Well, here goes. I guess I'll try out this whole writing thing. This is either a really good decision or a very bad one. Considering it was made at one A.M., I think we both already know the answer to that.

Anyway, here's chapter one of my first story ever, of which the title is currently completely undecided. You know what really annoys me? Having to choose the title at the beginning of the story. Like, what? Excuse me? Wouldn't it make more sense to choose it after, when you already know how it all ends, and you can just pick a word or two to sum it all up?

Clearly I am going into this with very little plan as to how it's going to turn out. I'm making it up as I go along. Probably not the best way to do things. Eh, whatever.

Now enough of my pointless rambling.

CURRENTLY UNTITLED STORY: CHAPTER ONE

I open my eyes and yawn, blinking away dreams. Again, back to reality.

It's dark out, the sun having just slipped below the horizon. Time to eat. Time to see him. My tail twitches slightly as I sigh. My stomach rumbles, and I know I can't avoid this. As I pull myself to my feet, I get that increasingly common feeling that I've been getting lately. It's hard to describe, but the word miserable just about covers it.

To sum everything up for you: my life has been pathetic. Really, really pathetic.

My ears prick in anticipation as I step out of the shadows of the cardboard box that I call my home. I breathe in the air. It's sour and smells of rotting trash, but what else could be expected, living by a dumpster?

The thought sends me deeper down into the depressed state of mind I've been in for who knows how long. This has been my life since my mother and my sister died.

My mother was killed when I was just a kitten. My sister not even a month after. The only thing I can credit my sister for is not abandoning me after our mom's death, though she was only really around in the most technical sense. Mentally and emotionally, my sister died the moment our mother disappeared in the headlights of that car. She and I ran home after that, and huddled up in the corners of our box. We didn't move for two days, both of us refusing to believe it was true.

For those two days, not a word was exchanged between us. Finally, on the third day, my sister pulled herself up. I remember wondering how. I remember wondering why. But she always was the stronger of the two of us, and I had known that sooner or later she'd gather up the strength to go out and do what she needed to do.

One thing I didn't wonder was where. I didn't have to ask— she had gone to burry our mom. I couldn't bring myself to go with her. When my sister came back, she spoke the last words she ever said to me: "She's gone."

Our mother wasn't there, on the side of the road where we'd left her. Someone, or something, had taken her away. I knew that for my sister, this doubled the pain. Not only had we seen our mom die, we couldn't even give her a proper burial and pay our last respects. My sister was the kind of cat who needed to resolve things. Needed to tie up loose ends. Any part of her that hadn't already been broken was shattered that day.

Another two days passed, my sister and I curled up in opposite ends of the box. But once again, my sister was the stronger cat, and she got up and left. Hours later, she returned with two small mice hanging from her jaws. She gave me the smaller one.

For almost a month after that, that was my life. My sister hunted and kept us both alive. I never strayed far from our box.

And then my sister fell ill.

She grew weaker with every passing day, but still hunted, was still strong. Then, one day as she was leaving the box, she looked me in the eye. Green eyes met green, and with that look, I knew. She wasn't coming back. She didn't have much time left, and she wanted to spare me from having to witness her death, too. She left, each step weaker and shakier than the last. I didn't stop her. As she slipped out of sight for the last time, I whispered a faint, final goodbye.

For a while, I slept through the loss, as if that would erase the fact that it had ever happened. But sooner or later, I knew I'd have to eat. Unfortunately, it happened to be sooner. Even more unfortunately, I could not hunt, and had no way of getting food.

Now, I had never been the smarter sister any more than I'd been the stronger one. But even I could figure out that I needed help. I couldn't do this alone. So the next day, I forced myself up and out into the world.

I didn't know who I was looking for. My mother and sister were the only cats I had ever known, and now they were gone. I had no one else to turn to, but I didn't have anything to loose, either. At least I could try. I had to try.

The cardboard box where I lived was on the outskirts of a city, in a part of town that was almost entirely abandoned. I had two options: to head deeper into the city, and hope to find someone to help me there, or hope to find anyone at all going the opposite way, out to the countryside.

