So, Stone's age is 6 years, but I changed my mind and decided to make it 4 years. I also randomly decided to start naming the chapters. And…sorry if this chapter wasn't as good. Yah.
CHAPTER 13-Warming
Stone awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside. He suddenly let out a sharp intake of breath when he realized how cold it was. There were literally icicles hanging from his whiskers. He sneezed and rubbed his stuffy nose with a stiff paw, and heaved himself up to gaze outside.
The whole world was painted pure white. Snow glittered like stars, and the trees were coated thickly with it. The Twoleg dens glistened with frosty blue ice. There was not a single mark on this gray world, not a blemish or dent. Stone would have enjoyed the scene if he weren't so cold.
He could see his breath in the dry air, and he shivered. He huddled up against the sleeping form of Mouse to share his body heat. The cat pressed his back next to the kit, and he stared up at the ceiling of the box. His mind turned over the events that happened yesterday.
After all those years, he had finally ventured into the forest again. Nothing much had changed; it looked almost exactly the same as it had on that fateful day. And Cinderheart…
Cinderheart.
He shuddered and quickly closed his eyes. He didn't want to remember. The memories pounded in his brain until he felt like he would explode.
Mouse pressed closer against his side and mewed, "Cold."
Stone glanced at the dozing kit, all skin and bones, no bigger than a rodent and more unsightly. Without thinking, he leaned down and began to lap at the kit's tangled fur. Mouse murmured in his sleep, but lay still.
Stone continued to groom him, unfurling the burrs and knots and smoothing it down until it was almost sleek. There, he thought.
He stood up and padded slowly outside. Time to look for food. The tom wandered his eyes around the snow covered streets, and his hopes fell. If I can actually find anything.
He took one step, and nearly drowned in the snow. It was so deep. He was literally swimming in the sparkling white, the snow reaching to his neck. He floundered around awkwardly and managed to pull himself onto the bank of a sidewalk.
He sniffed the air. It smelled familiar, and he recognized that this was the corner where Bob usually sat. The hobo was missing, just like he had been the last two days.
Stone felt a pang of worry slowly seep into his heart, but he shrugged it away. In all the eight months that he knew him, he knew that the hobo had a tendency to wander around for some days and then come back.
He ambled around, his nose sniffing the air to catch a whiff of food. His stomach felt as thin as a piece of paper billowing in the wind, and he winced.
A small breeze journeyed through the air, and even though it was just a light touch, it was cold enough to make him recoil. He fluffed his fur up, but that didn't do any good against the harsh weather.
He meandered around the streets for a few more moments and managed to find the carcasses of some scrawny rats that had died of the cold. He wolfed two of them down and saved the last for Mouse.
He set it down in front of the still sleeping kit and curled up next to him. Mouse was shivering, so he wrapped his tail around the small form and held him closely. He looked up at the pale gray sky. The clouds were grey, the sidewalks were grey, the monsters, the trees, even the Twolegs. He longed for a different color, to see a speck of ember melt all the greyness away.
His ears perked up when he saw a Twoleg, hunched up and shivering in dirty threadbare rags, amble across the streets and collapse onto the corner. The tom immmediatley bolted out of the box and skidded to a halt in front of him.
Bob? The cat peered up at the old withered face, and blinked in surprise when the pale blue eyes that he was used to appeared so hollow and blank.
"Mrrow?" he asked. The Twoleg looked up and blinked in surprise. His weathered face looked confused for a moment, as if trying to remember something. "A cat," he said softly, to nobody in particular.
Stone placed a paw on Bob's leg and peered into those dead eyes. He saw himself reflected in the milky gray depths.
"Meow," he insisted. What was wrong with Bob? Couldn't he remember who he was?
The Twoleg closed his eyes and sighed heavily, and then turned over onto his side. A cold wind blew, and he trembled. Stone could see the thin frost settle itself into the cracks and folds of the dirty rags, and he understood that the hobo was freezing.
