Welcome to the next chapter! I hope you all are enjoy the story so far, and I hope those reading this after the original version are enjoying it too! Just a warning for those who are reading from the last version, since my writing style has changed, Cat's POV is third person. I find that I write better this way, though I know much of the humor originated from Cat's narration. I'm also making Cat less of a cold-hearted killer, simply a wannabe serial killer.
-Tragedy
also, DappledleafTheBootiful, I am in fact accepting OCs. I would love to incorporate other people's characters into this story!
Run.
Run away from all this.
Run, and you will forget everything.
Those were the first words he could remember. Who said them exactly, though, he would probably never know. He suspected his mother. She was the only cat he was ever close to, though his lack of memory of her clouded his opinions. Only the rumors of a mother's love shaped the image of his. He could only wonder why she told him to run, why she told him to forget. Surely his life would've been easier and much more enjoyable knowing who his mother was?
The sky was bright that day, the sun shining on his black fur and giving it a sharp red tint. Funny, how it reminded him of blood. How the smell, that sweet bitter tang, of blood ran through his mind. Maybe that's why he had to leave his mother. She was ashamed of her son who fantasized about blood. Who wouldn't be?
He often thought of killing. Rarely he had the chance, though. The thought of sinking his claws and teeth into cat flesh made his mind spin. Sure catching prey was necessary for survival, but killing...murder...that would be fun. He supposed it was odd to be thinking about such a crime. Especially for a cat barely over ten moons. Still innocent, not even having experienced a full four seasons. Most cats he encountered tried to persuade him off the dark path he followed, but his thoughts always wandered back to death.
Now, they tried to force him to leave. It made sense for them to worry, the last thing any cat wants is for an innocent house cat to end up dead and twolegs causing a ruckus in their mostly peaceful community. Everyone knew how meddlesome twolegs could be, especially for a rogue trying to avoid capture. But he refused to leave. Not until they lost their strong smell of fear.
He'd become quite addicted to it, fear. It cleared his head for some strange reason. He doubted he'd ever figure out why his brain made him feel this way.
Now, the cats didn't talk to him. They didn't have the courage to. He had changed too much for their comfort. Sharper claws, taller stance, and brighter, deadlier, eyes. He liked his new transition. It made him seem stronger, much more...dangerous.
Run.
Run away from all this.
Run, and you will forget...
Oh, why did mother have to cast him out? Why send him away instead of nurturing him into a better life? What happened to him as a kit to fascinate him with the smell of death and fear? Why must he be tormented by these words?
The seemingly blood-stained fur caught his eyes again. He loved how the sun shone, marking him with what he found most interesting. It was a well of inspiration. He closed his eyes, letting his imagination carry him. Cats' blood splashing on concrete. Guts falling from surprised victims. Fear scent filling his nostrils and giving him a sort of peace he couldn't achieve without it. He loved the thought of seeing the light fade from their eyes, struggling to stay alive. Their limbs and blood decorating the streets would be his masterpiece. A reminder that he was a force to be reckoned with. It would be so wonderful to just feel that warm, sticky blood between his claws. Such a gruesome act made him drool.
"Cat!"
He was so lost in his mind he almost didn't hear it. The taste of their flesh. His teeth sinking into their bones. It was wonderful indeed.
"Cat!"
But he was ripped from his fantasies. It was only a whisper of a voice, from where he was, but he recognized it immediately. His eyes narrowed, wondering what this particular she-cat could possibly be calling him for. She must be impossibly desperate.
"Cat!"
He weighed his options. He could go see what all the ruckus was about, or he could stay right where he was. Perched on a thick bricked fence in the heat of the sun, bathing his fur in light and imagining his deathly glorious fantasies. If he stayed where he was, she might just die and leave him alone. But, he would be truly alone then. No cat to talk to, except for the occasional forced conversations he put upon other cats so he could stand his loneliness.
He sighed, and got up from his comfortable position as she called for him again. Jumping down from his perch and walking down the streets, his claws started tingling. He liked this feeling. The feeling when he so desperately wanted to kill. Maybe he'll be able to live his fantasies this time.
Soon, after slowly trotting toward the howls that called him, he picked up her scent. Blood and roses, such a deadly aroma for someone like her. Though, she was his sister. Perhaps his fascination with death had rubbed off on her. He scoffed, not likely. Not at all.
He turned a corner, into a large alleyway, and saw her, bloody and gasping. Two toms stood over her, growling and hissing.
"Cat!"
She smiled and used too much effort to alert the toms to his presence. Her head lolled back and she fell unconscious. He narrowed his eyes, without her consciously fighting to live she could die. This would be over quickly.
"What are you doing here?" One of the toms, a ginger tabby, spat, "Can't you see we're busy?"
Cat tapped his claws on the pavement, "Oh, I see. I'm just wondering how best to kill you." He smiled.
The other tom, white with dark gray stripes down his flank and tail, turned away from his victim, "News flash, buddy, we're older and more experienced. What makes you think you can kill us?"
