The loud chanting of memories haunted the she-cat as she bolted through the wild trees, the night seeming to be extra dark as she slipped through a wad of webs by accident, racing far and far away as she looked behind her back to see her family split ways. It just wasn't fair, it seemed. The loud roar of a monster screamed in the air and she looked to the massive car as it tore up her old home, the trees falling to the ground with a loud earthquake sound. The young tortoiseshell had done as she had been told by her parents.
In her jaws she held two siblings, her eyes verging left and right as they processed her surroundings. Inch by inch those naked creatures had taken her family, uncles, grandparents, aunts, cousins, you get the point, away. Her parents had her and three other siblings in the same litter, but they had left her family to escape the process of the twolegs creating a factory. She didn't know if her other siblings were alive, but in her jaws were the most recent litter. The apprentice aged she-cat was running from a fire that had started in her territory when a machine cutting down the trees sparked, and now their whole home was gone.
Amata was her name. She was running with her siblings, the last thing she saw as her remaining family, her parents, fled with orders to take the kits, and that everyone would bond together soon. But however, Amata wasn't sure at this moment. She had no clue where they would be, and the world around her seemed infinite, although it was most likely not. Amata had her only two siblings she could hold and see, as well as love. They were very new to the world, hardly a week old. She was carrying them with her, trying to find safety for them when they started bawling.
Unaware that her paws crossed their territory, she bolted into a huge cave carved in the mountain, curling her fluffy soft dappled tail around her body and the kits, near the entrance and the smell of oil and destruction upon her fur from the damage to her old home as she groomed her young siblings, eyes filled with worry and compassion. Although Amata was not their parents, she felt an urge to be motherly and gentle with them, although she was at an apprentice-age, about eight months old. Head resting softly upon her own tail, she fell asleep peacefully with her siblings huddled next to her.