Having a spine is a new experience for her. But since her imprisonment and her wild escapade, she's grown a backbone, surprising even herself. She's not sure why she ends up back in the city, but it's the only place she knows, and even the shadiest backstreets are a fair sight more welcoming than that gloomy pit she crawled from.
"Hey, doll," a voice says, saccharine and syrupy. She turns to face its owner in the dim street lighting, showing the extent of her scars, which refuse to heal- just like her dreams, which refuse to forget. "Why don't you come along with me?" His eyes scan her scars, then return to her eyes, all the while he grins boldly. He's a thick-furred tabby, sleek and solid. She, however, has not eaten for a week.
"No," she snaps at him, that new spine of hers kicking into action.
He shrugs. "Fair enough. Name's Emory."
She just stares at him, supposing she's supposed to offer her name in return. Maybe she would, if she still had one.
And though she now has a spine, which she likes fairly well and all, she goes with him anyway. The rest will be history.