A small gray nose poked out from a thick, funny smelling den door. It twitched as it sniffed, before finally a mostly white cat with a red nub of a tail and a red splotch on his head emerged. Max wore no collar, but he lived with his Twolegs. His Twolegs had a rather spacious garden, with flowerbeds and soft grass to laze in. A tall white border ran along the edge, thick enough for a cat to comfortably perch. And a river ran close by outside.
Lush trees grew int he garden, some dropped different fruit during greenleaf and newleaf and his Twolegs would pick them. Max let out a contented sigh, he had a good life here, he had to admit. Safe and warm, food and water always provided. But unlike many of the other cats who lives with Twolegs, he had a deep respect for clan cats who lived happily without any of those comforts.
Max strode confidently over to the edge of his garden, bunching up his legs underneath him, and then jumping to the top of the white border. He unsheathed his claws to grab the wood better, and then sat down for a moment. Lazily enjoying the view from his perch.
Another lazy, warm day found Max lounging on the top of his housefolk's white barrier - he's heard other housecats like him refer to them as fences - basking in the warm sun. He balanced his weight carefully, using his extra toes to help grip the wood to compensate for his lack of a tail for balance. His head rested in his paws, he gazed out to the forest beyond. His mind whirling with questions about the cats who lived there in groups and called themselves "warriors".
Max sat in the remnants of his garden in disbelief. He had fled with the other cats, and now returned to his home only to find it...abandoned. His housefolk were nowhere to be seen. "They...they left." He mumbled to himself. Well, of course they left. But then...they didn't come back. Max's fur was stained with smoke and in sore need of cleaning. And he was hungry. As much as Max admired the clan cats, he wasn't as skilled of hunter as they were. Feeding off wild prey was much more difficult than he thought.
Beyond that, the nest was mostly burned. Max tentatively approached his old home, memories flooding his mind of how things used to look. Now it was...a skeleton. He entered the den, now exposed to the elements but at least there was some coverage. He found his old nest, or what was left of it, on the second floor and settled down with a huff. The manx cat was too exhausted to move right then, shaken by the experience and weighed down with sorrow. All he had the energy to do right now was sleep...
one moon later
Max's mostly white pelt was in total disarray now, and his ribs were visible. As the weather grew colder, he struggled more and more to hunt. Having to rely mostly on the kindness of passing Twolegs who would leave food by his den. Max still waited at his old home for his housefolk to return. He still held on to the hope that they would come back for him, surely they hadn't forgotten him entirely? Or worse... He refused to consider it. But something surely needed to change, even Max knew he couldn't continue like this for very much longer.
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Re: Max's Garden
Wilder sniffed around the abandoned homes, making his way up and down the street. He'd been lucky a few times in regards to finding discarded bedding, as well as food that had busted out of their little shiny, twoleg-made prisons due to the fire for whatever reason. Though that tactic was drying up now, as the time since the fire stretched longer and longer. Wilder has not reliably found food using that method for quite a while now, but since he was in a part of town he didn't usually visit, he thought he might as well look.
Nosing through charred brush of a once-probably-nice garden, he was startled to see another cat. Most of the kittypets he knew were taken by their persons, so to see a white pelt move familiarly through a den was surprising. Of course, this could just be another loner that decided to set up shop while the people were still gone. But somehow, he doubted that. There was a starved, uncomfortable look about the other tom, like he wasn't used to hunger or cold, or anything beyond the cushy pelts and pellets of a kittypet life.
Wilder debated his options, as he watched the other cat disappear out of his sight. He could engage, or he could leave. But it's been a while since he's spoken to another cat, and he's recently had a few bites of... what could be considered food, plus he wasn't injured or anything. If there was a fight, he'd probably win. Okay. He'll do this.
The black and white tom crept forward until he could see the other cat again. "Hey buddy, what're you doing here?" Wilder called, half-hidden in the burnt away foliage. He squinted at the tom, then added, "Wow, you're skinny. Forget how to eat?" Can't be too friendly, of course. Plus, like before, it's been a little bit. Might as well have some fun.
@Luna16 :3 wilder can be a little snippy, sarcastic, etc with how he speaks. or at least that's what was coming out of me as i was writing lol
The manx’s pelt spiked with surprise at another voice. Max leapt to his paws, not sure now if he was facing friend or foe. Before, he was always certain that he wasn’t facing an enemy, but now…it was anycat’s guess. He looked around for the source, but couldn’t find the other cat. They called him…’buddy’? So maybe…not a threat. Max couldn’t fully relax though, he wasn’t sure what he was dealing with.
“I-I live here.”Well, that wasn’t very convincing. His stub of a tail twitched anxiously. “Name’s Max.” His ears flattened at the comment about eating, he knew he looked rough but geez! Not that he really had any good defense for the accusation. “Well…I didn’t forget per say…” For once, he realized how odd it must be for a cat to not know how to hunt.
