Going Rogue
May 14, 2022 18:03:49 GMT -5
Post by catsmaug on May 14, 2022 18:03:49 GMT -5
Ahh.... yeah. I don't have a lot of experience doing this, so, don't expect greatness, hah.
(I have never read the books, this fic is based purely off the game)
---
The life of a clan cat is full of challenge. Mice are speedy and squirrels speedier. Foxes, badgers, and whatever else wanted to eat you was never far away. Clans are busy, there is always work to do, often tedious or dangerous work. Patrolling, training, fending off a neighbour for the third time that week- But as a clan cat, you always have your clanmates by your side. You're never really alone.
The story is far different for a rogue.
Born wild, stray, abandoned, runaway- all different flavours of the same thing; a scruffy cat scrounging for the next scrap. A rogue is just about the same as an empty can. You see one lying in the street, maybe you accidentally kick it and think "Oh, what a nuisance," before cursing at it, or forgetting entirely. In some cases, maybe throwing a glass in it's general direction, or letting the dog have a go to chase it up a tree. A rogue has no clan. No family and no home.
Clan life is hard, but the rogue life is harder.
No matter what all those pampered furballs in their colonies say, with their bramble walls and piles of prey. Praising a sky that always shone on them.
That was why Hollygore left, running, screaming.
---
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Some rouge's only had a vague idea of clan life, or even of clan cats at all.
When it was found that the Windclan medicine cat had had an affair with the Deputy, the resulting kittens were quickly disposed of. Through much crying and pleading, the poor she-cat convinced her fellow felines to let one kit survive. That little kit was dragged far from the clan as soon as it could walk and then left astray. It would surely die soon.
Snownose doesn't remember much about his mother. He remembers her black and white coat, and her cries for him to be spared.
A young stray she-cat had found him on the road where he had been left and decided to carry him 'home' with her; to an abandoned barn in the marsh where she and a few other outcasts took shelter. He was raised there, among a few other kits, taught to hunt and run. Mostly to run. Stray dogs were common.
It was a miracle he reached adolescence.
He can't remember his siblings, all dead before he could know them but sometimes he dreams of his mom. Is she okay? Is she even still alive?
Does she miss him?
He thinks this, hidden away in a vicious tangle of shrubbery, grooming his mate, Dark, as she coughs and shivers. In a tiny den on the other side of the forest, far away from the marsh.
Rouge life is a hard life, with little to look forward to. But maybe there's hope for these pitiful creatures. On one, foggy morning...
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(I have never read the books, this fic is based purely off the game)
---
The life of a clan cat is full of challenge. Mice are speedy and squirrels speedier. Foxes, badgers, and whatever else wanted to eat you was never far away. Clans are busy, there is always work to do, often tedious or dangerous work. Patrolling, training, fending off a neighbour for the third time that week- But as a clan cat, you always have your clanmates by your side. You're never really alone.
The story is far different for a rogue.
Born wild, stray, abandoned, runaway- all different flavours of the same thing; a scruffy cat scrounging for the next scrap. A rogue is just about the same as an empty can. You see one lying in the street, maybe you accidentally kick it and think "Oh, what a nuisance," before cursing at it, or forgetting entirely. In some cases, maybe throwing a glass in it's general direction, or letting the dog have a go to chase it up a tree. A rogue has no clan. No family and no home.
Clan life is hard, but the rogue life is harder.
No matter what all those pampered furballs in their colonies say, with their bramble walls and piles of prey. Praising a sky that always shone on them.
That was why Hollygore left, running, screaming.
---
Some rouge's only had a vague idea of clan life, or even of clan cats at all.
When it was found that the Windclan medicine cat had had an affair with the Deputy, the resulting kittens were quickly disposed of. Through much crying and pleading, the poor she-cat convinced her fellow felines to let one kit survive. That little kit was dragged far from the clan as soon as it could walk and then left astray. It would surely die soon.
Snownose doesn't remember much about his mother. He remembers her black and white coat, and her cries for him to be spared.
A young stray she-cat had found him on the road where he had been left and decided to carry him 'home' with her; to an abandoned barn in the marsh where she and a few other outcasts took shelter. He was raised there, among a few other kits, taught to hunt and run. Mostly to run. Stray dogs were common.
It was a miracle he reached adolescence.
He can't remember his siblings, all dead before he could know them but sometimes he dreams of his mom. Is she okay? Is she even still alive?
Does she miss him?
He thinks this, hidden away in a vicious tangle of shrubbery, grooming his mate, Dark, as she coughs and shivers. In a tiny den on the other side of the forest, far away from the marsh.
Rouge life is a hard life, with little to look forward to. But maybe there's hope for these pitiful creatures. On one, foggy morning...
