Rusty, the Kittypet
Outside, the rain howled like a wolf and lightning crackled like fireworks.
A tiny ginger tom, only two moons old, opened one eye groggily at the dark kitchen.
He stood up from his nest, gazing at the room he called his home. The electronic coffeemaker on the countertop cast a faint cerulean glow on the objects around it. The tom noticed a miniscule shape crouched by a wooden table leg, munching on something thoughtfully.
The ginger tom sniffed the air.
It's a vole! he thought cheerily. I hope the sound of my stomach rumbling won't give me away.
Not entirely sure what to do, the orange kit crouched down and gazed contemptuously at the unwary critter. With faint, paced steps, he drew closer and closer to the vole. Right before he was about to pounce, disaster struck.
His collar jangled.
Suddenly the vole, who was now mindful of the tom's prescence, scurried away into the dark recesses that the home provided.
The kit looked down at his collar, which was inscribed with the word 'Rusty', his name. Rusty pawed at the nuisance, in a furied attempt to get it off.
Rusty sniffed once more. Unfortunately, the scent of the plump vole had gone stale. Frowning, Rusty decided to settle on the brown mush his housefolk provided him with. It tasted like meat. But not prey meat.
Rusty often chatted with his friend, Smudge, who inhabited the Twoleg nest next to his own, about the mysterious cats they'd seen in the large, foreboding woods that lined their Twolegplace. They were always thinner than thin, and donned battle scars, which always frightened Rusty from the forest. Smudge always talked about how he would never dare to enter, but Rusty sometimes doubted the hostility of the forest cats. Sure, it was pretty obvious they could fight, but that wouldn't necessarily mean they'd attack him. That was his philosophy, anyway.
Rusty padded away from his bowl of food, which was now empty, feeling as insatiable as ever with the niblets he was fed. Lapping up some water from his dish, he heard pawsteps outside.
Flabbergasted, Rusty turned around and looked outside through a window. There, he spotted a congregation of four cats.
One had piercing blue eyes, and blue-gray fur, with specks of silver on their muzzle.
The next cat, a dark dappled tortoiseshell, had a bushy brick-red tail that wouldn't stay still and sharp, alert eyes.
The next one was shockingly snow-white, with yellow eyes, distinctive feathered ears, and gigantic paws, which were far larger than any of the other cats.
Lastly, there was a orange, brown, and white tortoiseshell, who Rusty could tell was a she-cat. She had enchanting amber eyes, small white paws, and a muzzle which looked like she had dipped her face in snow.
Judging by how thin they were, Rusty could tell they were forest cats. Every one of them, except for the attractive tortoiseshell, had battle scars everywhere on them.
Why would forest cats bother to step into Twolegplace? Rusty thought. Perhaps they want to be adopted? I could go wake up my housefolk and we can take them in!
Rusty studied the mysterious felines for a few more moments until he noticed something.
Their mouths were moving.
They're talking about something, he thought. I know it's impolite, but... maybe I should snoop on them.
Unfortunately for Rusty, the glass he had been surveying the cats through was soundproof, so he would have to find another option.
I can go through my door! Rusty thought.
Furtively, Rusty crawled through the flap and out into his garden. Remembering that the four odd cats could smell him, he masked his scent by hiding in a patch of wisteria his housefolk planted, hoping the forest dwellers would not pick out cat-scent from among the pungent flowers.
Now, Rusty could hear the four cats as they spoke.
"Please, Bluestar, remind me why we are here again?" one cat asked.
"Redtail, we are trying to search for Barley, remember? He said he'd meet us in Twolegplace!" another answered.
"He said to look for him at the fountain remember, Redtail?" a third meowed.
"Well, I don't see him there!" the first cat meowed defiantly.
"You mouse-brain," the third cat meowed. "He's right there!"
"He said he'd give us some catnip he found for leaf-bare, didn't he, Bluestar?" a fourth asked.
"Yes, Spottedleaf. I hope to StarClan we don't lose as many kits this time. Greencough has claimed many lives," the second cat meowed mournfully.
"It has," the fourth cat meowed solemnly. "I'll go get the catnip, alright?"
With that, the sound of a cat scampering off could be heard.
"Wait just a second," the third cat meowed. "I smell something!"
Rusty froze. Was it him the cat scented?
Rusty waited with bated breath for a reply from one of the cats.
"Whitestorm, you're a foolish piece of fox-dung!" the second cat exclaimed. "It's probably just a kittypet or a Twoleg monster."