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Re: Max's Garden
Wilder thought for a moment. Max lived here... which probably meant that he was a kittypet. The hungry look, sticking around a burnt heap of a twoleg den; Wilder knew for sure that this cat would at least be no bodily threat to him, so he crept out to where the other tom could see him. Also skinny, but Wilder moved with confidence, and flicked his dark tabby tail up into the air.
"I'm Wilder. Why would you want to live in this burnt den?" He nodded to the dense woods beyond the garden line. "There's some good eating and living over there. Not even out of eyesight from here." Wilder looked back at the cat in confusion. Easy shelter aside (or even former kittypet aside) he thought he'd rather live in the woods than some burned down structure.
Max’s eyes shot over to where the cat emerged, startled to see such a strong and confident voice coming from a cat who barely looked to be better off than he was. He nodded at the tom, showing appreciation for him stepping out. “I wish I could offer you something but…” He glanced around at the remnants of his home.
Max blinked warmly when Wilder introduced himself, but heaved a heavy sigh at his question. “I know it seems…odd to forest cats.” He meowed, nimbly making his way down the wreckage to get to the ground. He didn’t want to speak to Wilder from a higher angle like that, it seemed rude. His extra toes helping him to grip the planks of wood as he made his way, allowing him to compensate for not having a tail. He leapt and landed in front of Wilder, sitting down in front of him. “I fled after the fire, and ran into the forest with some other cats from the neighborhood.” He explained. “When I came back, my housefolk - er, Twolegs - they were still gone…” He looked down as he shuffled his paws. “I stay because…well they could still come back for me. They were…they were my family.”
Even as he spoke, he knew the odds of that were slim. It had been almost two moons since the fire, and his housefolk hadn’t returned for him.
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Re: Max's Garden
Wilder watched an ant crawl by as Max spoke. He supposed he could understand the want -- or need -- to stick close to what you know. "Yeah, I think I get it. If I was being fed free food everyday for my whole life, I don't think I'd leave easy either." For a second, Wilder got a few flashing images of a warm figure when he was a kit, and the sense of another kitten against his flank as they slept. Yeah, he could understand.
"Speaking of, you still hungry? I've been looking around for food myself, but was just about to head into the woods on my own. If you were with me, maybe I could teach you not to starve." Wilder nodded again toward the treeline. He wondered if Max had ever ventured out there, where the 'wildcats' lay.
Wilder watched an ant crawl by as Max spoke. He supposed he could understand the want -- or need -- to stick close to what you know. "Yeah, I think I get it. If I was being fed free food everyday for my whole life, I don't think I'd leave easy either." For a second, Wilder got a few flashing images of a warm figure when he was a kit, and the sense of another kitten against his flank as they slept. Yeah, he could understand.
"Speaking of, you still hungry? I've been looking around for food myself, but was just about to head into the woods on my own. If you were with me, maybe I could teach you not to starve." Wilder nodded again toward the treeline. He wondered if Max had ever ventured out there, where the 'wildcats' lay.
Max frowned at Wilder's summary, that wasn't quite it... "More like...this is the home I shared with my family. So I'm just...reluctant to leave it." He meowed, looking over his shoulder at the ruins of his home. He turned his bright yellow eyes back to Wilder. "Have you ever had a home like that?" He asked, realizing after that it could be a rude question. "S-Sorry...I don't mean to pry or anything."
He blinked in surprise at Wilder's offer and nodded eagerly. He had to admit, learning proper hunting techniques would be a nice change of pace. "That would be much appreciated, friend!" He purred, rising to his paws with a smile. "Not starving is...preferred." He meowed with an awkward chuckle.
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Re: Max's Garden
Wilder tilted his head thoughtfully. "I mean, I've been on my own since maybe I was," he had to think for a moment, "fffour moons old? I think? Or five." Wilder licked his chest fur. "I mean, I had a mom and a sister. But Mom let us know that she loved us, but didn't love us. Or something like that. I don't know. She taught us to hunt and then left one night." He shrugged. "No big deal. Strays do that, so I've been told."
"Plus, I had my sister. But then she up and left too -- don't know why. I didn't see any evidence she was killed." Wilder glanced away as he mentioned his sister. It wasn't a necessarily touchy subject, but not something he wanted to share that moment.
The tom stood and shook himself. "But now that we've gotten mushy with each other, I haven't eaten since dawn. Let's head into the woods over there." He flicked his tail to the treeline beyond the fence. "There's some chance we'll see other loners but who knows. I'll show you a spot where the Clan cats don't hunt." Least I can do is teach this cat how to hunt. Wilder thought, leading the way to the trees.
@Luna16 hehe sorry for the delay, i've just started a job and have been more tired than normal -- feel free to ping me if too much time has passed! also idk where are you thinking the treeline is? for some reason I'm imagining riverclan territory but i could be totally off the mark (like there could be no clan territory there but idk im rambling haha)
Max's Garden
