Alley Cat (Discontinued)

Catfight

The boy arched his back and raised his tail. Perhaps he could intimidate the other cats? No, that was a stupid idea. The cats were much, much larger than he was. But that was all the boy could think to do as the two battle-worn cats approached, ears back and fangs and claws bared.

"Get back!" the boy growled. "I'm warning ya!"

The cats stopped in their tracks.

Did that actually work? The boy thought. Did I intimidate them?

The boy's hackles lowered, and he looked from one cat to the other. The tabby let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a meow and a growl. The gray cat joined in.

Is this how cats communicate? I thought they just meowed. Whatever.

The boy meow-growled back, hoping he wasn't saying anything too rude.

Without warning, the tabby lunged at the boy, shoving him against the brick wall with a thud. It wrapped its paws around the boy's neck, digging its claws into him. Pain shot through the boy's neck. He cried out in pain. He panicked, twisting his body this way and that, trying to get back on his feet. The tabby screeched and clawed at his stomach with its back feet. The gray cat joined in, biting at the boy's head and landing extra scratches where it could.

"Jeez, did I cuss you out or somethin'?!" the boy yowled. He extended his claws and swung at the gray cat, his claws grazing its face. The gray cat drew back, blood dripping from just beneath its eye. The tabby bit the boy's arm, and blood gushed from the wound.

The boy swung his good arm and his legs wildly. His claws raked against the tabby's face and stomach, and he bit down on the cat's neck. The tabby yowled in pain and finally let go.

The boy regained his footing and ran down the alley as fast as he could, his heartbeat loud in his ears, pain shooting through his stomach and arm with every step, blood pouring from the wounds. But he couldn't stop. He had to get away from those cats.

The boy ran and ran, twisting and turning through various streets and alleys, until finally he fell to the ground, in too much pain to go on. He breathed heavily as he lay on the cold, hard concrete. He examined his injuries. His gray fur was stained red where he had been bitten, and scratches covered his stomach.

"Stupid cats," The boy panted. "Other street kids ain't nearly that violent." He licked at his wounds, his rough tongue pulling off clumps of loose and bloody fur. The boy's arm was bleeding moderately, and he didn't know how he was going to stop the bleeding. If he was human, he would have torn off a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around his arm like a bandage, but he had neither the shirt nor the dexterity to do that now. Instead, he kept licking at his arm until the bleeding eventually slowed down.

The boy drew in a deep, ragged breath. His heart was still racing, and he could hear his pulse in his head.

Calm down. You won't heal fast if you don't sleep, and you cain't sleep if your heart's goin' a million miles a minute.

The boy slowly let out the breath he was holding. He waited a couple seconds, then took in another deep breath and held it. He repeated the process until his heart had calmed down. He listened closely to the sounds of the town---rats scurrying about, owls hooting softly, the flutter of bat wings, and the sound of cars passing a few feet away from where the boy lay curled up. The sounds became rhythmic, calming, almost musical, and they lulled the tired and injured boy to sleep.

~~~

The boy awoke to his stomach growling. He groaned and stretched, then quickly pulled back as spikes of pain shot from his stomach and arm. He examined his injuries. The wounds had closed, but they had not stopped hurting. The boy's stomach growled again.

"I hear ya," the boy mumbled. He gingerly stood up, not wanting to put extra pressure on his injured limbs.

The boy snapped his head around as he heard the sound of something rustling in a nearby overturned garbage can. Without thinking, the boy sank down, his stomach fur brushing against the concrete sidewalk, and crept towards the sound. He sniffed. It was a mouse. His mouth watered, and his slitted pupils widened into large circles. He was inches from the garbage can now; all he had to do was wait for the mouse to come into view. The boy waited, ears alert, tail waving, and claws ready to extend.

The mouse peeked its head out of a paper bag, and the boy pounced. His claws wrapped tightly around the mouse, digging deeply into its body and tearing it from the paper bag. It squeaked and scratched in retaliation, but to no avail. The boy bit the mouse's neck, and it went limp in his jaws.

The boy ate his catch.

Satisfied with his meal, the boy began to lick the blood off his paws, but stopped. He stared at his bloodstained paws, eyes wide in horror and confusion.

What on earth did I just do?