Chapter Two
She woke up the next morning, cold and hungry, but alive. The gray she-cat shook the sleep from her mind, gazing at the others bleary-eyed. The ginger tom was the only other one awake.
"You have to stop," he commanded as soon as he met her gaze.
She was taken aback. "Wh-what?" she stammered. "What am I doing wrong?" Her tail drooped. "If it's about yesterday's hunting, I'm sorry, but I – "
The ginger tom shook his head irritably. "No," he snapped. "I'm talking about the way you act about our . . . predicament. The others . . . " He dropped his voice. "You're worrying them."
"What are you talking about?" The gray she-cat wrinkled her nose at him. "Someone's been dreaming too much for his own good."
The ginger tom's eyes narrowed. "Just – be careful, will you," he spat. "I – we don't want to lose you." Pushing his way past her, he vanished into the misty morning.
She stared after him. Was that . . . ? She shook away the thought; there was no way he meant it that way. She purred at herself, amused by the idea that she would ever have such a thought.
There was no way he could love her.
Right?
Finally the others woke up, weak and exhausted. The gray she-cat knew that unless they found good food soon, they would all starve quickly. She made up her mind to go hunting, to see if she could find something . . . anything. Besides, the ginger tom hadn't come back yet; someone had to make sure he was alright.
She set off across the land, avoiding rocky clefts that could twist a paw and the places with loose stones that could collapse underpaw. All five of them had learned where it was safe to walk and where they should avoid; with time comes knowledge.
And they'd been stuck there for at least seven years.
The prey had never run out before; somehow there had always been a steady supply, despite the desolate location of their so-called "home." It had never snowed, either, until the day before yesterday. Everything was changing, and they didn't know why. It was like someone was toying with them, messing with their senses, their emotions, and even their lives.
But that was ridiculous. She kept walking over the cold stone.
After a long, grueling search for something — anything — to eat, the gray she-cat returned to the others, feeling defeated. The three cats there had finally dragged themselves awake, although with a glance she knew that they wouldn't last much longer.
It was a horrible thought, and she shook it away as quickly as she could. "Nothing," she murmured apologetically. "There's no prey left out there."
The brown tom uttered a harsh curse, digging his claws into the ground. "So that's it, then?" he spat. "This is how we die - weak, hungry, and alone?" He let out a long, angry yowl. "I didn't survive this long to end like this!" His fury seemed to shake the very roots of their existence.
No one had a calming reply for him. Trembling, the gray she-cat turned tail on the angry cat and fled.
A hidden gaze continued to dwell among the darkness, shrouded and secretive.
Another failure. She shook her head regretfully, closing her mismatched eyes. When will they learn that the fate of the world lies in their paws? She made a decision that shocked even her. I will go into their midst, and tell the First Subject what needs to happen for the group to survive. Otherwise, they will never make it out of their prison alive.