I remember my mother. Not a lot of her, but I do remember that I had one.

I don't remember her name, but I do remember what she looked like. I don't think I was ever able to learn her name.

I remember she tried to rescue me when the bird took me. I was not scared, at the time, I thought it was a game. I was flying. It was fun. It stopped being fun when I realized I wasn't coming back. I never saw my mother again.

When the bird dropped me into her nest and flew away, probably to get more food, the memory of being taken away kept replaying in my head. I may have only been a small kit, but images were strong for me. I was good at seeing, even if the other cats didn't realize that.

Even with my short life so far, I was smart enough to realize that only my mother really tried to rescue me. Oh sure, the others "tried" to. They didn't try as hard as they could. If they did, I would probably still be there.

They thought I wouldn't last long in that clan, so it was better this way.

Because I'm deaf.

Well what my life became was harder than any kind of life in a clan.

And I'm still alive.

Let me tell you the story of a deaf warrior.