Chapter 1

Fluffy yawned. When wasn't he yawning? Even if it was more of a rhetorical question, the poofy white tom-cat knew the answer was probably never. He knew full well that he led a rather soft, pampered life. It was boring. It was annoying.

To him, it was torture. Kind of.

He could leave. He knew that. He'd heard of several cats in his area who'd run away to be wild-cats, and while no cat had heard back from any of them, Fluffy had to hope.

Truthfully, there were a few things he didn't think he could give up no matter the gain. His soft, fuzzy nest that kept him warm in the winter moons, his meticulously cared for white pelt, fresh, clean water and food whenever he wanted it, and not needing to wake up, well, at all.

Not to mention the fact he'd have to kill things to survive. Not other cats, no, he couldn't do that, but little mice and those pretty birds that kept him company when he was lonely. Fluffy didn't wish death to anything; even the irritating flies that plagued the summer moons he couldn't bear to squash. He didn't think the bland, crunchy pellets in his food bowl had ever been alive, a disgusting but comforting thought.

But, of course, he was sure he could make some sacrifices for the sake of freedom. Maybe he could get over keeping his fur clean, or drinking a bit dirtier water. Some cats were born wild, others had made a successful transition. He was sure he could too.

Well, maybe. Maybe he could find a mentor or something. Or he could beg for food from other humans like his own. At least he had plenty of time to decide. Plenty of time for a visit with his friend, too.

He jumped down from the windowsill, one of the best places to stay in the late fall, and padded through the cat flap to the patch of neatly-kept grass outside. The garden was like a little forest, he always thought, with grass and a tree. It was all he needed to satisfy the wild-cat in him.

Well, up until recently at least. Lately he'd been yearning for something more. He didn't know quite how to name it. Smudge, however, did.

The gate was open that led into the rarely-busy streets beyond Fluffy's little forest habitat, saving his slightly pudgy body the effort of jumping over a fence. He travelled a little ways down the rough city-stone, scraping up his soft, uncalloused paw-pads in the short time he walked. Finally, he came to a familiar fence, with a familiar cat already perched upon it.

"Hello!," Smudge purred, giving his namesake black and white pelt a lick. "Come to hear more about the wild?"

"Well...sort of," Fluffy replied, bunching up his unexercised muscles and springing up to join his aging friend on the fence. He didn't quite reach the top, but sank his still kit-sharp claws into the soft wood. He held on for a heartbeat before-not without a look of pity-Smudge hauled the house cat up by his scruff. After a long moment of panting, the fluffy tom-cat continued his thought. "You know how we call that down there city-stone?" he asked, motioning with his tail towards the street not far below. "Why is that? I've never heard of a city before."

"No?" he asked, his expression curious. Fluffy shook his head. "Well, a city is a little bit like here, but there are a lot more humans. There aren't any trees, which is too bad, so cats have to stay on the ground. The buildings are a lot taller, and the streets are a lot wider. There's a lot more of everything really. Round-paws, especially, and they're constantly yowling at each other in that way only round-paws can. Surely you've heard a round-paw's cry?"

"Yes," Fluffy replied, his lips curling into a smile. "I was napping. Made me jump out of my own fur."

Smudge purred, amused. "I'll bet. I don't know how humans can stand to ride around in their bellies all day. Their eyes give me the creeps too. Like little suns. It's unnatural."

Fluffy felt a prickle of shame creep through his pelt. He didn't know what was natural and what wasn't. "Yeah," he agreed half-heartedly, before quickly changing the subject. "What are the cats like?"

Smudge's smile grew wider, showing dull fangs yellowed with wear and age. "Vicious," he purred. "They'd probably eat a cat like you. They'd eat each other if all their filthy crows and rats ran out. That's a real insult, by the way, calling a cat a rat. City cats are pretty big on insults."

Fluffy laughed. "So is it every cat for himself?"

"Depends. Some are rogues, living by themselves or with only their family. Others form groups who stick up for each other, kind of like the one my old friend ran off to join. But his was in the forest right outside here. Safety in numbers, you know?"

"Yeah."

Smudge's house was right up next to the forest, with only one other house in between. The trees were bright with the colors of fall, a thick orange carpet of leaves of the ground telling of the coming winter. Even Fluffy's untrained nose detected the faintest scent of strange-smelling cats from the forest upwind.

"So your friend joined a bunch of forest cats then? What were they called?" Fluffy inquired.

"Well," Smudge replied, the slightest trace of a hiss present in his voice, "it's really none of your business. But, if you must know, it was Thunder- something. It was seasons ago. I don't remember."

There was a bit of a tense pause before Fluffy spoke up again. "So if there are so many humans in a city, surely there are a lot of food scraps to scavenge, right?"

Smudge only looked irritated. "I know you want to run away, little fluff, but you'll never survive anywhere if you can't get over this whole death thing. Cats kill mice. Cats kill birds. In a city, they kill rats. That's life."

Fluffy curled his lip into a snarl. "I came for information," he spat, "not insults."

And with that, he jumped heavily off the fence and padded away, his plumy tail lashing in anger.

Stupid old cat, he hissed inwardly. Thinks he knows everything. Well he doesn't.

Fluffy grumbled the entire way home.