Chapter 30: Prisoner of Pacifism

I'd assumed they just planned to leave me in the depths of this cave network to await whatever prophecy they were hellbent on seeing through, not giving a thought about me until afterwards. I was glad to hear that I was incorrect. Someone was approaching, their steps having a slightly weighted rhythm and a soft sweeping sound matched it making it clear they were carrying something. It was just one cat. I could take them! I could leverage the darkness of my back to allow a sneak attack.

Scourge's memories echoed through me. If I captured this cat, I could make them tell me the way out… one way or another. Torture was something well versed in my past incarnation's memories. There were ways to make even the most seasoned enemy squeal like a kit. I knew well how to cause unimaginable pain in my enemies, especially when they were held down. Whoever this coming cat was, they'd feel Scourge's full wrath.

The cat approaching became more visible as they got closer. Their pelt was a chalk white. Their build was something rather strange for one of these tribe cats. Their front legs were semi-muscular, but they were too lacking to be anything like the guards. They were also far too muscular to be one of the hunters. It did not matter. This cat was my way out.

I lunged out of the darkness, tackling the tom, but I swore he saw it coming. He did not move to resist, allowing me to bowl him over. I pressed him into a pin, my claw extensions picking at his neck, but he looked so pitifully accepting of the position like it was a forgone conclusion. His claws weren't even flexed defensively. It seemed so wrong. There wasn't even the slightest bit of retaliation, anger, or desperate fear. There was only resignation. This cat was still bigger than me, more muscular, and had a home field advantage. Why? Why would he just let me do this? I'm dangerous. They know I'm dangerous. How could he just give up like that?

I released the tom from the pin, sensing that he was just as much of a prisoner here as me. He lifted himself up, sitting within my sight with that same look of resignation. He watched me, his form held submissive despite all his advantages over me. There was the slightest hint of curiosity in his eyes, but it was buried under his desire to show weakness.

"What… Whit is your name?" I tested, hoping to somehow get anything out of the tom.

"My name is Claws Who Marr The Mountain's Face, Claws for short, or Scratch." He answered in a sad monotone.

"Why would they just send you down here alone?" I pressed, trying to get a sense of this tribe and its weaknesses.

"Because I am useless. My death would cause no harm to the tribe. It would merely show that interacting with you is dangerous." He answered in that sad tone again.

That simple statement ignited something in me. I could feel a rage from within, and it wasn't toward this cat I was interrogating. "What kind of monster tells another cat that they are useless? Whoever said such nonsense should have their tongue ripped from their skull and be strangled with it." I hissed.

"It is simply a fact. I cannot be a guard or a hunter, so therefore I must be useless." He answered, as if the statement was obvious.

"And what makes you unqualified to do either? You seem pretty well built, so I could see you being able to do either." I replied, seeking to somehow get a tiny bit of life out of this husk of a tom.

He let out a sigh, clearly not looking forward to answering my question but even less willing to deny my request and risk retaliation. "On the day I was born, Jaggedtooth appeared on the mountain. He is a great beast resembling a cat, but he's a mindless monster. His claw marks were the first thing my mother saw after I was born, thus my name. When I was presented to Stoneteller, he had a vision or perhaps a warning. He was warned that the moment I spilled the blood of another, it would become an addiction, an overwhelming desire. From that moment on, I became useless. I can neither defend the tribe or hunt for it. I cannot raise my claws in defense, or I may be punished." He answered.

I couldn't help looking closer at the pitiful tom after that admission. His last sentence told far more than it merely stated. Something my father taught me once applied here. Morality is something learned through experience. Many cats never actually learn what it means to be moral, instead merely abiding by a set of rules or laws. When an individual is outside those rules, those individuals lord their adherence to said rules and cast cruelty upon those they're not explicitly told are in the group. Thus, the sight of the many claw scars breaking up the pitiable tom's form were not that surprising, still infuriating to see but expected nonetheless. After all, he wasn't allowed to retaliate, so he was the perfect victim.

"You don't have to live like this. You don't just have to accept what they do to you." I mewed, hoping to somehow break through the tom's barriers.

"Where would I go? I know not how to hunt or fight. I would die. Here, I at least survive." He answered, his tone wavering.

"But is just surviving worth it?!" I rebutted, seeing the briefest flicker of sadness of the tom.

"It is all I have ever known and have ever done." He answered before turning away.

I watched him pad off into the darkness. The prey and wet moss he'd brought still lay on the ground where I'd knocked them out of his grip. I did not follow him. Something in me just told me not to. I didn't want to see him punished for helping me. I saw a broken cat, and I didn't want to break him further. Instead, I merely brought the meal back to where I was left and ate. I knew he'd be the one back when it came time to feed me again, and maybe I could convince him to help me out. Maybe I could convince him that there was more to life than simply surviving. I needed the allies. Even if I did somehow find my way back to their main area, I couldn't just walk out or free Stormfur. I'd need help, and he was my best option.