Ruby in the dust[C]

Valley padded down the street, his pelt hidden by the shadows as he slunk past the few Humans still mingling about. His optimism about that place had slowly begun to fade as he realized that majority of the good land was already guarded by other cats. It was not a blessing that he had met Batswarm, of all cats, instead of some of the more aggressive ones. Suddenly, the tabby heard a shrill cry echo from the alleyway to his right. The fur along his spine rose. What was that?

Eyes narrowed, the tom headed for the source of the cry. To his surprise, the scent of blood reached his nose, followed by the familiar stench of a weasel. A growl rumbling in his throat, Valley threw himself forward to score his claws down the weasel’s face. The weasel yelped, surprised by the new attacker, and scurried away. Valley turned to face his new companion. A ginger tabby she-cat, heavily wounded, watched him through dazed and wary eyes. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. To his relief, the she-cat relaxed and nodded dizzily.

“What’s your name?” Valley ventured. “Grace,” the she-cat gasped. She looked up at the tom with panicked eyes. “My kit, Ruby…” and that was all she managed to say before she slumped over and collapsed on the ground. Kit? Valley looked around him. To his surprise, he did indeed find the small form of a red kit tucked deep in some old clothes. He glanced over at Grace, noting the stillness of her body. He signed. Looks like he would have to care for the kit now. Ruby, huh?