Truthfully, he didn't know. But that wouldn't stop him from making them so afraid that they would run tail between their legs. That's what worked every time before, and that's what would work now. Hopefully. But Cat continued to tap his claws against the pavement, conjuring a tune in his head. He walked forward, humming softly. The toms crouched in a battle-ready stance, but Cat could sense their uneasiness. They would hesitate, and he would reign victorious.
"News flash, mousebrains, I'm a killer."
And he pounced. His claws looked like daggers, making the toms hesitate just like Cat foresaw. He landed on the ginger tom's back, and tried to scratch the other's eyes. He was shaken off quickly as Ginger regained himself. Cat was flung against a wall, but landed on his paws. He lunged again, aiming for White this time. His opponent quickly dipped underneath him as he lunged and kicked him to the ground. Cat groaned, thinking that maybe he wasn't all that battle ready.
One look at Joann was all he needed to put himself back in his normal mindset. How could he think so poorly of himself. He was the demon of the twoleg place. Nothing would stand in his way.
Ginger growled and raised his paws. Cat bared his fangs and gnawed down on his attackers paws. His teeth sank into Ginger's paw-pads, and the tom yowled in anger. He vainly took a precious moment to carefully lick at the delicate skin, giving Cat an opportunity to give a killing blow.
Then White struck down, forcing Cat to the ground. Jaws clamped down on his back, and he was flung away. Scratches marked his skin as he skidded across the hard ground, but he shook off his injuries and hissed as ferociously as he could.
"Snowshadow, my paw is ruined!" Ginger mewled, "I need to go see Cloudbreeze."
Snowshadow, that was apparently White's name, turned and growled, "We're in the middle of a fight! Surely your precious paw can wait a few heartbeats."
Ginger rolled his eyes, and sat delicately holding out his injured paw, "It's my pads, Snowshadow. He bit my paw pads. I can't walk on all four paws now, and he's already scratched up my back!"
"Firestone," Snowshadow sighed, "you are going to die one day, and I'm not going to mourn you." He turned to growl at Cat once more. "You're dead next time, snake-heart."
The walked away, Firestone on three paws, back down the alley. Cat looked after them incredulously. Such a strange encounter. He was sad he didn't get to kill one of them, but he had other things to worry about.
His sister was fighting to stay conscious, her eyes were fluttering open and closed. Cat grabbed her scruff, glad that he was at least strong enough to carry a cat slightly heavier than him. His sister was one to get food from the twolegs generous enough to give. Cat preferred catching his food, and that fact was obvious when the siblings stood side by side.
He carried her to the river, a trail of blood steadily streaming out of her wounds. He walked a bit faster than he would have, it would be tragic to make an effort to save his sister and have her die on the way to their destination.
Cat dragged her to his 'home', an abandoned fox den by a small river. Once close enough to the river, he threw her body as best he could into the slowly moving water. He would help her, but it wouldn't be fun unless she was panicked and yowling.
"Great Stars Cat! I'm injured and you're probably making it worse!" She raced out onto dry land and shook herself of the water, also spraying drops of blood. Some of her blood landed on his pelt, and he drank in the smell, the feeling, of his fur touching blood. He stood dazed for multiple heartbeats until his sister brought him back from the void of his mind, "Are you going to help me or not?"
"Joann, I'm wondering why I didn't just let you die." Cat walked away towards a small abandoned fox den. He emerged clutching a pawful of cobwebs, and placed them carefully on Joann's wounds. She hissed at the stinging sensation, but calmed again once the pain was bearable, "I've been through more battles and suffered a lot more injuries than you have. I've had to heal myself somehow."
As he placed the cobwebs, he sometimes found himself staring at the blood longer than he should have. He kept getting entranced by the scent of it. The small remnants of Joann's fear scent. The blood stained cobwebs. It was all so...enticing.
Soon everything was all patched up, and Joann walked back toward her own home. Cat was alone once again. It wasn't anything different than usual, but for some reason he felt...emptier than he normally did. He lay down with a sigh, a dipped one paw into the river water. He traced a pattern with his claws, humming the same tune from when he rescued Joann. After countless moments, the sun set. He had eventually stopped humming, but Cat was still moving his claw in the water. The repeated movement, and the growing darkness, lulled him to sleep.
A bright light forced him to open his eyes. He was in a forest, definitely not the plains where he had gone to sleep. Alarm made him jump to his paws and unsheathe his claws, then crouch down to a fighting stance.
The time has come for fate to be undone.
A voice. To his left. No! The right.
The time has come...
Wait, it was all around him. A whisper, but it seemed to shake the ground beneath him.
The angel is arriving on his wings of black death.
What...what was this? This was not normal.
The demon is arriving with his claws of dark steel.
Dread suddenly filled him to the core. Streams of blood rained down from pure white clouds above him. It didn't take long for Cat to be swept away in the flood.
Fight until the last breath.
Everything stopped. Cat took a deep breath, and everything moved backwards at twice the speed it had before. He landed on a cliff, covered in blood that wasn't his own. For once he hated the overwhelming smell. Bile rose up his throat, and he vomited.
The time has come for fate to be undone.
He was suddenly extremely out of breath. He closed his eyes, but not before seeing a cat's ginger paws cross his vision.
"My dear, it appears fate is coming undone indeed."