It was dark, midnight of the new moon, and it seemed even the stars were hiding. A few wisps of clouds crossed the ebony night, but to the north raged huge gray-breasted monsters, their flashing claws of lightning the only real light in the sky and their deafening yowls of thunder the only sound. The wind swept relentlessly through the streets, over and between the buildings and gardens and alleyways, chill, biting, and promising that the fearsome wrath of nature was on its way.

Not many braved the coming danger, most people holed up within their homes, their brightly-lit televisions blaring infomercials, popular shows, and, most common, tornado warnings. Surely all the children were in bed asleep, but their parents were fretting, planning, checking and re-checking. And their animals too were hidden away, knowing the unseen power that this storm could cause, hiding so that they would survive and live on. But not one. Perched high up on one of the taller homes, sitting high on the flat-topped chimney, one could see the flawless silhouette of a feline. She sat tall and unfazed as her coat rippled in the gale, poised with her tail curled comfortably over her paws. Her sharp eyes stared directly to the fierce, merciless force of nature, ears perked forward in interest. If one managed to come close enough, they would be granted the sight of the small, grim smile set upon her muzzle, the resigned but defiant spark in her smoldering pools.

She was not looking at the storm itself, but at what it represented. She had always done that. She had always been a rebel, more of a wild, street cat than one of those tame, calm, relaxed, house cats. She came and went as she pleased, caught her own food, but this was her home, for now. Her humans were kind, but she grew tired of them often, and knew in her heart that she was not what they had wanted, not what they had 'payed for' when they shipped her across the wide expanse of blue. But of course, she wasn't prissy like one might think a cat of her pure-bred lines would be, not proud. In fact, she didn't care. Besides, she definitely did not have that soft temperament her breed her supposed to have. But we may come across that at another time. For now, we shall return to the reason for this little narrative, the reason for the backdrop of our beautiful leading lady.

Picking back up the tangled mess of her drama's thread, she stared calmly out across the city around her, watched calmly as the disaster ruling the skies came closer. In her head, the danger did not register much, only resulting in a rush of anticipation through her blood, and unsheathing of her expectant paws against the unyielding brick beneath them. Something big was coming, something bigger than the storm. This was a warning, a promise. She knew -- she hoped, wished, dreamed -- that whatever was coming would change her life forever.

--Margalo


Yes, I know this is short, but it is only the prologue, and prologue are known to be short. (Unlike my seven page prologue for an orginial story... but we won't be getting into that, because it has absolutely nothing to do with this ;) Anyways, please review, it really makes my day! You know, even if you critisize me (nicely!) I like hearing from my readers, instead of just getting tons of hits and not a single word of feed back. But, whether you do or not, I'll still keep writing. The story calls and all, as my fellow writers know. Historix-xx, signing off!