Okay, so... This is my first attempt at a fanfic here, and at a style like this one. Sorry if it's lame, I'll try to correct it if there are problems. Dx
To the story~
I was a rogue. Yeah, and I was a traveler. That's what I'd always been, until, like, right now. Or until a few hours ago. And it all happened so quickly...
My mother was a house cat. She was a pure white tabby with silver dapples running through her pelt, and stormy grey eyes. That's how my father would describe her, lovingly, I should say, until he died, a few moons ago.
Him, he was a real alley cat, ruddy brown with hints of golden flashing through and ordinary hazel eyes. He taught me the basics of survival, like how to creep along the ground, concealed by the shadows, and how to end a rat by cracking it's spine.
He never knew how to fight though, and you can tell with the way he died. I was five moons old.
And until, like I said, a few hours ago, I lived like he had lived, sleeping quietly by day, hunting by night, and begging from humans when the hunt didn't turn out so great.
Which it often didn't for me.
It wasn't that I was a bad hunter, no. I mean, my father had been an awesome one, and it turned out I had inherited his skill. It was my mother that ruined my stealth. You see, I'm almost nothing like my mother. I don't have her character. I don't have her eyes.
But I have her pelt.
I'm a snow white she-cat, but really snow white, with none of the grey stripes she had. Like you can guess, white fur doesn't really help for stealthy approaches. I had to learn how to jump from afar, how to run so quickly my prey wouldn't stand a chance, and how to trap it in shadowy corners where it couldn't escape.
My coat didn't help much with staying unnoticed by my kind either. Gang or alley cats saw me from miles around, shes, but also toms. Spirits, I'm going to die with those.
At first, I rolled in the mud to get rid of my mother's legacy, the oh-so crappy white pelt. Then, I realized it could be an advantage in certain occasions, and I kept it as clean as a house cat would. Lick, lick, ick.
I'm twelve moons old now, and my pelt cursed and helped me more than I can say. Until now.
I stumbled across this gang, a new one to the neighborhood, today. I already said it a few times, I think. The leader was a calm black tom with vibrant green eyes, and I thought he would be easy to manipulate. I've unnerved many calm leaders before. But he was accompanied by a she-cat, and that never helps, as you can guess.
Not that he seemed interested either.
I couldn't run, because I was stuck behind the trash cans I had been sifting in to find food. The rats hadn't really been around that day. So, at first, I thought it was just a couple of mates that would quickly let me go as soon as they chased me out of their hunting grounds. I didn't know all the mates around, so they could have been here all the while and I wouldn't have noticed them.
I'm making this point, to explain why I hadn't stayed out of their territory, so you can understand how I got into this situation. Because, I'm just saying, I'm a very careful she-cat, and I know all the gangs and their leaders. I know to stay of their land.
But them, those cats, I didn't know them.
Behind the calm leader and his supposed mate came two other toms, a cream one I found lovingly handsome and a small, seemingly self-important golden one. And behind them, I know, I'm getting annoying with all those descriptions, came a blue-eyed Siamese and a ratty grey tabby.
That's when I realized I really had it bad. So, there I was, you see, backed up against a corner with that hostile supposed mate, the calm leader, and their followers. I tried to talk myself out of it but the dashing cream tom kept distracting me and the Siamese kept snapping at me, so the leader decided to embark me to question the 'unknown she-cat', as he put it, further.
Ugh.
The annoying, small golden tom, which I could tell was the youngest and most annoying one, was put as my guard. I waited a few hours in a hole in the brick wall they put me in, and, that's where I am now.
"And you should stay of our land next time, because, honestly, we don't like outsiders, and, like, we only take in the best, so, you know, just, stay of our place, and..."
The nasal voice of the catling, which I learned was Fink, disturbed me to the highest point. It sounded like you put a kit whining, a she-cat's sore throat, and a hurt tom in a paste, and made it into a voice, and there you had his.
And he was just so... He had the biggest pride I could ever imagine seeing. It was scary.
Finally, my patience, which had never been that great in the first place, snapped. "Look, I don't care how awesome your gang is or how amazing you are. I just want to get out," the last word turned into a hiss.
He stared at me, yellow eyes hurt.
What's wrong with this cat? I've barely even met him and he takes this personally?
Then, Fink stood up, neck fur bristling a bit, and hurried away. I blinked. The cat had left me with no guards, and as I looked around, I realized the grassy dump where they had their camp was empty. I could run. Make a break for it, dash away, flee, however you put it.
