AN: This is the…idk, fourth one-shot for the TacoClan challenge? Again, you guys don't know the characters, but you can get the gist of it I think. This is just backstory for one of my dudes anyway.

Dedicated to Shader, who made Spotted interesting for me in the first place. May he and Fiora have a dozen babies together (and only one be kidnapped). :D

33. Look Again

The forest was a terrifying place. That was the only thing he could think as he cowered underneath the bush, listening to the rain lash against the trees. The limbs of his fragile hiding place whipped to and fro in the wild winds, and he nearly leaped out of his pelt as the scene was illuminated by white light, followed by a horrific crash.

He had never seen a storm up close, not like this. Before there had been a thick pane of glass between him and the rain, the wind, the lightning and thunder. Before, there were arms – old and trembling, but arms none the less – to scoop him up and hold him close while he was afraid. He had thought he was brave then, when he dared stand next to the window and watch the heavens roar.

He'd had no idea what bravery was.

His fur was plastered to his sides, exposing his thin frame. His eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of his head with each new rumble. Tremors wracked him furiously, making it hard to even see the raindrops splattering against the mud and foliage.

If there was ever a time he thought he would die, it was then.

"Hey!" came a voice over the wind and wailing of the storm. It sounded like an angel, and at first he thought he was only imagining things, that he had finally snapped and gone mad from the pressure of being a kittypet in the wild.

But it came again, that chipper call, and he saw a hazy figure beginning to take shape. Fear grabbed him as he flashed back to those times in the garden, those moments when the other kittypets – of higher blood than his own, aristocratic cats – would drop by just to tease him mercilessly, and rough him up if there was time. He tried scooting back even farther into the bush, but the sharp branches poked into his pelt, making him whimper.

And then suddenly there was a face right in front of his as the stranger leaped forwards, her green eyes aglow with mischief.

"Hey there!" she chirped, as if the sky wasn't trying to tear itself in two above their heads. "You look frozen half to death, poor thing. Come with me, we'll get you all nice and warmed up!"

He didn't move, and she tapped his muzzle a few times with one white paw. "Come on, I won't bite. But you're going to catch something terrible if you sit out here in the rain. I'll show you around, sweetie."

Sweetie. The word hovered in his mind, but he didn't hear it as he came from her. Her voice was replaced by another, older and thinner and more papery. His fears ebbed away, and slowly he wiggled out from his hiding place. She grinned, and bounced away, leading him further into the forest.

Her den was between the gnarled roots of an old oak, and she stepped to the side to allow him to enter. He curled up in the very back corner of the den, ears flattening as he saw all the water he had tracked in.

"Apologies," he said, his voice a nervous squeak. Her green eyes widened as she came into the den.

"Oh! You're a tom." As soon as the words left her, she seemed embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just because of the rain, and you look so thin, I just assumed…."

His ears flattened. The mistake had occurred several times before, thanks to his delicate build. Usually his feathery fur made him appear at least a bit bigger, but the rain had taken care of that advantage.

"I understand," he meowed, then sneezed. Her eyes glinted with sympathy.

"Well, Mr. Manly Tom, it looks like you've had it rough." She shook herself, sending water splattering over the dusty den. "Sleeping is the best way to pass a storm, in my experience. So go ahead, take a load off." She seemed to note his anxiety, and smiled. "You're safe here, I promise. You can sleep."

Her expression was earnest and kind, and he could find no malice or hidden motives within it. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath and curled up, pressing his soggy nose against his sopping-wet tail, and willed himself to sleep.

. . .

In the morning, it was as though the forest had been transformed. When he awoke, light – brilliant and golden – streamed into the den's entrance. His mysterious benefactor was nowhere to be seen, and so he cautiously approached the entrance. He stared out of the den, noting the bright green leaves and supple bark of the trees round him, before ducking back inside as he saw flickering movement in the undergrowth.

Fear prickled him again, but he relaxed as the familiar "Hey!" greeted him once again.

