Snowkit's Revenge



'' Prologue ''

It was dusk, and the stars were watching over the sky. Deep in the forest, the wing beats grew louder. The coarse feathers moved in the wind. Flying over the tall pines, the hawk’s struggling prey began to claw desperately at the scaly ankles. The bird began to make small circles, digging its sharp talons into the pathetic piece of fur. It landed on the ground, raising its cruel beak to finish the kit off.

A screech tore the air. With a panicked caw, it took off. Two dogs tore after it. The small kit raised a scarred face, as the Twoleg seized its scruff. Immediately, the two dogs came back, eager for a scrap of meat. The kit writhed, yowling. The Twoleg hissed something, and shoved the kit into a small, cobweb-like den, with only one side in light. The Twoleg’s harsh fur rubbed his coat, and the threatening smells from the hostile dogs made his fur bristle in fear. He began to mew. He wanted the closeness, and warmness of his mother’s coat. Then he was led, still crying into a stuffy Twoleg nest, where the Twoleg dropped him roughly. The dogs squirmed in their owners grasp, hungry. Suddenly, a new scent filled his nose. An older cat, an elderly fat tabby tom padded forwards. The Twolegs walked away, ignoring the bleeding of the kit, with the angry dogs.

“Hello, what happened to you?” rasped the male, a golden bell trilling softly form a blue collar loosely fastened round his neck. The kit continued to mew helplessly.

“Here” said the male, and picked him up lightly,” I know just the cat who’ll look after a kit like you”. The blood dripped onto the floor, making the kit go limp. Pushing his way through the Outside-hole he padded awkwardly across the garden. He paused, deciding whether to jump of the fence, or squeeze through it. With his heavy load, he pressed himself through the old wooden tree-like posts. He continued padding onwards. Meowing loudly, he waited.

Within seconds, a pretty brown tabby she-cat darted out.

“Henry, what do you want now? My Housefolk almost woke up!” she hissed, sharpening her claws on a nearby tree.

“Liar, they’re half deaf! Anyway, gotta get this to Princess, you ‘know, Rusty’s sister” he panted, his voice muffled.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, eyeing the dying kit.

“I’m too old to carry him all the way there. Just take him to Princess” he sighed, seeing her looking puzzled.

“Who?” she asked, confused.

“The light brown tabby? With white paws?” he said hopefully. Her amber eyes were deep in thought.

“Oh, the one who lives next to that dog!” she cried, then added angrily, “horrible yappy thing”.

Henry rolled his azure eyes.

“Just do it, Hattie” he begged tiredly. Hattie frowned.

“I’ll give you some prey from the dog’s bowls” he bribed. Hattie’s amber eyes lit up.

“Sure!” she said brightly. She picked the kit up, shuddering at the sticky blood on his side.

“Safe journey!” called Henry, disappearing into his garden.

“He better give me bowls of prey for this” she groaned, and after steadying herself, started.

A bird rushed out of the hedge, making her jump.

“So much for the shortcut” she sighed to herself. It had seemed easier just to skip through the forest, and now she was lost. Turning, she looked at the kit sadly. It already seemed dead. Then she heard something in front of her. The bush rustled.

“Hello?...” whispered Hattie, her mouth dry.

Then.....

A brilliant white tom stepped out. The stars shimmered on his pelt.

“I will care for him” he said softly. In awe, she dropped the kit.

“But... what should I tell Henry?” she asked, looking at the kit worriedly.

“He is safe” replied the male, his blue eyes gazing at curiously. He sounded as mystified as she was scared.

“And so are you” he added. Without another word, he picked up the kit, and walked back into the cover of the bush. Hattie watched the place where they’d vanished seconds before. Then she headed home. Looking over her shoulder, she sniffed, and began running away, belly to the ground.

Chapter 1

It seemed like nine lifetimes later. The sun blazing on his white pelt, yawning tiredly, Snowkit stretched, and then winced, as the wounds on his side stretched also. A tom came in, carrying several herbs in his mouth. Nodding politely, he set them down. Snowkit rubbed his nose at the cobwebs that swathed his side.

“When will these come off?” he asked, half to himself. Stormkit paused. He looked at Snowkit in confusion.

“Your wounds are better, but they will only heel in a long time” he mumbled to himself. Snowkit looked awkwardly. Both he and Stormkit were deaf.

Suddenly, a harsh smell, like crowfood, filled his nose.

Fearfully, Stormkit wriggled over to the entrance