Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.
Patchwork: The Loud One
by FanficAllergy
oOo
Title: The Loud One
Theme: 09: Loud
Words: 500
Summary: Buttercup doesn't like the pink thing.
oOo
The pink thing was loud.
Rat-Killer-Star-Chaser, nicknamed Buttercup by the lost one, did not like loud. Loud reminded him of the shaking times. The starving times. The confined times.
Quiet was better. Quiet reminded him of home. Of her.
The lost one.
The one with fur like his.
He wondered why she had gone. And why the dark one didn't summon her. Even after all of these winters, he still missed the lost one. The one with the milk. The stocky one was an adequate substitute. He provided other treats. Not entrails, though. For that he needed the dark one. The mean one. The one who yelled. Still, he didn't dare leave. This was the lost one's home. She would return.
So Rat-Killer stayed with the dark one and the stocky one. Waiting. Hoping.
Then the pink thing came and he regretted his decision.
Not only was it loud. It smelled. Mostly of things best left buried. But sometimes, after it cuddled in the dark one's lap, it smelled sweetly of milk. Rat-killer wanted that milk. And this thing was keeping it from him.
When no one was looking, he studied the loud one. It was small for a two-legged thing. And grabby. It waved its forepaws like a kitten trying to bat a fly. Clumsily and without purpose.
He didn't like the loud one. Especially when it grabbed his tail.
The pink thing should have known better. A cat's tail was sacrosanct. He needed to teach the thing manners.
So he did.
The loud one lived up to his name, wailing like captured chipmunk.
The stocky one thundered into the room. Scooping the loud one into his arms, he found Rat-Killer's reprimand on the loud one's paw. It was a small wound. Shallow. It would heal. And maybe the loud one would know better than to yank a tom cat's tail.
"Bad Buttercup! Bad!"
The words confused Rat-Killer as did the tone. He did nothing wrong. Kittens must learn their place. It's not like he bit the loud one's neck.
He mewed, calling for the lost one. She would understand. She would help.
But like every other time he called for her, she never came.
"You need to be nice to the baby. Prim would want that."
Prim. That was the lost one's name.
Rat-killer mewed again.
"Yes. You were bad. Juniper doesn't know better. You have to be nice."
Was that the loud one's name? Juniper? He trilled a question.
"She probably pulled your fur. I know how that hurts. She pulls my hair too. But you can't lash out when someone hurts you. It just causes more hurt."
He didn't understand. The stocky one spoke so strangely and didn't possess a tail. How was he supposed to communicate properly?
Rat-killer snuffed. He'd go out. Find a nice sunbeam. Until the loud one learned manners he'd avoid her.
After all, he was an old tom cat. And he was waiting to see the lost one before he died.
oOo
AN:
Written: 12/31/15
Unbeta'd
This was my alcohol influenced New Year's Fic. I figure Buttercup could live long enough to see the new Mellark Baby. And babies and cats don't mix and all pet interactions should be supervised. Have a happy new year!