CHEWINGPAW CHEWINGPAW
MUTT-GIRL
[ TRIGGER WARNING: Brief mentions of past animal abuse and parental abuse. Descriptions of blood and gore. Please read at your own risk! ]
The crunch of bones beneath an immovable weight. The violent rending of sinew from ligament. The dim light fading from of a life without repose.
In her dreams, Chewy was there again. That damned place, where the metallic stench of blood could never be washed from the stone walls - and neither from her grimly-cut form. Surrounded by Twolegs, their faces lie obscured by their own shadows. She would have thought they would mourn the dead-girl-walking, if not for the grating screeches and yowls that erupted from their too-flat maws. They reveled in it behind the thin wires of grey ivy tendril, cheered not for her nor for her opponent but for the sheer act of destruction. Desperation was an art, of which no sensible thought could be prescribed to it.
The same face met her, its own countenance more familiar to her than any bastard mother who happened to beget her. The hound's teeth glinted in the garish glow of the arena, like a guillotine that crooned her name, dared her to wander a little too far into its wanting jaws. Saliva spilled from its open mouth, almost childlike in howits tongue lolled agaist the weapons below it. In its eyes, she saw only an animalistic dullness, as if it hadn't a clue what it would do to her every night. Before it had the chance to jump, she jumped first. She ran with all of the strength afforded to her spindled limbs, as if she could broach through the binds of her fate, as though this time would be any different than the others. Clinging to the coarse wires of the gate that separated her from the Twolegs, the kitten attempted to scramble up to where she knew salvation awaited her. Fierce jaws slammed her against the wall, knocking the breath from her, and her will to survive had been ripped from her as easily as she had been from the side of the arena. If only I ran a little faster... If only I climbed a little higher... If only I were a little more deserving of a different life...
"GET AWAY FROM ME!"
Kicking outwards, her limbs caught upon soft bodies instead of cruel concrete. Eyelids flew open, bleariness of a restless slumber still lingering heavily upon her eyesight. The low-toned grumles of her fellow apprentices told her all that she needed, that she had returned to the waking world. Chewingpaw's head whipped upwards, eyes beset in some strigine madness, as though they were cast of rounded jewels of volatile sun-hue. Narrowed stares and scornful visages only met her, shrouded in the heavy gloom of the moonlit night. "W-What are you lookin' at, p-punk?" The apprentice's lip curled into a jagged snarl, as though her fangs were the scales of a serpent underfoot, a warning to those that dared reach for her slithering form. Batlike ears flattened at the sides of her skull, and she drew her ratty tail closer to her shivering body.
- Any apprentice can be the cat she just snapped at! Forgive the potential wonkiness I haven't written anything like this in a week or so oops
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