Season 1, Episode 2 of Mystic
I've been through a lot in my life. First, it's prejudice. As by some unknown factor, everybody here dislikes me. Maybe it is because my mother died before the age of my memory and my father died later.
Maybe it's because they don't like the way I look. I'm a dark furred cat with white stripes. They've never seen any cat like me. Neither have I.
The only way I can find a way to live is to believe.
You see, seasons upon seasons ago it was believed that there was a Mystic Flower when you needed it most, when your worries and struggles outpaced your happiness. They say that the Mystic Flower finds you, with it's red petals blooming towards you, giving you instant hope. I'd been looking for it all along, defying these rules. But a rogue is a rogue, and happiness and hope is something that is rarely found in a rogue cat's soul.
My name is Wintergreen, and I'm looking for the Mystic Flower. I'm looking for hope.
The sunlight filtered through the trees, giving the forest floor beautiful dappled markings but giving me a not-so-beautiful sleep. The sunlight kept me awake, like a bug you can't quite swat away.
I climbed out from under the undergrowth I'd bedded down in and set about to grooming myself.
The number one rule of being a rogue: the longer you wait, the more likely you'll die on that very same spot.
I forgot to find a safe area to groom and, unintentionally, tidied up my fur in the open.
I'd gotten to my last paw before something had me pinned by the neck.
At least that was an accomplishment. Last time I'd only done three.
"Get out!" A large, powerful black-and-white tom bared his teeth. "Before I make you."
The second rule of being a rogue: never show your weaknesses, even if you have no choice.
"Who's gonna make me?" I hissed back, trying not to notice the size difference between us.
He let me go; I slumped to the ground. Then, just as quickly, he swiped his paw, claws unsheathed, across my face.
"That'll teach you," he growled, then spun and stalked away.
Right. Time to get out of here.
It's funny how most cats seem to react when they first see me. It's like I'm alien. Well, maybe I am.
They always look at me funny, then narrow their eyes—and then comes the insults. If I don't oblige them the first time, the insults will turn into injuries.
Never as anything different happened before.
I carefully picked my way among the dense foliage, trying not to leave to much of my scent around. The black and white tom probably has a gang, I thought, and they take up all of this space. Twenty cats could thrive here! Then I shook my head. Enough complaining. You've got to do what you've got to do, and there's no telling it twice.
So that's how a rogue lives her life.
At least, her mornings.
I finally got to the other side, muttering curses and complaints under my breath. The forest dropped away on either side of me, and ahead of me the terrain turned grassy and trees were sparse. If any, they were shriveled up and sticking like a needle in the sky.
If I couldn't find cover in the forest, how would I find any cover here? I sighed. I would have to cross it. Maybe there was a rabbit burrow or cave which I could spend the day in. But I knew I was hoping for too much.
I had barely taken ten steps when a rabbit dashed by. Forgetting the task at hand, my survival instincts took over and my paws raced after it. I intercepted it after overtaking the rabbit and killed it with a neat nip to the neck.
I wasn't hungry. I would have to find the den to keep the rabbit until later.
I stumbled across the moorlands, tripping over random clumps of low-lying heather. Was it possible for any cat to live here? I thought not. But, because of the plentiful prey, it would be better to stay here before crossing. Besides, it seemed there were no cats living here at all.
Soon the rabbit started weighing my neck down heavily. I stopped to take a rest—
—and found myself looking directly into a hole burrowing deep which I had almost stepped into.
Curiosity won me over. I had to look.
I squeezed myself through, then pawed the rabbit through the hole as well, straining my paw until it ached.
The third rule of being a rogue: never assume your food is safe, unless you want to be deprived of a meal.
The tunnel opened up wider, allowing me to stand up tall, and then some. I took a few paces in, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. It only looked like a long dark passageway, nothing else.
I kept walking along. The air turned stale, and I could feel the pressure of earth pressing down on me, though roots of the spindly trees and bushes kept the dirt in place.
The tunnel opened into a larger, wider space. No light seeped in, however no creature could get in except for a cat. And I considered myself quite skinny, so to be sure, I was safe.
Pawing a little earth over my catch, I relieved my neck and looked around the place. The cavernous room was high, so high I could only see shadows. This tunnel must have really come down far, I thought. I tried to glimpse the walls, but they were all too dark. But I could see an even darker spot against it. Another tunnel? I strained my eyes harder than ever, but I couldn't see anything. Odd.
In fact, there was something odd about this whole place. An odd smell, like something familiar, but I couldn't put my pad on it. It alarmed me, but I decided to stay. I didn't know for sure the smell was a danger, and it's not like I could choose where to live. Odd.
Odd. My whole life was made up of oddities. It was all I could do to not turn into one myself.