It had been moons after the thistle's death, and she was finally beginning to look toward recovery. Although he would make a lasting impact on her, she resolved to take matters into her own hands so that she could no longer think of him. After all, if she despised him so much, it was only fitting that she replaced him.
He looked like he held the stars in his paws. His fur was graced with a cool, elegant sheen that set his brilliant blue eyes on fire. His pelt was delicately striped with dark tabby patterns and his legs were taut with muscle. The first time she saw him, she couldn't help but swoon. Perhaps he was the one who would take her mind off everything. He was certainly worth every risk. . .Or was he?
