Fawnwhisper's story

A young, tedious, curious long-furred Norwegian Forest kitten padded through the large, deciduous forest. Her torn, scratched collar was nearly ripped in half, her previously immaculate short tan fur was now over-grown, dirty and ruffled. Her tiny round paws ached and agony shot through her every time she took a step. Her tiny, blood splattered claws were covered in grit and were in need of a trim. Hearing a loud snarl, her large sea blue eyes widened in fear and she scattered up a tree.

"Where's that little kitty-pet? I shall skin her alive!", hearing this sent shivers down her spine and the kit held onto the tree even tighter, shaking uncontrollably with fear and dreaded thoughts. "Ahah," the large rouge smirked,"there's my prey." With two jumps, she was within claw's-reach of the kit. Letting out a squeak off horror, the kit swiped at the she-cat's outstretched paw.

"Ooh, this kitty pet has some fire in it!". The little kit glared at the rouge, regaining her courage and let out a little snarl of anger

"Get away from me, you filthy pile of fox dung!". Swiping again at her paw, she caught it with her unsheathed over-grown claws and left a mark. As deep red liquid seeped out, the rouge spat out furiously

"I'm going to tear your limbs off one by one and feed them to the crows!". With one swift swipe, the large vicious she-cat had grabbed hold of the fearful kit. Pushing her down off the tree and picking her up in her large jaw which was filled with dangerously sharp, dagger-shaped, red teeth. The rouge held her with no care, sinking her teeth deeper into the kits ear as she made her way through the dense forest. A rather petite yet muscular Tom padded into view, his dark eyes were bleak and showed anger, but if you were to look further you would see a haunted past.

"Finally, Sinister, where the darkforest (Hell, Im sorry I had to do that) have you been!" The feisty feline spat at him. "I should ask you the same question, bullying kits again are you?" Sinister' voice was unmistakably filled with hatred and coldness-and if you were to hear it, it would no doubt chill your spine. The she-cat sank her teeth, which was now coated in the kit's warm blood, even further into the kit. "Drop the poor thing," Sinister ordered, adding a "Now!". She snarled angrily before dropping the small bundle off bloody fur. Striding off, she shouted out at the Tom "This is the last time you tell me what to do, brother!"