The she-cat entered her den with a mouse in her jaws, which she presented to him with pride.

"Caught the fat little bugger sitting right next to his hole," she purred. "Mice are just as dazzled by the sights as we are sometimes, I think. I know it's not what you kittypets usually eat, but you'll need your strength if you want to get home again."

He blinked, surprised. "How did you come to the conclusion that I belong to the people?"

Her whiskers twitched. "Your accent, for one thing." Her voice had a teasing note to it, without the menace he was used to. "But it's also pretty hard to find a wild cat that isn't smart enough to take shelter in a real ripper like we had last night. Two and two makes three, you know."

He eyed her, uncertain as to whether or not she was joking, before looking down at the mouse. He'd never had prey like this before – at least not that he could remember – but his stomach was aching terribly. He hadn't eaten for at least two days.

"Many thanks," he meowed, then nosed it towards her. "It is not fair of me to eat your catch, however."

Her whiskers twitched again. "Think I poisoned it, did you?" With that she took a bite of the plump creature, and rolled it back to him. "Go ahead, you can have it. Prey pops up all over the place during newleaf, it's ridiculous. I won't starve."

He hesitated, but the smell wafting from the little creature was too tempting to resist. He ducked his head and took a small bite, then another, before wolfing the mouse down entirely. The she-cat looked on with amusement.

"Better, right?" she purred. "I bet that blows your kittypet food out of the water. But we should hurry if we want to get you home before nightfall. Twolegplace is pretty far away. I'm surprised you got out as far as you did."

"I do not wish to return there," he meowed, ears lowering again. "Twolegplace is no longer my home."

She seemed puzzled. "What happened? Did your Twoleg kick you out?"

He shook his head. "It was nothing like that. She loved me very much, but…I could not stand being there anymore."

She still looked confused, but didn't press further. "Okay. You can stick with me, for now, until you decide what you want to do. I'm Specs, by the way."

It was the strangest name he'd ever heard. "Specs?"

She sighed. "My full name is Speckledown, but I hate it, so I go by Specs."

His eyes traced over her pelt – brown and white patched together – and he noted the darker tabby marks on the earthy splashes. "I quite like Speckledown."

"If you call me that, I'm kicking you out of the den." He had to look up at her face again to make sure she was joking. "What's your name, then, Mr. Manly?"

"Theodore."

"Theodore? Fancy." She frowned. "I bet there's a nickname for that somewhere, though. Don't Twolegs make up those sorts of things for their pets? Did yours call you Theo? Don't tell me she called you Door."

"Teddy." He winced at the name; it sounded childish, weak. He had heard it shouted mockingly more times than he cared to remember. "On occasion my person would call me Teddy."

"Now that is a cute name." Her eyes twinkled. "I am definitely calling you Teddy from now on. I'll even let you call me Speckledown in exchange, so long as you keep that between us."

He felt another tremor of anxiety. "Are there more cats here?"

"Oh, tons. And most of them are jerks." She rolled her eyes. "Rudy thinks he owns the place, the big oaf. Always swaggering around like he's the best thing since catmint. But if you stay out of his way, he won't bother you. He doesn't mess with toms so much." Her eyes darkened at that, but she soon brightened again. "You should just stay away from him and his cronies, okay? But never mind all that. We should go see the forest now! It's always prettiest after a good rain."

His stomach churned. "The forest seems like a frightening place."

"To a kittypet, sure. I mean if you can only see it from within your Twoleg's homes, it seems like another world altogether, doesn't it? You just have to take another look at things. Think of it as a home, instead of the wilderness." She smiled. "I'll show you, come on. We'll make a loner out of you yet."

She led him outside – it would be rude to say no, after all – and paused for a moment, craning her neck back to look up at the sky. He did the same, and was surprised to see how blue it was, untouched by any clouds.

