indentThere's a body on the edge of the river. Cold water laps against silver fur, the only movement from the motionless cat. The body is battered, covered in scars from long-healed burns and more recent clawmarks. The cause of death, though, surely lies with the river.
indentHow long must it have drifted downstream, to end up here? It's unusual to see those sorts of scars in the relative peace of the Twolegplace. Whoever this body belonged to must have lived quite a ways away. Were they one of the cats from the forest beyond the Twoleg homes, or did they come from even farther afield, from whatever lay beyond the dense canopy of oak and birch?
indentThere's a flurry of sound and movement. The cat, who had seemed so surely dead, begins to cough and heave. Water erupts from their gasping mouth, wetting the gravel they lay upon. The cat struggles to rise to their paws, managing only to prop themselves up on their elbows before collapsing uselessly onto the cold ground. A green eye opens just a crack, pupil flitting about before laying on the bystanding cat.
indent"You..." A raspy voice crawls it's way out of the cats throat, petering off before the sentence can finish. The cat watches intensely as it can from the doorstep of death itself.
The weather had continued to grow colder. Though it was warm in their home, Alfalfa enjoyed the cold, liked the way their breath plume in front of them as they explored. Every day he wandered a little further from home, despite the misgivings of their mother. None of their siblings liked to explore as much as him - or maybe just so often? He didn't bother to ask. Most days he just found himself padding along streets they'd never seen before, catching whiffs of scent after scent. They'd managed to befriend a good handful of the other cats in the neighborhood, which was fun. They hated dogs, but he supposed that was pretty standard. Hunting wasn't something that crossed their mind in any substantial way, though they did love following the sounds of rats skittering in the shadows. They mostly liked crowfood, though, which stunk, so he left them alone.
On this particular day, the sun was shining overhead, warming his back despite the chill of the air. They decided to pay a visit to the riverbank, a place they'd only explored once or twice before. It was just far enough away from home that they did worry their mother would be upset, and he didn't like to worry her.
They did their usual exploring routine: look around, sniff a bunch of stuff, let a Twoleg give him a quick scratch between the ears. One of the Twolegs offered him a morsel from their paw, but it smelled weird, so he politely declined and trotted off. They padded towards the water's pebbly edge, scanning the river for any signs of life. They'd never tried fishing before. Maybe it would be fun! There didn't seem to be many fish, at least not in the shallows at the edge. They reached a paw forward and touched the water. It was cold, but as long as they didn't go too deep... He padded in a few paces, just far enough for their paws to be submerged. A chill ran through his pelt. Still, they were committed, and continued following the river, looking for any sign of prey. Fixated as they were on fishing, they almost missed the wheezing, hacking cough of a cat a few tail lengths down from him. Lifting his head sharply, he took in the sight of a corpse attempting to rise from the dead, pelt scarred and soggy. They found themself pinned under the stranger's gaze, strong despite the frailty of their body. They managed to croak out a single word:
"You..."
Alfalfa cocked their head to the side. Was this... a live cat? Was it some kind of ghoul? Where was Oolong when they needed her! This seemed like the beginning of every scary story they'd ever heard. Though, it was daytime, so logic dictated it was probably actually just a very wet cat. Still, they opted to keep their distance.
"Um, yes! Me!"
They mewed.
"Are you okay? It's awfully cold to be swimming, dontcha think?"
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