Thank you guys who took the time to put up reviews. And I shall be answering a question I got from an anonymous review.
"Did I ever read Warriors?"
As a matter of fact, I did up until some time in the third series because of a multitude of reasons. 1. Squirrelflight got on my nerves, as did Jayfeather's emo whining, Hollyleaf's PERFECTIONISTNESS, and Lionpaw-or-what-ever-the-hell-the-Lionheart-imposter's-name-is's slaughter. 2. All the nonsense about Medicine Cats running off with cats from other clans started to make me twitch. 3. Stormfur didn't come back to the clan... at least I have Graystripe.
So I hope that answers your question.
The Master was a old, short haired cat with black fur, and a graying muzzle. His eyes were a pale green like the bottom of leaves. And he was seated on the floor with his back straight, and a proud stature. It took a moment after noticing the lacking, that he had a small stump for a tail.
"You must be the flying one I have heard so much about." He questioned.
"I suppose I am." Yusuf answered.
"A pleasure," he lifted his paw and bowed his head in that same guesture that the Persian had given him, and once more Yusuf copied the action. "You may call me Hoca, young one."
"I have talked to your healer, Sevmek, that you think I am a part of some sort of legend," he told him. "What is it that is causing you trouble?"
"The answer to the question is as simple to give as chewing grass," Hoca mrrowed, "as of lately we-."
"HOCA! HOCA!"
A thin and small calico cat came scrambling up the ramp with eyes wide and fur bristled. She was trembling heavily in her terror. "Hoca! Another one has been killed!"
The old cat stood up. "Who?"
"Kavgacı, Master."
He nodded and padded behind her, a tilt of his head towards Yusuf and Hükümdar indicated that he wished for both to follow. They came down to the main space, where a large tom laid sprawled out across the dusty floor. His dark gray fur stained dark rust with dried blood from horrifying carnage done to his soft belly and neck. His mouth was open in a snarl, and eyes glassily staring off into nothing. The cat had died fighting.
Hoca bowwed his head and sighed. "Another one of us dies every day. This is why we need your help." He then turned and faced him. "I believe that dogs are behind these relentless murders."
"Dogs," Yusuf repeated. "And I assume you think I can help you take care of them?"
"I hope that you can," Hoca corrected. "You have the choice to leave if you so decide."
Yusuf nodded and thought for a moment, then met his gaze and nodded. "Evet, I will help you."
MEANWHILE!
Ezio put his face in his hands in frustration as he sat down on a bench. He had checked EVERYWHERE. The Hagia Sofia, the Palace, the docks, all of the Galata districts, the dens, the rooftops, and everything inbetween. Yusuf was no where to be found!
Now it wasn't likely he just vanished, right? He couldn't have just gotten lost. This was Yusuf we're talking about.
"Damn..." The old assassin breathed, narrowing his eyes at the cobblestone. What should he do? He wasn't sure. If he kept looking, it might arouse suspition from his recruits, but if he didn't would Yusuf come back? What if he was in trouble? He doubted that the man, or cat anyways, would be very much able to defend himself.
BACK TO YUSUF!
"And we're moving out."
"Wait!"
Yusuf turned around to find Sevmek trotting towards him. She quickly came to his side and bumped it with her nose, pressing some cobwebs back into the cut. As she twitched her pale pink nose, she looked down shyly.
"You were starting to bleed again." She explained.
He nodded, "Thank you," and looked over his shoulder as a group of sixteen cats converged at the entrance. He twitched a whisker before he left the healer to join them, once again ignoring the arguing half of his mind that competed for dominence. So long as he kept his nerve, and retained his wit, he would not break, right?
Hoca met him at the entrance of the basement, appearing rather conserned. "Yusuf, are you sure you are up to this?"
"I do believe I'm the one who fell from the sky," He responded with underlying sarcasim. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"
"You do appear rather thin, have you not eaten a morsel since you arrived?" He questioned like a lecturing parent would to their child.
"I didn't know that I was invited to take as I pleased." He stated, whisking past him.
But Hoca didn't allow for the conversation to end there, he stepped in front of him again. "Do not be so coy with me. Now, seeing as you could use something in your belly before this fight, maybe you could come hunting with me."
"Hunting?"
"I hope I do not need to explain." Hoca sighed.
"No, no. I know what hunting is," Yusuf assured. "I just didn't think I'd be asked to join anyone in it."
"You don't seem to expect anything, do you?" The older retorted.
"It's probably better that way."
"I am inclinded not to agree." He replied before stepping outside. "Come."
With that, Yusuf followed him out and around the streets, little was said, only the small patter of their paws against the cobblestone seemed to lazily float to his ears. He hadn't realized though until now how much more he seemed to smell with his mouth open; the light scents of bread and flowers wafted to his pallet and something else. It was clear that's what the older cat was homing in on. And, with a flick of his ear and a soft prod to his paw, the old cat signaled for Yusuf to stop.
"Stay quiet, I'll show you how it's done." Hoca whispered as he got down to a crouch, and slowly crawled forward. It took a moment to follow his sharp, unwavering gaze to an unsuspecting rat nawing on the wood of a stand. With a burst of speed, Hoca sprang when he was within distant, and quickly dispatched the verman with a hard blow of his extended claws and a bite to the neck.
He padded back with the rat in his mouth, a proud sort of look on his face- seeing as the damn thing was half his size- and dropped it down between them.
When Yusuf only stared at it, he asked, "Aren't you going to have any?"
"Wha', no." Yusuf quickly refused, unwilling to try and stomach a rodent. "I... well... you caught it, maybe I should go and find my own meal..."
"Nonsense," Hoca laughed, whiskers twitching. "I don't mind sharing, and I probably won't be able to finish this fat thing by myself anyways."
"Really, you don't have to let me have any," He continued to semi-calmly argue. "I'm not hungry."
"You're joking, you humble kit." The old tom stated with a little more serious humor than before. "I can even hear your belly. Best you have some of this kill before it gets cold."
"But I'm fine."
"No, just have a little bit."
With the rat pushed right up to Yusuf's paws, the pudgent odor seeped up, and he clamped his mouth shut. But still, it leaked into his nose. It wasn't what he thought it would be like, he thought he would vomit if he so much as smelled the thing, but instead it only brought saliva to his mouth and his stomach to growl in protest to his stubbornness. But he didn't cave into it, he didn't let it get the better of him.
And so, finally giving up on the cause, Hoca sighed disapprovingly and laid down to tear open the skin and eat the blood soaked tendons and meat inside like they were some sort of delicasy in a fine wrapping. As more of that smell continued to fill his nose, it only made him feel worse until he couldn't take it anymore.
To escape the scent of rat, he turned and ran in the first direction he could think of. He jumped up the boxes in quick resession, then onto the wooden beams that were nailed into the buildings until he was up on the rooftops. There, he collapsed on the tiles and curled in on himself as the torturous groans of his empty stomach lulled him to sleep.
Wait a second, when did this get angsty? I have no idea. But a word of the wise. If you're starving, and stuck in a cat's body, and you have the option to eat a rat and walking away, JUST. EAT. THE. FRICKING. RAT.