"See?" she asked. "Last night it looked like death itself, but this morning it's all light and pretty. There are far more pretty days out here than death-days. And see the trees?" She flicked her tail towards the oak branches above them. "See how the leaves shine? Last night they looked like the claws of monsters or something, jerking all over the place, but this morning they're tranquil and lovely."

His eyes traced the twisted wood, noting with some amount of awe how many offshoots of one branch there could be, and how each led to more and more and more….He'd never taken the time to study trees before, even in the garden.

"I bet we can find that old bush you were hiding in," she purred, trotting forwards. He trailed after her, unable to recognize anything they had seen the night before. He didn't even notice the bush until she pointed it out. Even in the morning light it seemed bedraggled, and he was puzzled by the delight on her face until he saw two beady black eyes in the shadows.

"Rabbit," she whispered. "Prey needs somewhere to hide too. But don't you see how nice it looks now? How great everything is, all sparkling and clean and nourished and happy? You have to give things a second chance, Teddy. You've got to look again and again and again to see the full picture." She grinned at him, then poked his chest. "First one back to the den is a rotten egg!" she crowed, before turning tail and disappearing into the brush. He was frozen for a moment, hoping she'd come back, imagining her being gobbled up by some fearsome creature, but as the scents of moist earth and new leaves and prey rose in his nose, and as the melodies of birds filled his ears, he felt himself relax. Taking a deep breath, he hurried after her, heading to what would become his home.

. . .

Time passed easily like that, at least for awhile. Speckledowns was the most accommodating hostess he could have ever hoped to find; she was always up bright and early in the mornings to hunt for the two of them, and in time he found himself rising to join her. She was a patient teacher, and had a sharp eye for his mistakes, although she was always careful not to get too under his fur in pointing them out. He had a feeling she had some inkling of the bullying he'd suffered under the paws of cats better than him, and was kinder because of it.

In time, he let his anxieties fall by the wayside. The forest was beautiful, in a stange, still-somewhat-terrifying way, and he felt as though he was becoming a part of it, piece by piece. He recognized the birdsong in the morning, knew the scents of the area around their den as well as he'd known those in his garden, saw the same rabbit under his bush every day. It was a routine that he was comfortable with, and Speckledown's sunny presence made it all the better.

But there were the dark moments, too. Sometimes he'd come across scents he didn't recognize, masculine and strong, and be struck by that old fear again. Sometimes Speckledown would return to their den with ruffled fur and breathlessness, although all she would say was that she had been "fast enough." Sometimes he would hear rustling and crackles in the undergrowth that he knew did not belong to Speckledown's small paws. Sometimes they would find slain prey, some poor creature killed for sport and tossed around before being left like trash, always with those strange tom-scents hanging around.

Speckledown hardly wavered during these moments. It was a part of her own routine, this dodging of Rudy and his crew, and she seemed to think herself entirely capable of standing on her own. And he found that he loved that about her, loved her determination and spirit and kindness, loved how he always had her ears when there was something on his chest, loved how she would always be there when she was needed.

Until one day, she wasn't.

He had decided to sleep in that morning – a decision that would later keep him up night after night – and thus her absence was unnoticed for some time. It wasn't until sunhigh that he was finally ready to get up, and when he did, he was surprised to find that she was not there. He scented the air, but her scent was stale.

Fear should have prickled his pelt then, but it didn't. He'd grown complacent. Relaxed. Soft, not in a kittypet way, but in a the-wilderness-bears-no-real-danger way. The nothing-can-hurt-us-here way. An that was a mistake.

He left the den, feeling curious, and scented the air again just to make sure that she was not near. He thought that she might be playing some sort of trick on him, waiting for him to come looking so that she could ambush him, as she had done before. That was the one time he didn't mind his pelt growing dirty, because it made her eyes glow so brightly to tweak his nose and call him Teddy with the certainty that she had fooled him.

He headed down their usual path, doing his best to look unaware and unprepared. He was, although he didn't know that yet.