Mostly, I walked along the city border for a while. I knew I'd probably have better luck in the city, since there'd actually be other cats there, and though I wasn't entirely confident that they'd help me, I figured I might not find anyone at all in the country. But understandably enough, I wasn't all that willing to go into a place full of the very thing that had killed my mother and destroyed my sister.

I spent the day wandering aimlessly, and had no luck. Finally, at dusk, as I was heading back, I stopped at a creek south of my home to get a drink. There was a very small, narrow section of the creek that came up near my box, but this section was quite a bit farther downstream and much wider. The water here was so much clearer and fresher, and I didn't think I'd ever tasted anything so refreshing.

As I was greedily slurping up mouthfuls of water, I heard a voice behind me say, "Wow. It's like you've never tasted water before."

I gasped and spun around, my gaze falling onto a thin orange tabby cat, who looked to be about my own age. He was perched contentedly on a rock, eyeing me curiously with piercing golden eyes, his head tilted slightly. He was quite attractive, really, and as I stood there, mouth dripping, I found myself at a loss for words.

"Uh…" I muttered nervously. "I… I'm, um…"

"I'm Toby," He said, whiskers twitching with amusement.

"Rain," I finally forced out, my voice sounding dry and rough despite the enormous quantity of water I'd just consumed.

"Hmm?" He mused, glancing up toward the sky. "Yeah, it does look a bit stormy. Now, what do they call you, back wherever you're from?"

At his words, I glanced up to the sky as well, and saw that yes, there were dark clouds floating along above the treetops that hadn't been there before. I looked down, and back at him.

"No… no, my name. My name is Rain," I mumbled awkwardly, partially since he was the first cat I'd ever met other than my mother and sister, and partially because it had been months since I'd spoken to anyone at all, and I was a bit out of practice.

"Oh." He said simply. He looked me up and down, and grinned. "It suits you," he said.

For the first time in my life, I felt self-conscious about my appearance. It was a strange feeling, and not very pleasant. I had thick blue-gray fur, long legs, and piercing leaf-green eyes, and I had always thought I looked alright, not that it had never mattered. Now, though, I realized that I must be quite thin from malnutrition, not to mention the water dripping from my muzzle. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I just glanced down at my paws. I resisted the urged to bring them up to swipe the water from my jaw.

He chuckled warmly. "You look hungry. Want to come back to my place for some food?"

I looked up at that, eyes shining eagerly. He laughed. "I'll take that as a yes. Come on."

I followed him back to his house, and was half pleasantly surprised and half annoyed to see that it was much nearer to my home than I would have guessed, just in the opposite direction I had been traveling all day. He led me up onto the porch and over to a dish of cat food that looked untouched.

"Here. You can have it, I'm not very hungry," He offered.

"Are you sure?" I whispered scratchily.

He grinned. "You need it more than I do."
I dug in. I had never tried cat food before, only heard about it from my mother. I was used to eating things like mice and squirrels, which I would have preferred to this, but although it was dry and odd in texture, the cat food was more than welcome after such a long day of travel.

"Thank you so much," I breathed after I had finished eating. "I needed that."

"I could see that," he laughed. "And no problem, I'm glad to help."

There was a moment of silence.

"Hey," he said. "It's getting kind of late, if you want to stay here tonight that would be perfectly fine."

"No, I can't… thank you, though," I said quickly.

"Are you sure? It looks like it's going to storm soon, and I don't want you to have to walk home in the rain."

As if on cue, sheets of rain began rapidly descending from the clouds above.

"That settles it. You're staying."

"But…"

"Rain, you're not going anywhere."

I melted at his use of my name. It had been so long since anyone called me by it. "Well, okay," I murmured. "If you insist."

He smiled. "Come on, you can sleep over here." He led me over to a wooden crate at the other side of the porch, with some fluffy, well-worn blankets tucked neatly inside. "This is normally where I sleep, but I'll just take the swing for tonight, I think." He nodded towards a porch swing to his right.

"No, I don't want to take your bed," I protested.

"Rain, it's fine. Just go to sleep. You look exhausted."

"I…"

"Shh." He nudged me into the crate, and I shied away from his touch. Reluctantly I settled down into the blankets, and snuggled down into them. It was the most comfortable thing I'd ever experienced.

"Thanks, Toby," I whispered, not sure whether he could hear me from his perch on the swing.

"You're welcome, Rain," He murmured back.

