"Really. Why not?" He thought aloud, his head tilting as he stared at the tall fence separating the forest and the twolegplace.
Chip had heard the stories, from passing wanders to other house cats. Some told of bloodthirsty wildcats with matted fur and bloodshot eyes, happy to tear apart the lost wanderer. Others told of clans caught in dramatic conflict, a constant war in the forest over food and territory as they commit constant bloodshed. His favorite though had been the ghost stories. Malevolent spirits speaking down from the stars, sending fire, flood, and famine upon the clans and pushing the bloodshed forward.
Though, through all these stories, as tall as some may seem, Chip had come to one conclusion. They hated housecats. Or at least something about them.
He enjoyed the life of a housecat, fed regularly, plenty of chances to wander around, and a comfortable place when the rain falls or snow comes around. Sure, it could be boring at times, and maybe he would wish he didn't have to come back before the housefolk became upset, but it was nice. And then the food.
He scrunched up his nose, the idea of eating a mouse disturbing him. Sure, the food the housefolk gave him usually wasn't great, and pouncing on the occasional mouse was fun. But to eat it... it didn't sit well with him.
"Nor would it stay down to well either..." He had heard from quite a few wanderers that it was much better than the 'Foxdung' housefolk feed him (he doesn't disagree with that description, although nor does he know what a 'Fox' is), though he suspected it was just a matter of preference, and his wasn't on par with them.
All of this, he couldn't have been more different than the clan cats. But despite that, he didn't feel afraid, only curious. He had heard stories of war, battles, clans and ghosts, from so many wanderers that seemed to either despise or fear them, and in front of him, in that forest with a single fence standing between them was the truth, the whole story laid out for him, the truths and the myths all there behind that fence, begging him to come and seek them out. All he had to do was jump down and look.
"..." He looked back towards his housefolk's den. It was about his age when they took the others to see the cutter. Sure, being that relaxed didn't sound to bad... but he wouldn't have a chance to do this once he went, would he? Lazy and fat, fed happy and keep calm for the rest of his life. As fun as that sounded, he might as well sate this curiosity before he didn't care much for it later on. One adventure before then. What was the worst that could happen?
He stretches and hops out of his housefolk's garden, padding slowly parallel to the fence on the non-forest side as he stared wandering at the ground.
"I guess to start, I need a Rat..."
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