//Un//marked

// chapter 15 //

Dewpaw woke cold and shaking, the pungent warmth around him doing little in the cold morning breeze that had slipped into the tunnel. Cracking his eyes open he found frost clinging to his whiskers. Outside, the sky remained dark and cloudy.

The little tom curled himself up tighter, seeking to save any last vestige of warmth. But the wind only blew more forcefully, as if trying to drag him out of the tunnel. He ignored it; where would he go even if he did leave?

An image of the alley cat camp sprang into his head, the warmth of the abandoned nest and the safety of the greenery, a tiny personal forest just for their use.

It's so hard being a mother to a kit I never wanted. The memory jolted Dewpaw upwards and his paws moved to the entrance of the tunnel of their own accord, leaving behind the ghostly words.

His nose was met with wetness, his whiskers with cold. Below him, the river had ceased to move, ripples and waves frozen in place. It was no longer snowing, but the drifts surrounding the tunnel entrance told Dewpaw that it had snowed all night. Shivering growing worse, he pawed at the snow, part of him gleefully watching it crumble beneath his claws. The other part of him just wanted to sleep.

Finally, he battled his way out of the drifts and found himself at the end of the bridge. It was narrow but tall, probably not meant for many Twoleg monsters. On the other end he could just make out the silhouette of what appeared to be an abandoned Twoleg den. Glancing about, Dewpaw made sure the coast was clear before setting out across it. His paws burned, the bridge's ice-slicked surface shooting tendrils of cold through his body. He sneezed, shaking his head vehemently to clear out the sudden dizziness. Paranoid that a Twoleg monster might creep up on him, he stuck to the edges of the walkway, even though it meant fighting his way through more snow.

The closer he got to the end of the bridge, the more his sense of unease grew. Eyes fixed on the Twoleg den he soon realized it was not that at all. Instead, a pervasive scent slowly filled the air, a mixture of bitter and sour that made Dewpaw want to gag. When he reached the end of the bridge he saw that the Twoleg den was nothing more than a pile of rag-tag Twoleg items, stacked so high he couldn't make out the items at the top. Beyond, a mountain range of rubbish stretched as far as he could see.

The sound of whirring suddenly hit him, then the piercing screech of a horn, and Dewpaw turned just in time to see a giant monster heading straight for him. Yowling in fright, he threw himself to the side, limp leg just skimming the side of the monster's giant paw. He landed in a nasty-smelling pile of crowfood.

Too scared to move, he crouched, watching as the monster tipped its back, the contents spilling out to form another mountain. It then retraced its steps to the bridge and disappeared down its length, growling the whole while. The tom stared after it in disbelief.

Despite the pungent scents hitting him, his stomach growled, and he realized he had not eaten since the day before. Looking about he thought that surely there had to be something in one of these piles that wouldn't make him sick; one whiff of the air made him think otherwise.

Still, Dewpaw's hunger drove him to approach the newly created mountain. He sniffed tentatively, recoiling as the rottenness hit him. Yet, somewhere beneath the penetrating scent lay the promise of something more fresh and meaty. Taking a deep breath, Dewpaw plunged into the mountain.

He brushed past slimy peels and rotting greenery, wet wood and scraping wires. Now and then he saw something frightful out of the corner of his eye, but he never let himself look too closely. Nuzzling into the pile of crowfood, the smell of freshkill grew.

Before he could find its source a terrible pain spread through his tail and back. Digging his claws into the refuse, Dewpaw attempted to keep himself grounded but whoever was pulling on him was stronger. The tom found himself back out in the light, surrounded.