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In their presence, any cat would feel small.
Keen eyes gaze at you, judging you for your worth. You know you are not the first cat to come here - nor will you be the last. But you've come with a mission, and all you have to do is sell yourself.
"What makes you stand out from the rest of the cats who want another chance?"
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A quiet, pathetic whimper from the shadows, before Bogtumble slunk into view - tail dragging, long ears limp, expression tired but oh so desperate. He wasn't sure how this whole process worked, but if it landed him a meal, he was willing to try.
“I've been HUNGRY. For so long. I've forgotten what fur feels like underneath my claws. How flesh splits between my teeth. The warmth of blood on my tongue…”
He stared down at the ground.
“There's no way for me to eat here. I've TRIED. I got so close, and then the opportunity vanished before my eyes. I- I shouldn't even BE here. If Daddy had just done his JOB, if he hadn't LEFT ME, I wouldn't be STUCK in this hell, withering away like this! Forgotten!” He slammed a paw against the surface he stood on, eye starting to water and limbs beginning to shake.
“Let me back,” he pleaded.
“I want to run, to hunt, to eat. It's been so, SO long. It's killing me a second time, not to be able to sink my claws into something!”
His last attempt had been cut short. If he could actually get back, with solid ground beneath his paws and the sun on his back, the ability to finally once again consume... well, he might actually die a second time from the sheer joy that would overcome him.
Bogtumble
