She hides, and she shivers. Fragmented behind a layer of leaves, the cat sniffs the air; even from this distance, its eyes are wide and blue, and predatory. She has been a prisoner of theirs for months, locked away in a dank earthy vault below ground, a cavern that reeks of misery and lingering death. They took her out today, two towering frightening beasts that dragged her from the dark, although these are no heroes, no saviour. Expressionless, they broke her legs, and then her spine, and left her to die bleeding in this forest. Only now they're hunting her, and she must stay quiet, because she trusts not at all that dark hunting glint in the young stranger's eyes. He is not here to hunt birds.
The pressure is building behind her nose. She can't help it; she sneezes, and when she opens her eyes again, the young tom is right in front of her, a smirk fading from his lips. One of the beasts from before strolls into the clearing and congratulates him. He is still staring at her when her throat is cut, when she is broken just one last time.