Free Wolf's Story Entry: Cat: Nevermore

Alone. The very word that describes my existance. A desolate feeling of hollow emptyness that was so new to me, I of all Cattes have been surrounded by the masses since I was born into the most prestigious family in the society. Now, that is all gone, as if it never were. I guess I should pretend to be shocked when the others scowl at me on the dark city streets or when they spit in my direction. Yet I am not.

I knew I was destined to suffer when I fled the Cattes, but I left anyway. Olenstine was much to small of a town for my liking. Much too small to have both Kinchy and I in it together where we could kill eachother, but that is annother matter. For now, I am just a city cat, incongruety courses through my veins and I can do nothing about it.

It seems like my days back in Olenstine were so distant and alien. Such a meloncholy time when I sat outside the old grey baker's house, my lean muscular body brushing up against the oak door to call for him, the only human who would care for me. Every once in a while he would let me in for some food or maybe even a drink of water. He would sit stroking me as I bathed in the shining affection of his warm embrace, but that was then. I am not afraid to say that I was quite beautiful back in Olenstine, with my satiny brown streaked tan fur, and my bright green eyes. I could walk with my head in the sky and everyone would look at me, the young cat from Backalder's street who could possibly lead the clowder someday, if I played my cards right. Then she came.

The very same sister for whom I had spent long endless nights awake, wallowing in deep severe hatred over. The very same sister who has tried to kill me on more than one occasion, and would have succeded if Ranin hadn't pulled my wet limp body out of Hallows Creek. Kinchy had come. And all of my happiness and expectations withered away with her arrival. Then I knew I must leave, and never come back to my home.

Now my coat has faded to grey and those very same, bright eyes are dimmed. I am no longer the lean slinky cat who seemed to glide on air, rather the ugly cat with matted tufts of fur who walks for miles a day to scrounge for food and helplessly lets her body wither away and fade away, just as her days of glory have.

In this city, with the flashing lights and the millions of manic humans running to get to their places, have they really not noticed me? I am still the same cat as the one that the old baker held. I am the same cat that sang the youngers to sleep when the day had spindled away. So why doesnt anyone stop and see that the wiry cat with the ugly matted fur is me, Kinley. Why doesnt any one care to look at me, or help me?

In this big city with the flashing lights, with the hustle and bustly of people and cats, I truely am alone.