He followed her scent for some time, before growing bored.

She is probably only exploring, he told himself. She does enjoy wandering a bit, and I have been holding her back from that with my presence. I believe that she still thinks of me as a kittypet, in some ways. Perhaps she is right. But I have learned much the past few moons, under her tutelage. If she does wish to wander further in this wide forest of hers, I should prove to her that I can come as well. He smiled to himself. I should catch her something special…and then maybe I could….

Could what? Tell her about the warmth that blossomed in him when she smiled? Tell her about how her voice was easily sweeter than any birdsong he could imagine? Mention how he sometimes wished it was colder, just so he would have an excuse to curl around her in the night, to feel her heart beating?

He flushed under his fur at the very thought of saying any of those things. He had no experience in such a field, and even the idea made him feel flustered.

He licked his chest, giving himself a mental shake. Get a move on, or the prey will all be in hiding and you will have nothing to present her with!

He turned back the way he had come, bounding through the forest with his feathered tail in the air, eyes searching for something special enough to bring back to his lady love.

. . .

When he finally collapsed in the den, exhausted by his efforts, he only had a jay to show for his hard work. It wasn't much, but he knew she very much liked their feathers, and how they so resembled the sky.

I could tell her that this is her own piece of sky, he thought, stared down at the bird. Or…is that too foolish? Perhaps I could just say that she could keep the feathers and then she would say something about the sky…but what if she doesn't say anything? What if she does not like them after all?

Anxiety prickled his pelt. I could…I could mention the sky. That isn't really the important thing anyway, now is it? The important thing is how I feel…about her and her voice and her fur and her kindness and the way her eyes shine…that is all I really want her to know, truly.

He licked his chest again, flattening his fur, trying his best to look presentable. No matter what he said, she would understand, wouldn't she? She who called him 'Teddy,' who knew him far better than any other ever had….

And then he caught it wafting into the den, her scent. He rose to his paws, green eyes gleaming with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. He opened his mouth, but the words died on his tongue as he caught another scent. Blood.

The jay was forgotten as he rushed out of the den just in time to see her collapse. Her pelt was ruffled, fur torn out in places. Several wounds on her shoulders and back oozed blood, as though someone had tried pinning her down. She trembled like a leaf in a storm, and he was struck by icy fear.

"Speckledown!" he exclaimed, rushing to her side. "Oh, by the gods. What happened? Are you alright? What can I do, what can I….?"

He looked around wildly, as if the culprit would just appear, or someone would give him advice, but of course there was no one. The only reply he received were the oak leaves above their heads shaking as a breeze rolled through their tiny home.

He grabbed her scruff then, pulling her into the den as well as he could. His shoulders and neck cried out with the effort but he didn't stop, not until she was inside. He snarled down at her, praying her eyes would open, but she only twitched as if she was asleep. Then, her jaws parted, and she murmured something, so softly that he could barely catch it.

"Not fast enough. Not fast enough."

. . .

He did not know what had happened. There were some things that were beyond him, out of his grasp, areas in which he had no experience. He stood by her, did the best he could, helped her heal and endured her snapping when she needed space. She wasn't overtly hostile to him, not on purpose, but there were times when flames glowed in her green eyes and he felt a genuine prickle of fear.

It would pass. That was what he told himself. Whatever had occurred out there in the dark forest was over, and she would learn to relax again, as he had.

But there were differences. She stopped wanting to go outside. Even when he coaxed her out, hoping to re-inspire her, babbling on about giving things another look, she only squinted in the sunshine for a few moments before retreating back in. So when he woke up one morning and she was not there, he was afraid.

This time he did not think about any silly pranks or surprises. He headed out of the den, hurried down their well-worn path, following her scent as best as he could. But somewhere in the dew and ferns he lost it, lost her, and was filled with panic.

You have failed her once, he told himself. You cannot do so again.

