Hate, or Love? (Sequel to Me, or Her?)

Part 5: A True Lover's Heart

The distant chirping of birds reaches my ears from where I lie in the tree den. I slowly open my eyes and see that Scamp is still beside me in his own nest, his flank rising up and down rhythmically in his slumber. For the longest time, I stay still, my eyes staring at nothing and everything. A strange feeling engulfs me, a feeling of... emptiness? I feel like I am missing something inside of me, something I am missing in my life, but I have no hint as to what it may be. Only what was there has been replaced by numbness.

I close my eyes for a few heartbeats before opening them again. This time across from me, Scamp has opened his eyes, as well.

"Good morning," he greets softly, as if he either does not want to disturb the quietness or he is afraid that I will burst out on him again from a couple simple words. I truly hope it is not the latter.

I do not reply, only stare into his amber eyes with the same emptiness as before. But then that empty feeling grows deeper. It is as if there is also a longing for something.

Before I can put much more thought into the matter, however, Scamp gets up, shakes out his fur, and climbs out of the tree den. Looking back down at me, he asks, "Do you think you are well enough to hunt? I've been catching prey for you all this time; it'd be nice to see you in action for once." He looks away and then back at me. "Action in hunting that is."

Nice save. I give a soft huff of amusement and then follow him out. "Sure," I answer, "but this time I'll catch prey for both me and you. We'll share it."

He nods in agreement and motions with his tail to signal for me to be in front.

As I lead the way through the forest, I pay attention to any fresh scents of prey as well as the beauty of the forest itself. The soft rays of the morning sun reach down under the cover of leaves where it can in the gaps and offers more than enough light to make our way through the tangle of underbrush. The grass that brushes against our paws is wet with dew and leaves our fur slightly wet, but it is nothing compared to what happened last night. I'm thankful that my pelt is almost fully dry from my small dip in the river, save for some water that is stubbornly staying in my ear. The air is crisp and full of energy as everything that lives in the shelter of the trees wakes up and starts their morning routine.

My mind wanders for a bit from the hunt to me almost drowning last night. Yes, it is partially Scamp fault for bringing me to the river in the first place, but what if he hadn't rescued me from my peril? What if he had just left me to drown? Or worse, what if he had drowned with me? I glance back at the black tom and see that his eyes are unfocused, as if he is deep in thought like me. Is he thinking about last night, too? Or something more than that?

A faint trace of the scent of thrush reaches my nose and pulls me from my vivid questioning. I sense that Scamp does, too, and we both immediately get into our hunter mode. I soon find the thrush several fox-lengths away near some bracken fronds, pecking at the ground and searching for its worms. I crouch, and Scamp has the sense to stay low and quiet. Though I should expect it of him now, since he has gotten me my food since he tagged along with me three days ago.

Focusing on the thrush, I slowly and silently creep up on it. I do not have to worry much about my scent drifting towards it, as there is gratefully no breeze this fine morning. I stop when I am a few tail-lengths behind it and get ready to pounce, but then I think, why not show Scamp some of my hunting skills? My whiskers twitch in excitement at the thought of impressing this kittypet.

I waggle my hindquarters and pounce, but purposefully fall a whisker-length too short, and the poor bird jumps as it is startled and instantly flies up into the air. But as it gets almost two fox-lengths above me, I bunch my legs and push off the ground, jumping high up into the air. My outstretched claws snag the thrush's tail, and I manage to keep a hold on it as I fall back down. Slamming my paw onto the ground, I hear a crack as the impact snaps the thrush's spine, but I nip its neck to make sure it is dead. Picking it up in my jaws, I turn toward Scamp and raise my tail in success.