Notes: I was a bit depressed when I wrote this one. Just a warning, because I'm sure it shows.

The mewling box was wedged under a spindly, dry shrub. Soggy and broken from the rain it mewed only quietly, as if its occupants were crying because they'd lost all hope and not in desperation of being found. Shilo picked it up without looking inside and took it home, carrying the box as carefully as she could.

She didn't expect the occupants to be alive by the end of her twenty minute walk, but through some miracle two pairs of eyes stared out at her when she opened the box. One pair was still bright and blue, the other was glassy. Her heart broke a little as she picked up the healthier kitten, resigned to watching the other one die like its siblings already had. Shilo took the bright-eyed kitten away and upstairs, leaving the box and the dead kittens downstairs. She didn't have the heart to get rid of them straight away.

-

The door swung open, a gleam of silver flashed about his fingers and disappeared into a pocket. The Graverobber stepped into the house as if he owned it; Keys did indeed make the whole breaking in thing a lot easier.
The house was quiet, something he didn't consider in the least bit unusual. The decaying cardboard box on the table though, that was a bit unusual. Graverobber peered inside, his nose wrinkling a little. "Interesting choice of groceries..." He picked up one of the kittens, examining the limp little body before tossing it back into the box. "Kid, you are so weird."

Graverobber abandoned the box to make his way upstairs. Experience had taught him that if Shilo wasn't in the kitchen or parlour, she would be in her bedroom or the bathroom. He liked to catch her at inopportune times, when she was just pulling her panties up in the bathroom or wigless and yet to paint on her eyebrows. The look of mixed horror and annoyance that she gave him made his day.

Alas, when he threw open the door to the bathroom it was to see Shilo fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and cradling something small that was wrapped in a towel. His first and most irrational thought was that she'd given birth - the thing meowed - to a kitten. The thing poked its tiny little nose out, whiskers twitching. Shilo looked up, tired and sad.

Graverobber offered words of comfort.

"Can't find it in you to drown the little rat?"

Shilo glared at him.

"So the box of dead kittens downstairs does belong to you," Graverobber commented, leaning against the wall. "You can't cook things without an oven, princess. But I'm sure we can get a decent fire going in the kitchen sink."

"Shut up," Shilo said quietly, petting the kitten gently. "It's dying."

"Everything dies."

"Kittens shouldn't have to."

Graverobber shook his head. "Kittens, puppies, little baby birds. What difference does it make?" He pushed away from the wall, looming over her and the dying kitten. "Everything dies. A pretty face never saved any lives." He held out a hand, twitching his fingers expectantly.

"It's just a baby," Shilo protested, hugging the kitten close.

Graverobber's expression was suddenly darker. He plucked the kitten from her arms, ignoring her protests, and hurled it across the room. The tiny little body hit the wall with a crack, then fell limply to the tiles, its neck broken. There was no more meowing. Shilo stared at him in horror, as if noticing something terrible for the very first time. "Kittens die," Graverobber repeated. "They shouldn't have to, but they do. It's a fact of life. Snuff it out quick, kid, and at least they don't suffer."

"You..." She had tears in her eyes, threatening to spill. Graverobber sighed and pulled her up. Her hands clutched the lapels of his coat. She burried her face against his chest.

"Kittens die," Graverobber soothed.