Chapter 9
Many weeks passed, and Mouse grew stronger and sleeker with each passing day. However, he was still as thin as a stick. After all, there wasn't much food to find in the dead of leaf-bare.
It snowed one day. It was a soft snow, the kind that floated down in large soft flakes and covered Twolegplace like a giant white blanket. It wasn't as cold as before. Stone poked his nose out of the cardboard box and tested the air. The breeze smelled crisp and fresh, like the dew in the morning. He glanced down at the sleeping kit curled in the farthest corner of the box. The kit's bony ribs stood out with each breath he took, and he winced. Stone looked away and stepped outside. The snow surrounded his legs like water and flowed away with every step he took. He looked around.
The skeletal trees clawed at the sky, their skinny fingers reaching up like jagged teeth. A small cardinal was perched on one of its branches. Monsters were scurrying up and down the black Thunderpath, their breath making large gray puffs in the dry air. Stone looked over to the place where Bob usually sat. He wasn't there. That wasn't unusual, though; the hobo liked to wander around, and he would always come back.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something lying half buried in the snow. A familiar smell trickled up to his nose, and his mouth watered. It was food! Eagerly, he bounded toward it and immediately gulped it down. It was a half-eaten sandwich that was nothing but mold and ice, but he ate it anyway. In the back of his mind, he remembered the kit, all skin and bones, lying far back into the cardboard box. He shrugged the thought away. When he was done, he sat back and licked his chops. He was still hungry, but it wasn't as bad as before. He nosed around for anymore scraps, and finding none, he turned and dejectedly trudged back home. The cat suddenly stopped and looked up at the sky. It was blotted with thick gray clouds, and the white flakes floated down gently like soft petals. The sky had been that color for weeks. I miss the sun, Stone thought. A monster roared past him and splashed his fur with brown melted slush. He yowled and backed away. The melted snow sunk deep into his fur and dampened it. Instantly, he felt chilled to the bone. He tried to lick it off, but the muddy taste clung to his tongue and made him gag.
He felt his old anger bottled up inside him. It was about to burst. Red mist swirled around his eyes and he clenched his teeth.
As he trudged home, the angry red color shrouded his thoughts and churned inside him. It's not fair, he thought. It's not fair. It's not fair. I hate this place. I hate everything about it. I hate it that I have to take care of that stupid kit. I hate that I have to eat scraps every day, I hate that I look so thin, I hate the monsters, the Twolegs, the snow, the clouds, the gray skies. I don't deserve this life. He abruptly stopped walking. Or do I? He whined and scratched at his muzzle in frustration, his claws leaving crimson lines behind, as red as the anger bubbling inside him. He remembered the guilt he felt when he first left the forest, and he had carried it for every day of his life. The old anger grew. It simmered and seethed in him, and bubbled and threatened to explode. He growled deep in his throat. He didn't deserve this life!
"…Stone?" a voice asked tentatively.
Stone whirled around. In front of him stood Mouse, his paws scuffling awkwardly in the snow and his deep blue eyes looked up at him cautiously. "Are…you okay?" he asked. Stone hissed. "Of course I'm not okay, you stupid brat!" He yowled in rage and lunged at the kit. Mouse let out a startled yelp and dodged out of the way. His eyes were open wide in surprise. Stone's amber eyes glittered and narrowed into slits. This kit…this stupid, annoying kit. His claws itched, and in the blind fury of his anger, he pounced again. This time, he landed on his target, and he raked his claws across the kit's thin pelt. Mouse let out a shriek of pain and tried to squirm free, but the older tom pinned him down like a butterfly. Blood blossomed beneath his paws like crimson petals, and the dark gray tom stared with bitter satisfaction.
Why was he even taking care of this dumb kit? Why didn't he just leave him out in the snow to die? The fury coursed through his veins and took over his senses. Kill, kill, kill, his mind screamed. He wanted to take his anger out on someone. He sank his claws deep into the flesh while the kit writhed and howled in agony. Blood ran in streams and pooled around the soft snow. It had been so long since he last saw blood, and he cherished it. He raised his paw and whacked it into Mouse's side, causing the kit to gasp. He tried to stand up, but the older tom held him down. He meowed, "Stone! What are you doing?"
Stone gazed down at his blood soaked paws. Droplets scattered around the snow, painting the white canvas with scarlet. He grinned. It had been such a long time since he had fought in a battle, and now he craved blood. He slowly started to stalk towards Mouse. The kit let out a frightened whimper and crouched down. Then, suddenly, he bolted. The kit ran across the street and skidded around the corner, droplets of crimson spraying everywhere. Stone took off after him. Kill, kill, kill…