The cat took a few cautious steps closer, and when nothing happened, he gently eased himself under Bob's arm and buried himself against the clothing, warming them both with his body heat. It was still deathly cold, and he suppressed a shiver. Bob didn't react.
The tom looked up at the old face, and he saw that the hobo had fallen asleep. His breath was ragged and harsh, and he coughed.
The tom shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't used to being this close to a Twoleg. But if Bob needed him, then he would just have to endure it.
Under the crook of the heavy arm, Stone looked up at the dull gray sky. The two of them sat there, warming eachother through the cold leafbare morning.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOooOoOoO
Mouse's eyes flickered open, and the first thing he saw was the dead rat. He quickly gulped it down.
He licked one paw and groomed himself, and wondered where Stone could have gone.
The kit peered outside into the gray world and spotted something that caught his attention. On a corner of the street, a straggly mound was snoring away, and he immediately recognized it as Bob. Bob was back!
The tiny kit scurried out of the box. He dodged the Twoleg feet that hurried to and fro and dashed up to the dirty heap.
The hobo's eyes were closed, and his breathing was harsh and ragged. Mouse mewed quietly and cautiously stepped closer.
Under an arm, something moved. A shape squirmed and wriggled underneath the torn cloth, and a head popped up.
Mouse blinked in surprise. "Stone?"
The older tom looked shocked as well, and Stone flattened his ears and shrugged. He muttered, "Uh, ah, he looked cold, so…"
Mouse felt the frosty air shift on his pelt, and his teeth chattered. He shifted his paws uncomfortably and wondered if it was safe for him to snuggle up against the rogue. His paper-thin fur wasn't able to warm him up for long and he could feel the temperature dropping.
Stone flicked his ears. The rogue looked away, and he muttered something quietly. Mouse had to strain his ears to hear the words.
"Um…since Bob's so cold, we'll need to warm him up as much as possible, so…" he cleared his throat awkwardly.
Mouse's eyes grew wide and they glittered. Without any more hesitation, he dove into the rank clothes of the Twoleg and buried himself next to Stone, their pelts almost touching. The older tom let out a startled mew.
Bob shifted, but didn't wake up.
Together, they huddled next to the hobo and kept themselves warm against the freezing weather.
Stone blinked his amber eyes, and he thought, I've never been this warm before…
The faintly glowing ember pulsed slightly against his chest. For a moment, he was compelled to let it nestle against his fur like it had back in the nursery when he was young. For a few heartbeats, he was a kitten, back in the warm den, moss tickling his nose and his brother snuggled warm and safely next to him. And his mother was there, and a father. A warm face with crystal eyes staring fondly down at him…
The pulsing ember grew and glowed, the ray of light starting to flow again, bringing back memories, so painful memories… but he managed to snap out of the trance.
His flint-chipped eyes hardened. What am I doing, he thought. Here, the mighty Stoneclaw in all his glory, cuddling next to a Twoleg and a rat like some poor lost kittypet.
But he blinked again, and he remembered. He wasn't the great and mighty Stoneclaw anymore, and no, this wasn't the nursery.
This was Twolegplace, the grey city of vice and corruption, where mangy coyotes wandered the streets and monsters reeking of crowfood splashed brown water onto your fur.
This definitely wasn't the nursery. He heaved himself up to his paws, and despite the cold shriek of the icy wind, he forced himself to wiggle out of the clothes. The wind buffeted his fur.
He looked down at Mouse, who was already dozing peacefully away. The kit spent a lot of time sleeping, he realized. What for? Why?
Perhaps the kit found refuge in his dreams, where he could dream about a mother and a father and a sister all together in a snug little den in a life that was meant to be, with more mice than he could chew.
Stone padded gently away. There's no safety in my dreams, he thought, placing a paw lightly in front of him. They're just filled with stone-cold memories and dandelion fluff. He stopped walking and looked up at the clouded skies. They don't do anything except to remind me that I'm somewhere far from home.
He paused in front of the cardboard box. It had collapsed and water was leaking out of the blotched brown mess. He sighed and curled himself onto the damp paper and quietly watched the metal-clad monsters roar by.