He veered away from their trail, charging into the forest, areas that he usually did not tread. He turned over every rock, looked under every leaf for her, stared up at the sky as if that would help guide him, but there was no sign of her anywhere. It was as though she had melted away like the dew, sunk into the earth like the rain, flown away like a bird.

He was so focused on finding her that he didn't know he was being followed, until it was too late. By the time he smelled the strong tom-scent on the air, heard the crackles in the undergrowth, saw the glimmering eyes in the shadows, they were all around him. He froze up, tail bristling, just as a large tom emerged from the shade. His fur was white mixed with a deep russet-brown; bold tabby markings stood out on his head. His eyes were an odd, milky blue as he stared down at his captured prey.

A smile twisted his muzzle, and he leered, "Hello there, sweets. What brings you into Rudy's part o' town?"

He swallowed, filled with fear, hating his small frame. "I am not here for anything in particular, nor am I looking for anyone. I am just passing through."

The tom blinked for a moment, then barked out a derisive laugh. "You're a tom! A puny one too. Lookit this guy." He tossed a glance over his shoulder at his followers, before boxing Theodore's ears. The tom ducked, but wasn't quite fast enough. The blow laid him out on his side, ears ringing, and he was ashamed of the quiet sound that leaked out of his mouth.

"Damned pathetic!" Rudy gloated, milky eyes glowing with amusement. "Not looking for anyone, eh? That sounds stupid. Do you think you're clever, tiny tom? Do you think you can play Rudy for a fool, eh? Who are you looking for, then? Go on!" His heavy paw struck the ground like a thunderclap, and Theodore flinched.

"I-I am only looking for my friend, my companion," he meowed. "S-Speckledown. She seems to have gotten lost, I think, and she was in quite a bit of trouble earlier this moon, and it really is desperately important that I find her again—"

Rudy cut him off with a boisterous, ugly laugh. "Specs! You're with little Specs? Oh, she was a fine lady. Took us awhile, but we finally got the drop on her, didn't we?" He looked at the other toms again, and a few of them chuckled with him.

"Lemme get a lookit you," he grunted, returning his attention to Theodore. He jerked the smaller tom's chin up with his paw, forcing him to look the thug in the eyes. "Let me guess. You're Spots, right? Spots and Specs, 'ave you ever seen a more pathetic pair?"

More chuckles went around, and Rudy released him with a snort. "We haven't seen your Specs, I'm afraid. Not since she was 'in quite a bit of trouble.'" He snorted again. "Damned shame, though. I'd love to catch her pretty face 'round these parts again, wouldn't you, boys?"

More ugly laughter battered his ears, and he felt something unfamiliar rising up inside of him: fury. But he quashed it, forced it down like a coward, for he knew that he stood no chance against these sorts of cats, anymore than Specs had.

"I will just be on my way, then," he said, rising to his paws. He turned his back on Rudy, only to find another tom in his path, with a sneer.

"I don't think you're goin' places, Spots," Rudy rumbled. "You look like a fine addition to the gang. Slim cat like you charms the ladies, don't he? You certainly seem in well with Specs, if she lets you call her that fancy name. We could use a cat like you."

"N-no, that's quite alright," he stammered. "I-I have…I have very important business to attend to, if you don't mind. I simply must go."

Rudy didn't seem to have heard him at all. "Let's go, boys," he ordered. "Rudy's gotta mighty hunger, and I'm tired of waiting." He looked back to Theodore. "Come on, then. Up here with me. We'll start discussing plans."

Looking back at the other unfriendly faces, he realized he had no choice. Ears pinned against his head, eyes cast downwards, he obediently fell into step beside the swaggering tom as he and his "boys" pushed through the forest.

Rudy went on and on about things he didn't quite understand - something about luring, something about manipulating – but he wasn't truly listening. He was keeping his eyes peeled for some way out, for some gap in the crowd that he could use to dart away. But Rudy's crew surrounded him on all sides, fencing him in, making him feel desperately trapped.