"It is a kittypet!" the third cat meowed. "I can smell them in this garden."
"What use is a kittypet?" the first cat spat. "They're plump, lazy, and do nothing but eat or sleep. It's a waste of time, Whitestorm."
"We do need extra paws in our Clan," the second cat meowed. "If we find them, perhaps we can ask them to join ThunderClan?"
Pawsteps pattered on the cobblestone outside the garden, and Rusty recognized the scent of the fourth cat.
"What's all this about a kittypet, Bluestar?" the cat asked through a mouthful of catnip.
"Drop it so you can anunciate, Spottedleaf." Rusty could hear the fourth cat obediently follow the orders of the second cat, then repeat her sentence.
"Whitestorm scented a kittypet in that garden," the second cat meowed in reply. "I was saying if we find them, we could maybe ask them to join our Clan."
"Are you sure that is a wise decision, Bluestar?" the fourth cat asked. "An extra cat in ThunderClan will just be another mouth to feed. With leaf-bare coming up, how can you be sure a kittypet could survive? All they know is a warm nest and reliable food!"
"She has a point, Bluestar," the first cat meowed.
"We should go back to camp. It's almost moonhigh," the third cat meowed.
"You are right, Whitestorm," the second cat replied. "Come, let's return to the camp."
Then, the sound of four sets of pawsteps rang throughout the night, and Rusty settled down as they left.
Who were those cats, anyway? Rusty thought. Whoever they were, they were a little creepy. What peculiar names, too. Whitestorm? Bluestar? Redtail? Spottedleaf? How odd. And what was that about clans? Who's Barley? What on Earth is StarClan?
Questions swirled in Rusty's brain like a blizzard. As he pushed through his door, he felt the tsunami of drowsiness sweep over him like a tidal wave, and he settled down into his nest.
"Yawwwn," Rusty yawned, smacking his lips a few times, then closing his eyes.
I'll tell Smudge all about this in the morning, Rusty thought.
With that he quieted down and started to breathe evenly.
He was asleep.
Rusty awoke to the sound of his Twolegs family clattering around in the kitchen.
One of the younger Twolegs noticed he was awake, said something, and came over to pick up the small kitten. Rusty allowed them to hold him, and purred as they preened his fire-colored fur.
When the Twolegs set Rusty down, he bounded for the open window on the wall of the kitchen, and from there, he jumped to his usual fencepost.
Rusty heard a welcoming mew from below. Looking down, he spotted Smudge. He meowed a greeting, and landed on a patch of grass underneath the fence.
"Hey, Rusty!" Smudge meowed. "What's up?"
"Nothing much," Rusty replied. "But I did see something out of the ordinary last night."
Smudge was suddenly interested. "What was it?"
"Not an it," Rusty meowed. "It was a they. There were four forest cats outside my garden, and I needed to hide in the wisteria flowers to mask my scent."
"Wow, Rusty!" Smudge meowed excitedly. "That's amazing! Were they ferocious? Did they try to kill you?" Smudge made some grotesque, menacing faces.
"Quite docile, actually," Rusty meowed. "They were just in Twolegplace to retrieve some catnip from some cat named Barley."
"Can't say I've heard that one before," Smudge meowed thoughtfully.
"They were talking about all sorts of weird things," Rusty meowed. "A bunch of hubbub about kits dying in leaf-bare, that's all." Rusty decided to omit the part about the cats talking about taking a kittypet into their Clan. He didn't want to frighten Smudge, after all.
"That's really funny," Smudge meowed mirthlessly. "How weird."
Just then, one of Smudge's housefolk called from the door of the Twoleg nest, trying to coax him inside.
"Well, I'll be seeing you, Rusty!" Smudge meowed happily. "Take care! And think long and hard about those forest cats!" With that, the small black and white kitten ran off into the Twolegs' arms.
Rusty crawled into a small hole he and Smudge had made one day that connected their gardens, back when they were too small to jump. Back in the familiar scenery, he scampered for his door and went into the nest.
The metallic sound that resounded off the walls from his collar alerted the same young Twolegs from before, who was sitting in a puffy white chair. They called to him, and he jumped onto the Twolegs' lap.
You know, I don't need to worry about those scary forest cats, Rusty thought to himself. I'm just a kitten, I don't need to care about 'ThunderClan' or whatever it's called. I'm perfectly happy here.
The young Twolegs stroked his sun-warmed fur, and Rusty purred.
Yes, I am perfectly happy right here.