I woke.

The first thing I thought was: Why aren't I moving? I looked down at my paws as if staring at them would somehow cause them to move again. Then I realized that I couldn't feel them at all. Because for all I knew, I had been running for my whole life, and that, I learned, can take a lot out of a cat.

I flopped back down again. Some primitive instinct drove me to lick my fur, so I did. The taste horrified me, the dirt and soot from the streets mixed with the tang of smoke from the Twoleg monsters. I had never before experienced taste, and this was not a good first impression. I quickly gave that up.

Move. I needed to move. Get out. Away. Get to the… forest.

I had no idea what that could be. I had seen a few trees before, but never paid attention. I was too busy running for my life, and my sanity. That, of course, wouldn't stop me. Who cares? The world couldn't be that big, that I couldn't find this "forest" in a few days, at the most. Not that I knew what a day was. Not that I knew who I was.

That was when I first looked at myself. The dirt and smoke coated most of me, but in the part of my shoulder that I had begun to clean, I saw a new color. An unmistakable orange.

Sunlight blared down at me, suddenly coming out from behind its cloudy cover. It glinted off my fur, and I was blinded with this sudden light, a light I had never before seen.

Or had I?

I gasped, and then it came to me.

A mother. Flower, that was her name. Brothers, sisters. Nameless. We were all nameless.

Mouse. I caught a mouse. Flower was so proud. She… she said to eat it. We didn't listen. We played with it. My sister batted it into the air. Orange. I remember the orange.

Dogs! They came for the prey, for the fresh blood. But when they found us… well, we were even fresher.

The chase. Screaming, barking, yowls. I didn't understand. So I ran.

Then something hit me. Ran into me. I was knocked out. And then I woke up, and I ran.

So that was it. My life. But at least I had a memory. Something to live off of. A hope. A chance.

I got to my feet. A pain shot up my legs, through my spine, and straight to the tips of my ears. I staggered, but stood my ground. "No. I have to make it!" I growled. My own voice was a surprise, as up until now I had not known any words. It gave me another burst of strength, another reason to live.

"Make it where, exactly?"

That was how I met my best friend. In bloody, yowling battle for my life.