They came to a stop and a few toms were dispatched to hunt. They brought back enough prey for the ground to share, and he received the honor – in the eyes of the group, at least – of splitting a rabbit with Rudy. He ate as little as he could, trying to force back his disgust as the blue-eyed tom prattled on. He nodded when 'Spots' was mentioned, murmured his assent when he felt he should, but tried to block out the tom's words as best he could.

Night fell all too slowly over their heads, and one by one, the toms dropped into contented slumber. Rudy was the last to go, but when he finally let out a sleepy snort and his head fell between his paws, Theodore finally dared to rise and slink away.

He raced back to the den as quickly as he could, paws flying over the earth, feeling his heart pound in his ears. Speckledown had to be back, she had to be, and when he caught her fresh scent as he neared their home, he almost cried out loud with relief.

He burst into the den, eyes wide, only to skid to a stop as he found her sitting, waiting, fiddling with the jay's feather between her paws.

"I told you," she meowed, her voice icier than he had ever heard it.

"Told me what?" he asked, confused. "Are you alright? Nothing happened, did it? I was looking everywhere for you, I was so worried about—"

"I just needed some space. But you were really worried about me, weren't you?" Something in her voice twisted, and for a moment he saw broken glass in her eyes, like a shattered window that could no longer hold back the storm. "I saw you with them, Teddy. Or should I say Spots?"

He went rigid. "I-it wasn't…I wasn't with them, I was just…."

"I told you to stay away from them!" Her voice lashed at him like sleet, and he flinched. "I told you they were bad news, I told you...but you're their pal now, aren't you? You're their best friend, after what they did to…."

He swallowed. He could explain this. He could make it up to her, if she would give him a chance, as she had made him give the forest another look. "Please, Speckledown—"

"Don't call me that!" she snarled. "Don't call me anything, do you understand?" She pushed the jay's feather aside, her eyes blazing, and he quailed before her.

"Speckle—" he caught himself, paused, and tried to start again. "Please, let me explain. It was all a misunderstanding, I swear to you. I was doing my best to stay away from Rudy, I was, I only—"

"Save it." Lightning flashed in her eyes as she rose to her paws. Before he could stop her, she pushed past him, into the gloom of the night.

"Wait! Please, wait!" he moved to rush after her, and she faced him again.

"Please, Speckledown, just wait. Let me explain. Let me…." His eyes found the feather, and the words began spilling out of his mouth faster than he could control them. "When you smile, I feel so…and your voice is better than birdsong, and I wish it was colder…your eyes are so…and this is the sky!" He grabbed the feather, pushing it towards her. For once words failed him; no matter how he scrambled for them, they fluttered just out of his paws, and all the while she was staring at him like he was some sort of mad, raving beast – which, he supposed, he was.

"I thought I knew you," she hissed, "but I guess I was the one who should have looked again. Should have looked deeper. Goodbye, Spots."

His heart pounded furiously in his ears and panic threatened to choke him as he looked into her eyes, the eyes he thought he had known so well. She wasn't lying, wasn't kidding, she was leaving, leaving him all alone.

"I love you," he tried to say, but the words fell from his tongue to the earth without ever reaching her ears. He tried again, and he thought she heard this time, but she was still staring at him as though he was a stranger in her midst.

"I don't want to ever see you again," was all she said, before she wheeled around. It only took a few bounds for her to disappear, for her brown-and-white pelt to be swallowed up by the darkness. And he tried running after her, he gave it his all, but she was too fast, and finally he was alone with nothing but himself and the forest and the tangible taste of regret.

AN: In rp we've seen that Spotty really has no idea what went down here. He blames himself, thinking that it had something to do with his feelings for her – that his confession was the real key, that she would have stayed if he hadn't tried to bind her even further. He's not the kind of cat that could really understand what happened, what Rudy did – again, it's out of his area of experience. Even the aristocats that he knew didn't venture into that sort of thing.

And he wears his name as a badge of shame. :c