She was tired, hungry, and wet. Never before had she hated the rain with such passion. In the future, it would have been easier to survive. The city would have provided vast amount of shelter for the poor feline. Perhaps even sympathetic humans to take her in.
The Feudal Era was a completely different story.
Padding through the forest, she heard her belly rumble in hunger. Yet, as she lifted her delicate nose into the air, she knew nothing good would come from it. It was not as if garbage cans were laying around, or little children were running about with hopes of domesticating her.
She vaguely remembered how scared and disoriented Buyo had looked when she had first discovered him. Was this what she looked like now? Was her hair matted and dirty like his had once been? Looking down at her midnight paws, she briefly wondered what breed she was.
Glancing at her soaking wet tail, it too was the color of onyx—like her hair had been.
Her human hair.
Swishing her tail left to right, her eyes flickered towards the forest before her. Trying to drown out the sounds of the storm, she contemplated on her destination.
Naraku was defeated, everyone was safe, and she had been granted this.
Clearly, life was not fair.
If her assumption was right, then the well was gone—destroyed in the aftermath of the war. That had been what had occurred. A war. One that she had wished never happened. Obviously, the gods had a sense of humor, or maybe decided to interpret her wish differently than she had meant.
Much differently.