It would be almost too easy.
But I was actually curious for the rest. Fink had chatted nonstop for the last couple of hours, and I had understood from his blabber these cats were travelers. Travelers.
I had traveled. A bit. With my father, going in the forest around here. But I had never left the safe perimeter of the city. Plus, the forest was destroyed. My father had told me cats lived there not long ago, a lot of wild cats in gangs or something, except they were called clans.
His sister's mate knew a cat named Smudge, who's best friend Rusty went to live with them. The last time Smudge saw Rusty, her father had told her one night when they were were sleeping together, was when they were about to leave the forest.
Rusty had been renamed Firestar, and was looking like a pile of bones knotted together by skin. He'd told Smudge that the clans had to leave the forest because the 'Twolegs', as he called them, I mean, the humans, had destroyed their homes. Smudge had explained that to one of his friends, who turned out to be my father's sister's mate. So the tom told that to his she-cat, who'd told that to my father.
I know, this is long and annoying. So, my father had told me that, before he died, and the result was that I spent a lot of my time after his death daydreaming of finding the clans and living with them, having friendship and warmth and all of that whatnot.
And that's why I stayed with the gang that had captured me. Because I thought that if we traveled far, we might find the clans and I would live with them. I know, stupid right? How could I know we would find the clans? Spirits, how did I even know they would accept me with them, if I asked to join?
I'll also say part of the reason I stayed was the handsome cream tom. That's why I thought I was hallucinating when I saw him picking his way across the grass towards me, yellow eyes observing me in a quiet, unnerving way. I was suddenly proud of my clean white pelt.
"Hey,' he greeted me coolly as he settled near me, wrapping his bushy tail around his feet. 'Fink asked me to replace him as a sentry."
"Hey," I mewed back, trying to sound as calm as him. 'Thanks for saving me. I thought I would never get rid of him."
Was I being too familiar?
The tom looked at me straight in the eye, "He's my little brother."
"Oh,' was all I managed to say. 'Sorry."
"No need to be," He shrugged.
There was a long silence in which I could feel his unnerving calm. I was too occupied thinking of what I should say. And cursing myself. I had never met this tom, ever, never wanted to do anything with a tom, ever, and there I was. Not to mention the fact I just, oh, didn't know his gang, had no reason to be as nice as I was, and-
"Why did you stay?" He asked suddenly.
"What?"
"Why did you stay here? Fink was gone, there was nobody around. You could have left. You have no reason to still be here," he added sharply.
I was a little shocked. What to reply? "Because, um, I... have a sprained paw."
There. That should do it. I would only have to pretend to limp a little.
"Oh," he said. "Reyni is a good healer. You should go see her later when you-" He cursed in a low voice.
I stared at him, confused, not realizing what he had been implying; "Who's she?"
It was his turn to look me in the eye with his golden ones. "She's the smoky grey tabby, with the white stripes," he mewed, relieved I hadn't noticed what his sentence had meant.
This was awkward. Another silence settled between us, and I looked up at the sky, surprised to see pink and red hues stretching across it like feathers. Night was falling.
"What's your name?" He asked softly. Cats were always quieter at night.
"It's Snow,' I answered without thinking. No. This wasn't right. It was my mother's name. I know I haven't said it before, but my name's actually Alix. But I wanted him to look at me, to admire me, my fur, I wanted him to think of how I looked each time he said my name. I blinked uncertainly. I'd never thought this before.
"An uncommon name for a city cat," he observed.
I felt I needed to give an explanation, even a lame one. "My mother was a housecat. Her housefolk took her to live in a house near the forest, once, and she met wildcats. That's where she got my name," I mewed, on the defensive.
He didn't say anything more. I tried to prevent another uneasy silence; "And what's yours?"
"What?" His mew was strange, as if I'd pulled him out of a daydream.
"Your name,' I huffed slightly. 'I asked you your name."
"It's Rà."
What a strange name.
I was about to open my mouth to reply when the calm black leader appeared on the horizon, almost invisible in the ink black night except for his eyes. Beside him strode the she-cat I supposed was Reyni, with her fluffy grey coat and pale stripes glowing in the darkness.
"Stand up," Rà murmured softly.
And I stood up and waited.
I know the ending is rushed and lame, but I gtg. I'll try to correct it later.
R&R
Icejj
