Same Circles
By
Laughing Still
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, wish I did but I don't.
Chapter 1: Hunger
A cat's life was heaven. No really, it was. If the gods favored you, you were a cat. You slept in the sun all day, clawed anything you wanted, were provided with a lovely home, soft bed, good food, and all the adoration you wanted from a doting human and all this was given to you just because you existed.
If you were a tabby cat or house cat that was.
For every other feline, it was a different story. She could tell you, she knew. If you were anything other than the aforementioned species, you shared two things with them—fur and claws, and the similarities ended there. You learned fast and you learned young, or you were dead. Nature could be your friend, but she could also kill you. The games you played with your brothers, sisters, and cousins—biting, scratching, and tussling with each other—trained you for hunting. Mom gave you a name and taught you where water was and what happened when you strayed too far from it. You learned that your claws and teeth were your best friends and kept them razor sharp. You learned that you were at the top of the food chain, and while most every other animal was below you, there were a few who shared that lofty place with you and there were rules regarding any encounters between equals. Then, when you had learned all the family could teach you, you were driven away, sent to see if you could really make it on your own. If you could, you were rewarded with children of your own, if you couldn't, well, you weren't worth it in the first place then.
A twig snapped and she immediately crouched lower on her pine branch. She could smell the elk and knew it couldn't be more than 20 yards away. It was a large bull and better yet, coming straight for her. The elk continued crashing through the undergrowth, stomping on dead leaves and snapping off dead twigs with its antlers. She could see it now and her mouth watered at the size of it.
10 yards away.
The bull paused and sniffed, ears twitching. She crouched still lower and froze, planning her attack.
The bull began moving again.
5 yards away.
She pounced. Her claws caught it around the neck and her teeth sank deep into its throat, puncturing both windpipe and esophagus. The bull panicked and attempted to throw her off, bellowing. She released it and it turned around, bolting downhill. It hadn't gone 40 yards however when it collapsed and slammed into a tree, a loud crack informing her that the spinal column had snapped. She took her time going down to it; it was still breathing hard and attempting to escape, too stupid to realize it was already dead. A moving meal was never fun and she had been kicked enough by hoofs to come to respect them. If your meal wasn't dead, you didn't eat it. Happily though, this bull had the courtesy to die quickly and she wasn't even forced to break stride as she approached it. She stopped just behind the shoulder and watched as it gave one last strangled breath. She hardly waited for it to exhale before tearing into it. It was dinner time and she was hungry.
The first bite was disgusting but she barely noticed; that was how it always was. In order to get to the good stuff, you had to get through fur. On smaller animals, it was made bearable by a large chunk of meat attached but on large ones, like this, it was all hair. It didn't matter though because a second later, she was eating chest muscle and lung, a heavenly combination of hard, real meat and delicate, blood saturated tissue. She was through one lung in a matter of seconds and relished the feeling of a filling stomach. All she could smell was meat and blood an—
Her head jerked up and her entire body tensed. There was someone else up here, someone unwelcome. It wasn't prey, she knew that, prey she wouldn't have minded.
No, this was someone far worse.
She sniffed again and strained her ears. He was still around, hiding just behind—her eyes fell on a tree 10 feet from hers.
There, coming silently toward her, was a wolf.
She crouched again and bared her teeth, warning him to back off. This was her meal and she'd be damned if she shared it with anyone.
He paused momentarily then continued toward her.
Her claws extended of their own will.
He was now four feet from her bull's hind legs.
She hissed furiously, giving him one more chance to get lost.
He stopped two feet from the bull and sat down, looking at her. A shaft of sunlight fell on him and her heart stopped at what she saw.
She'd heard about this wolf. The one that had a pure grey coat and a scar running though his left eye where one of the two-legged ones had attacked him with a knife. They said it was a miracle he hadn't lost that eye and looking at it, she could believe it. He was the son of the White Fang, the alpha male of the pack in these mountains.
That wasn't what made her freeze though.
It was the other rumors she'd heard. They said that he was a loner and while this was normal for her kind, with wolves it was different. Wolves were deathly loyal to their pack and the second most social animal in the forest. For one to be alone like this was unusual to say the least, particularly one from that pack. Their loyalty to each other bordered on obsession and even the most pathetic of them would have a buddy or two with him at all times. So for the leader's son to be alone…
She watched him warily, nervousness replacing anger. What was he doing alone? The thought of banishment entered her mind but she dismissed it instantly. Banishment was a worse punishment than death and unthinkable of that clan. Banishment meant that you were touched in the head or a traitor.
Her stomach clenched. Neither of those were desirable. Maybe that was why he hadn't stopped, because he was crazy. But no, as she looked at him again, those grey blue eyes didn't show insanity. So he was a traitor. She didn't know which was worse, the insane killed senselessly, it was true, but traitors, especially of his kind…
Every instinct in her was telling her to get away but her tongue remembered the taste of the elk and her stomach chimed in that it was not satisfied with three mouthfuls. As though to further make its point, it growled loudly.
Which should she choose? Stay and possibly be attacked while eating, or leave and go hungry for the sixth day in a row? Her stomach growled again, making up her mind for her. Keeping both eyes on her unwanted guest, she reached inside the dead elk and tore out the very best part of it—the heart. Then, quick a lightning, she snatched it in her teeth and bounded away, up a tree and gone in seconds.