Chapter 14: Cold and Calculating

Darkstripe sent Dustpaw and I out to hunt together, and it was an informative experience. We began my leaving the training hollow northward towards Shadowclan territory. We were mostly silent as I let Dustpaw take the lead. He was the most experienced of the two of us. That tom did not say a word to me as we stalked through the undergrowth. The wildlife around us was beginning to stir. I heard a faint scrambling noise and Dustpaw gestured for my attention. Silently I followed his gaze to witness a hare peaking into the nearby clearing.

Dustpaw seemed to want to get a measure of me himself because he gestured for me to stay put. I was crouched silently as Dustpaw masterfully made his way around the hare. I didn't even hear his pawsteps and his pelt matched the soil of the ground somewhat. It was hard to pick him out from the foliage, so much so, that if I hadn't been watching, I wouldn't have noticed him. I barely saw a signal as he leapt out of the undergrowth startling the hare in my direction.

Something in me kicked in. A strange sense of cold calculation took over my body. This was no longer about hunting in my mind. It was eliminating a target as cleanly and efficiently as possible. I could feel each muscle in my body with exact precision. I knew my strength and speed to an almost exact number, and my mind went into overdrive trying to calculate and predict how my actions would result. I picked a target location the hare would run past, just within the range reaction times would not matter that I could reach in a single bound. At the calculated moment, I leapt, reality near perfectly following my prediction. I pinned the rabbit with my paws and gripped its skull in my maw. With a twist, I snapped the hare's neck making a perfect bloodless kill. The hare hadn't even registered it had been caught and only let out a faint squeak when I killed it.

I came down from that state of calculation with a slight headache and a faint feeling of disorientation. I'd never been that way before. It was too exact. It felt too rehearsed. It felt wrong, like something that nothing living should be able to do. It also left a huge strain on my mind as a kind of after effect. I hoped whatever it was wouldn't be necessary too often. That state reminded me of whatever I once was, that being I'd been actively suppressing. I didn't want to get used to that state because I believe whoever I was before practically lived in it. Not even a living being, a machine.

"Good kill, but you didn't need to break its neck. A simple bite would have been quicker. Otherwise, you impressed me kittypet."

That was the first thing I'd ever heard from Dustpaw directed at me. Somehow it felt special to me, like I'd accomplished something special. Did I actually care what that cat thought? Impossible! I'd been so careful to keep myself from gaining any sort of attachment yet. I chalked that feeling up to the praise he gave me. Some cat more experienced than me acknowledged my efforts.

I almost missed Dustpaw leaving.

"What's keeping you? You aren't one of those cats who gets one complement and lets it go to their head right? Please don't be one of those cats. Graypaw is insufferable enough. I don't want to deal with another one."

I quickly grabbed and buried the hare before replying, "no. I just got caught up in my thoughts."

Dustpaw huffed assuming I was just trying to make a good impression on him. I did want him to see me in a positive light, but I didn't want to be friends. Friends mean attachments and commitments. Friends means a cat I have to protect. Friends means I'd have to cater to their health, and right now, I could barely handle one friend. Firepaw is my one friend, my only friend. I can keep him safe, but any more and I'll have to start making sacrifices. Having one priority is just easier. I can afford to hurt others if they aren't in my priorities, so why does it feel so impossible to maintain?

The rest of the hunting went smoothly. Dustpaw and I managed to bag some voles and mice, but no kill of mine was as… efficient as the hare. When we brought our catches in, the rest of the camp seemed impressed, but I felt that same cold spark in my system, just within paw's reach, able to call upon it at will, but I didn't. I already knew whatever that state was, it was addictive. It would be all to easy to live in that apathetic mechanical state following orders exactly and efficiently. I'd also probably be considered a better and stronger apprentice if I did, but doing so would mean sacrificing all that I became after waking up as a cat. I didn't and still don't want to live like that. It wouldn't really be living, but it was so tempting.

Firepaw, my friend, snapped me out of my brooding. He always seemed to know when I was thinking too hard about something. His light cheery voice reminded me why I desired to live with emotions.

"Whoa. Smudgepaw, did you really catch that hare? It's huge! You didn't even make a mess of it. How'd you do it?"

I gave Firepaw one of my rare genuine smiles before launching into my recounting of our hunt. What did I do to deserve that ball of sunshine?

"It wasn't me alone who got that hare. Dustpaw did the hard part of positioning himself and startling it toward me. It was like time slowed down as I planned for the hare's movements. I leapt at the creature at the perfect moment and had it pinned in my paws. With a twist, I broke its neck making a bloodless kill. Honestly it was luck that I managed to pull off my plan so perfectly. If Dustpaw hadn't spooked it so exactly, I'd have likely missed it or made a much messier kill."

The last part of my story wasn't exactly true. I'd calculated three other paths the hare could have taken and five other intercept points based upon how it reacted once I got moving. That calculating state knew no sense of failure. I'd have caught that hare regardless, but it was better to hype up Dustpaw than admit I had a mind more machine than living.

I let Firepaw ooh at my story and his cute reactions and bright smile pushed that cold urge deep inside me where I could barely feel it. Barely. That cold state's siren's call never truly left my mind. A temptation I knew would always remain. I hoped someday I'd forget it existed, knowing I was lying to myself. That temptation would never go away. It was something grafted into my soul by whatever my life was before. Whoever I was before only knew how to survive. You don't become a machine unless it is the only way to survive.