SPECIAL THANKS TO:
Everyone on AA who set up the perfect scenario for Rafty's life =3
And of course, to Gentle for coming up with Rafty's name and basic character set-up for me to build off of.
You and everyone else rock! =D

Beautiful Disaster

Prologue:
The Girl Underwater

The she-cat was loved by her house-folk. They fed her, pet her, kept her warm during the long leaf-bare nights. It was with them that she had a home, and it seemed no matter what she did, they were forgiving. Take the time she'd knocked over their son's paint set and ruined their fuzzy den floor. They'd yelled only briefly before scooping her up and stroking her head, as if apologizing for scolding her. She loved her life and her twolegs. Until she met someone she loved more. And then things went upside down. Her twolegs only had enough affection for one cat, so when the kits came, their sympathy for the feline hit an all time low. Her kits were taken, and from this point on their mother was forgotten to this story.

By the side of the Thunderpath was where the twolegs left them. The box they lay inside was flimsy, but too high for them to climb out. Besides, they were but 2 or 3 weeks of age before being kidnapped and abandoned. Their pitiful mewls were drowned out by the roar of passing monsters. Not even the stray cats of the city bothered with the kits. It was every feline for themselves.

Not several days after being dropped off, 2 kits had died of starvation or cold. Perhaps even trauma. No one knew for sure. The 3 remaining kits' fate looked bleak. That is, until along came a guardian angel in the form of a 10-year old twoleg girl skipping ahead of her parents. When she saw the box of squealing babies, she instantly scooped up the biggest one. The kit was a bright-eyed she-cat with the creamiest coat of honeydew that the girl had ever seen. Her parents, fairly new to the whole concept of raising a child, were the kind of starters who were fearful of angering their daughter and therefore spoiled her quite badly. The girl wanted the kit and its littermates, but, having the sense to set a boundary somewhere, the adults said one was all they could take responsibility for. And so, the kit was named Anabelle and was taken to her new home in the suburbs. She was too young to miss or remember her littermates. It would come as no expense to her when a rainstorm 2 days later drowned them in the box, their trapped forms left to float and rot in the murky water.

For the most part, Anabelle led a normal kittypet life. Her twolegs were better off than most, and so she always had a bowl of warm milk and a tuna-filled stomach to lull her to sleep. She was raised with the taste of bottled drink on her tongue and the stroke of bare skin hands through her fur. For the most part, the adults were tolerant of her rather needy nature. They gave her a stern love. To say they were fond of the she-cat was even an understatement. It was really their kit that was in love with the kittypet. Anabelle was quite patient with their daughter. The girl liked to brush the she-cat's fur and stroke her just the right way, between Anabelle's ears. The kittypet was spoiled, with a plump belly and shiny tags that her twoleg girl polished every night.

The she-cat was naive and prissy, and she thought that others envied her and wanted to be her. She did charity for neighboring cats or strays, thinking she was a compassionate cat when, subconsciously, she was doing it to feel better about herself. She'd never ventured outside the city, but did like to hear stories from those who passed through. She was quite a pretty she-cat, so it wasn't hard for her to get the daily dose of gossip.

And then he came along. He was a small tom, thin and wiry with half a tail protruding from his rump. His claws, jagged and several missing, had torn through earth and sky. He was a scraggly tabby, lean and unimpressive. However, when Anabelle saw him, the first thing she noticed were his eyes. They blazed with the fire of one who had seen and done everything and had nothing to fear. He was short, but stood tall. He was mottled, yet a dashing soldier returned from battle. His mouth did not smile, but instead set itself in a fixed line. But when he noticed her watching him for the first time, her heart fluttered and she fell in love.

The tom was not a gentleman. In fact, he was quite rude to Anabelle and even called her rather profane names at times. But her cupidity for him was so intense that she didn't care how he treated her. She was blinded, convinced that they were meant to be. The she-cat was used to getting what she wanted, and the tom was used to having others take one look and leave him alone. Not the most compatible couple, right? Well, some way or another, the tom saw some use in Anabelle, and the two became what you could call 'mates'.

You see, the two weren't very close. Anabelle loved drama and tales of trepidation, while the tom was simply looking for food, water, and a nest. Anabelle was the only one willing to offer either to the tom, but it was quite clear that she would not do so unless there was some sort of relationship between them.

Anabelle never did grow on the tom. He found her annoying and loud, and unappreciative of the life she'd been given. Frankly, he hated being around her, and he felt ashamed to be seen in public walking by her side, but with her, he had the best resources he'd ever come across, not to mention the only ones he'd ever been offered. He didn't like Anabelle, but less than a year after they'd started their little 'arrangement', the she-cat was bearing his kits, and that was when he knew it was time to move on before he got buried any deeper into the mess that was the kittypet.

He left in the night; sneaking out from under the bush in Anabelle's twoleg's yard where she let him sleep. He slipped under the fence and left the city, gone before sunrise had even breached the horizon, not even looking back to wonder about the kits to be born.

Meanwhile, as the father of her kits was going off on his own way across the world, Anabelle was busy preparing for the time of her birth. She had at first taken her mate's disappearance hard. She wouldn't eat, and was afraid to sleep in case she dreamt of him. However, her friends told her over and over again that he would come back. They assured her that no tom in his right mind would ever leave someone as gorgeous as Anabelle, and Anabelle let herself believe that he really loved her. She thought that as long as she could remain beautiful and well-off, he would come back. And so this was how she convinced herself. The queen had her kits in the safety of her home, determined to raise her offspring well so that, when their father came back, he would be proud and realize how much he really loved Anabelle.

There were three of them; strong, healthy toms with shiny little tags of their own as soon as their necks were thick enough to bear them. The first and eldest, Kegan, was a brawny little cat. He had his mother's milk and cream coat with soft blue eyes that contrasted with his bulky size. He was the oldest, and therefore believed it was his duty to do everything before his brothers. That meant that Hazel, the middle kit and also the one with the best heart, would naturally follow in his pawsteps. Hazel was a light-furred tabby, like their father, but he had his mother's warm eyes. He, sweet and outgoing, was always Rafty's favorite brother. Which brought up the appearance of said youngest; the kit with some grandsire or other's pitch black coat.

Anabelle knew at once that he was the best looking of the bunch. Of course, all three had their mother's good genes, but Anabelle decided the moment Rafty could see her that he would be her favorite. He did, after all, have his father's eyes.