gold on your fingertips - intro!

^{— it was colder than it was in the two-story house that seemed so far away. the days that had passed were wearing down heavily on the young gray cat. the black collar he wore like a medal on his neck jingled with a familiar sound with each step he took into the snow. his strides were getting smaller and meeker; it had already been a nightmare getting this far. remembering why he had come into the forest in the first place was a struggle for his tired mind. the cats on the street weren’t as friendly as the humans that took care of him. how sweet and gentle they were- how he would die to be in the warm bedding they set out for him.}

^{but here he was in the middle of the forest. a strong scent carried its way to him, burning his nose. never in his life had he smelled something like this; like a thousand cats living in one space. and the further he traveled, the stronger it got. stopping briefly to lick one of his hind paws, he began to hear something stepping in the snow. a memory resurfaced of his twolegs throwing soft white powder at him. oh how cold! as it settled on his back he remembered recoiling while they smiled. the crunching of the fresh snow under their giant feet; the smell of burning wood beside their fireplace where he curled up and slept.}

^{Ghoste couldn’t keep the warm memories in his mind for very long with the overbearing feeling of cold air all around him. he desperately tried to stand up tall, looking nothing short of pathetic. how could so many cats have been here, but he heard only quiet behind the trees. quiet, and the crunching snow getting louder.}

^{[color=#69cdff ]—[/color]when a voice broke through the thick sounds of the white forest, the kitten jolted up. energy raged through him- something he hadn’t felt before. trouble. he knew he was in real trouble.}

^{“twoleg place?” he spoke in a soft tone, repeating words he had never heard before. his twolegs did have a place... but how would this stranger know his twolegs?}

^{neighborhood. he realized the word was neighborhood. when his twolegs would open the door, they made him wait for instructions. not too far around the neighborhood, Ghoste.}

^{“where am I?” he looked up at the giant-looking cat with wide eyes. the scent radiating off of him was distinct, unique to himself, but still mingled in with the thick smell of others. maybe these forest cats marked their territory like his twolegs; spraying strong mists of delicate smells. his mother always told him it was lavender, never elaborating on what lavender was. she had probably picked it up from her twolegs.}

^{she always spoke in a thick accent. different from him and his siblings, and very different from the cat in front of him. her words were often hard to understand, though she taught him a lot of words he would later hear from the twolegs.}

^{that was nothing more than a blurry memory.}