Posts by Birdshadow

"I know her, what's it to you?" spat Stonewing. "My name is Stonewing."

"Hello," replied Stonewing. He dipped his head in greeting.

Stomewing sat in his own nest, shifting his paws in the moss.

"Fine," he mewed. "And you?" He smiled slightly.

"Sure," he replied.

Stonewing raised an eyebrow. "I'm a ThunderClan cat, you fool," he mewed, laughing slightly.

A grime-coated she-cat was lying helpless on the curb under a starless sky.

Her fur was a gentle cream dappled with ruddy red, and her eyes were intense yellow. But you wouldn't be able to see her fur color in all its glory under the layer of dirt that dusted her. Her name was Soil, and she felt on the edge of death.

Her swollen stomach heaved as she yowled into the dead of night, but the only response was a monster whizzing by. Three kits fell onto the pavement, almost in succession. Two were stiff, and their pelts were freezing to the touch. The other moved, but only faintly. Bending over, Soil licked him vigorously with her serrated tongue, and he squirmed for a moment. She allowed a tired smile to adorn her face, and picked the kitten up by his scruff.

"I will name you Hush," she murmured under her breath. The kitten squeaked. His fur was black, but brown streaks decorated his forehead and back.

As she was making her way down the sidewalk, Soil heard a shuffling noise of Twoleg shoes against cement. Her ears pricked and she began to run, but the Twolegs had her from both sides.

"Mangy strays," one grimaced. His foot shot out, and Soil was sent sailing through the air, blood trickling from her side. She crashed into the pavement, Hush still in her mouth, and her eyes fluttered closed as a searing pain in her ribs sent blackness to the world.

The first Twoleg walked quickly up to Soil's still body. She stuck a finger in her mouth, and pulled it out. "Dead," muttered the Twoleg, but then her eyes widened. "George, she had a kitten! Newborn, looks like it. Why the heck didn't you see that? It's alive, but barely. Looks like its mother's fur cushioned the blow." She gently picked up Hush in her hands, which caused the black kitten to mewl in distress. "Quiet, little one. We'll make sure you're okay. George, come look, it's so cute!..."

The other Twoleg hurried over. "It is," he agreed. "But, cute as it is, it's a stray. We'll take it to the pound."

"The pound?! But it's so little!" the other Twoleg argued. Hush was beginning to feel suffocated.

"Doesn't matter. Would you rather it stay out here?"

The Twoleg hesitated. "Actually, yes. At least here it'll have a chance of survival." She smiled at the kitten. "Maybe we'll see him around if he makes it."

"No feeding him. If he does live through the night. It's unlikely, keep in mind."

"Oh, Georgie... can't we at least let him stay in our house for a week or so?"

The Twoleg paused. Finally, he said, "Very well. But after that, he's gone."

***

A Week Later...

"Bye-bye, Chocolate," cooed the Twoleg. Hush had figured out that her name was Mary, and she was nice. George was stricter. He didn't let Hush pee on the soft thing that covered the ground. But he was decent. Right now, Mary held Hush with two hands, and was nuzzling his face in a manner that frightened him. She then walked over to the door and opened it with one swift motion, then set the tiny kit on the front steps. As the door closed behind him, Hush mewled in protest. But he waited there, at the stairs, hoping they would open it again.

The sun began to set. They still hadn't.

Hush sighed and dragged his tiny body down the three stairs, landing with a soft thud on the pavement. He felt his belly rumble.

Help me...

A cat. A kitten, to be exact. Hush weakly pulled himself up and stumbled over to it, his ribs showing.

"H... hi.... who are you?" he mewed weakly, a smile showing on his little face. "I'm Hush." He couldn't help glancing around and meowing, "Have you seen any food around here? I... I haven't eaten since Mary and George gave me pellets to eat yesterday."

Hush smiled. "Thank you..." he muttered and set off after the kit.

"Thanks," he said brightly. He dipped his head into the bowl. The pellets were dry and tasteless, but he hardly cared. He was wolfing them down ten at a time. Finally done, he stepped backwards.

"Yeah," he laughed. "Starving. What's your name?" Hush asked.

"Hush," he mewed. "So... do you live out here, or do you have Twolegs?"

"Oh... I'm sorry.... I have Twolegs, but they put me outside and closed the door. I don't think they're opening it again," he muttered.

"Yeah! Best friends," he said brightly.

A tiny black kit with brown streaks awoke in a clearing. His pelt stung all over from various cuts and bruises. All he could recall in his hazy memories was a long ginger pelt and blood all over.

Hush coughed, and then suddenly widened his eyes. Rosie... where was Rosie? They were best friends. She should be here, or he should be with her. Either one. He stood up weakly, wincing. He would find Rosie, wherever she may be.

Suddenly, a flash of ginger fur became visible between the trees, and the memories came flooding back just as the teeth of a fox sunk into his ribs. Hush squeaked before his cries were mangled by a paw battering his throat. The fox had followed him. He yowled into the day, feeling claws slice down the side of his head.

Username: ~.:Hush:.~
Cat's Name: Stormkit/paw/shatter
Personality: Stormkit/paw/shatter is a tentative cat. She doesn't enjoy company and discourages any speech at her worst, and is quiet but sensible at her best. She's suspicious of those she doesn't know well. Despite all this, she is quite naive and seems to not process the simplest rules of life. As she grows older, she will become emotionally stronger, as she will endure mental pain, but she will remain thoughtful and anxious.
Appearance: I shall wait for the genetics.

Hush coughed, feeling himself swiftly picked up at his scruff by the cat. Blood streamed from his wounds, staining his fur.

The poppy seeds stirred a thick haze of sleepiness in the kit's mind. His brown-streaked flank began rising and falling slowly as he yawned. "Thank you," he murmured, standing up weakly. "I'd... better be going. I have someone to find, and somewhere to go." Though he was tiny, he was at least three moons old.

"I'm dearly sorry, ma'am, but I'm afraid I must go. I don't know... how much time I have to go home." The kitten wrestled from her grip and began slowly limping away.

Hush's fur bristled slightly. "I've fended for myself on the streets for weeks. I can defend myself well enough."