Pattering on the cold hard stone, the rain soaked the cats gathered in the alleyway. Yet none dared to seek shelter underneath the old rusting dumpster. For watching them from within the close confines of the makeshift den, two ice blue eyes studied them. Wind blowing through his thick, ebony fur, the tom adjusted his collar. As fearsome as it made him look, the rattling that the hollow claws and fang trophies hanging lifelessly from the tattered band made in the echoing wind along with the constant, slight scatching of them against his throat, irritated the tom from time to time, forcing him to readjust the beaten, purple leather.
Claws scraping against the cold, hard floor, the tom itched for something to happen. A challenge. Someone to contest his will and challenge him to combat. But he knew they wouldn't. Not after that example he had made of that forest cat. Smirking he could still picture the tom's arrogant sneer turn to sheer terror as he slit his throat. It had taken ice in his veins to allow Scourge to kill that cat. Even though it should have melted, the ice instead grew colder and colder, chilling his heart and making him more and more distant from his victims. And Scourge welcomed it.
Closing his eyes, the night black tom forced himself to relive the memory. He saw it. The forest. The tabby warrior clawing savagely at the defenceless kit while his mentor jeered him on. Only through the intervention of a blue grey she cat pitying the kit, had he survived.
" That was then, this is now," thought Scourge darkly, "I'll show them. I'm not small! I'm not weak! I am the scourge on the name of all cats and I will have my revenge!"
Glancing down, he snapped an old hike bone under his paw. Throughly enjoying the satisfying snap, he pictured a certain dark brown tabby lying dead underneath his paws. For now though he was simply cone t to just sit and watch everyone and everything that transpired around him.
Always watching.