And that was the beginning of my first friendship, and also my first crush. Since then, I visited Toby every day, and he would share his food with me. Sometimes, when I was particularly tired and didn't feel like taking the short walk back, I would spend the night. Since meeting him, I'd been happiest I'd been since the death of my mother.

But I knew this was wrong. I knew that this couldn't last. I knew that sooner or later, I'd have to learn to hunt and fend for myself, and I'd have to stop visiting Toby. We were both growing older and getting bigger, and I couldn't keep taking his food from him. He needed it. And I needed to move on. My time with my mother had ended. My time with my sister had ended. My time with Toby would end, too. By pretending it wouldn't, I was just deluding myself.

The truth was this: Toby gave me the only glimmers of happiness I had in my otherwise miserable life. He made me feel like I was safe, like I belonged somewhere. But I could never have a future with him. I just… something would happen. Sooner or later, something would happen. And he wouldn't be there anymore. And it was foolish of me to depend on him so much, when it was inevitable that this would end someday, and I would be left alone again. And upon realizing all of this, I stopped letting myself be happy around him. I was back to square one. I was back to being miserable.

So... yeah. That's pretty much my entire life story. Now it should be clear why I think my life is so pathetic. And that's why now, heading to Toby's house like I do every evening, I feel as miserable as ever.

As the silhouette of his house comes into view, my heart speeds up a bit. I push down any happiness I want to feel. This is stupid. I need to stop depending on Toby so much, for food, for happiness, for everything. This needs to end.

I grow nearer, and as always, I see him curled up on the porch steps waiting for me. He grins when he sees me, like he always does, but something's off. His eyes, normally a bright, shining golden, like two little suns, are dull and sad. The smile looks forced.

"Rain," he says. His voice is quiet and he says my name desperately, like it's some last thread of hope he's hanging on to.

"Toby, what's wrong?" I ask, breaking into a run and closing the last bit of distance between us.

"Rain, I… My humans. They're…" He sighs. His sad eyes meet mine, and my heart falls. I know what's coming. "We're leaving, Rain. I don't know where we're going… I don't know if we're coming back. But my humans have been packing up everything: their clothes, food, everything. They've packed up all of my stuff, too."

I glance over to his crate and see that the soft, fluffy blankets that usually line the bottom are gone. It makes me feel more sad than I've ever felt in my life to see them gone. It's true. He's leaving me.

I knew this would happen. I knew this wouldn't last. I knew I had to shut myself off from him, but I wasn't able to do it quick enough. The fact that my heart is breaking again proves that I was right, that anyone I could ever love will leave me sooner or later, but I don't feel victorious over being right. I just feel crushed.

"You can't go," I choke out. "You just can't"

"I'm so sorry, Rain. I don't want to leave you. But I don't have any choice."

"Come with me," I say. It's desperate. It goes against everything I've been trying to do, shutting myself off from him. But I don't care.

"I can't, Rain. I thought of that, and I would do it. But I really can't. I used to run away a lot when I was younger. Just for days at a time, and I always came back, but my humans didn't like it. Eventually they got fed up with it and they took me to the vet. They knocked me out, and I don't know what they did after that, but since then when I run away they're always able to find me right away. I wouldn't make it a mile before they came and got me. Rain... I'm sorry."

I don't know what to say. I just stare into his sad eyes and he stares back and I think about how much I'm going to miss him and how I don't know what I'll do without him.

"Rain, can you stay the night with me? Since this might be the last time—"
"Yes," I cut him off. I can't let him say it. I can't stand hearing it. I head over and curl up in the crate, and for the first time, instead of heading to the swing, he comes and curls up next to me. I snuggle into his fur and he rests his head on my own.

I close my eyes, and I wonder if I'll ever be happy.

And... yeah. That's the first chapter of my story. Very cheerful and uplifting, I know. If you think I should continue please review and say so, because as of right now, I'm really not sure whether to continue this or not. Also, if you have any questions or suggestions just go ahead and say so, and I'll do my best to take those into consideration. Oh, and proofreading. I'm not always the best at that, so if you notice anything wrong with my spelling or grammar, tell me, and I'll get that fixed as soon as I can.

Uh, that's all, I guess. Thanks for reading!