall. I raised my head and shifted my legs to sit up. I flickered my head to them and saw myself covered with a torn blanket that was once completely over me. A meow threatened to escape from my dry throat and I tiredly let it out, quietly at first and then loudly for my second time. I looked around, afraid that I was alone again.
A sudden clash interrupted the silence of the air and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. My back arched and I looked behind me, seeing something or in this case, some cat I never had known my whole short life.
He appeared right behind me, all four paws on the ground, squatting. His sparkle filled brown eyes stared at me with a strange curiosity I had never seen in any cat's eyes. A mouse was stuffed in his mouth, dangling awkwardly from it. I jumped back and shrieked for him being right by me so unexpectedly. My claws were nearly filing the walls.
My eyes averted from his head to his back paws. He had black and white fur, black mostly, and white only being around his mouth, chest, shins, and right hand. From the looks of it, he was still a young tom.
He got up from where he squatted and strolled toward my side. I watched in fear and curiosity as he laid the dead mouse in front of me. Not that I didn't appreciate the tom's generosity, but I was too afraid to even remove my claws from their death grip on the wall.
The cat pushed the mouse toward me, though, with his paw. I watched every single move of it until he began to speak to who I think was me. I looked up at him quickly and gasped as the sound of his voice flowed through my head.
"Go ahead," He told me, almost whispering. He pushed the mouse even closer to me this time he drew closer as well. I shifted back, afraid for him to get any closer and he backed away slightly, taking it as a sign for him to do so, "Eat."
I glanced from the mouse to him, automatically connecting eyes. I could feel my uneven-breathing chest move up and down slowly, trembling severely. He grinned widely, though, which brought me some sort of comfort. It made him seem kind. Key word here is "seem".
"Don't be scared."
My eyes glanced only at him momentarily, though, as I looked back at the mouse. His words were comfort, though. "Don't be scared." It was the first time someone had ever told me that, or ever wanted to tell me that.
I picked the mouse up into my paw, balancing it and then holding it by its silk feeling tail. I examined it carefully for any sort of trick that could've been played. I looked back at him, who was still slightly smiling.
"W-what about you?" I meowed back. He grin grew as I finally spoke.
"So you aren't mute," He breathed, laughing vaguely. I tucked my lips into my mouth and looked down.
The mouse dropped from my paws and I looked down at the blanket that I now realized was a potato sack. I shifted again, away from the mouse.
The tom's smile evaporated and it went back into a straight line that was still warm and welcoming. My arched brows circled around in the back as my big eyes looked back at him. It seemed wrong almost, for him to help me. I could already tell by the look in his twinkling eyes that he was the one that had saved me from the lonely streets, by myself.
"I already ate my share of the hunt," He told me, assuring me that it was safe for me to devour the dead rodent, "That one there is for you."
Quickly, I snatched up the mouse from its spot on the potato sack. My eyes observed it before actually eating it. I inserted the rodent into my mouth and chomped down on it vicously, as if I hadn't eaten for weeks.
The tom laughed humorously at me as a swallowed the mouse. The wide smile appeared again, making me feel even more welcomed by him.
"If you hadn't been a kitten I would've called you fierce to the mouse," He laughed, "Nice to see you're actually eating, though."
I swallowed the remains of the mouse from my paw and then dropped it to my side, eyes still connected to him.
"H-how did y-you get here so f-fast," I quivered in my speech again, which embarrassed me terribly. His smile changed my embarrassment, though, and I looked toward him again.
"Magic," He whispered, enthusiastically and dramatically, "My name is Mr. Mistoffelees, the magical cat."
Magic? I couldn't believe that just after a manner of minutes that I already had something in common with this Mr. Mistoffelees cat. Amazing, I thought, since I never knew anyone else that could do magic.
"Yours?" He asked quietly, face cocking forward. My shoulders hunched again and I looked down with shy eyes again, "Don't be shy."
My eyes looked back up to connect with his, twinkle connecting with twinkle. I swallowed softly, getting a taste of leftover mouse, and opened my mouth to speak.
"A-Anorra," I muttered. His ears flickered, as if he hadn't heard me. I thought it was done purposely, though, for me to learn to raise my voice, "Anorra."
He laughed and held his paw out for me to take and shake.
"Nice to meet you, then," He said nodding toward me, "Anorra."
As reluctant as I was, it was dawning on me when my tiny paw reached and touched his bigger one. And what was even more surprising was when I felt a magical charge go through my paw, making me gasp. Slowly, I removed my paw away from his, putting it down by my side. With one more assuring and warm smile, he looked toward me and got up from his spot.
"It doesn't pay much to be shy," He told me, nearly whispering, "I'm a shy cat myself, but I've learned that you don't gain much from being so hesitant to let people in."
And with that final sentence, he turned and leaped from the platform I had slept on, strutting to a nearby box of Ritz.
I still sat in my safe little corner, where I had just talked to who I thought was brought down from the clouds of cat heaven. This Mr. Mistoffelees cat, the man who had been such my Samaritan, had granted me another chance at life, with hope. His wide grin was impaling my brain sweetly as he suddenly felt like the only person I could have in the world, and I had only known him for a couple of minutes.
He seemed more like a father to me than just a mere stranger.