Starvation [Open]

[halcyon]

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[atrb=background, i30.servimg.com/u/f30/11/10/33/77/ivoryt11.jpg] One more day, waking in the middle of the streets. Inside the city, different kinds of cats were living, just as Ivory did. The majority of them were loners. Although some cats were accompanied by females or by kittens. Ivory was part of the loners. He didn’t need anybody to help him. The cream colored male yawned and stretched himself out at full length. Nonchalantly, he moved, forcing his legs to walk … going absolutely nowhere though. It was his instinct that encouraged him to go forward, in search of anything that could be eaten. A little bird, perfectly balanced on an old and crumbling banister, looked down at Ivory and chirped. It was as if the sparrow wanted to taunt the cat: hey there! You wanna eat me, don’t you? Piiih, you never will! Ivory could almost hear this tasty meal talk to him. He licked his chops and meowed desperately. Bloody bird! The Ragdoll continued his trip to find something else to eat. Something a bit more accessible this time. He finally found another cat, a little female that seemed alone. She was skinny and hungry, voraciously devouring a small piece of flesh. Perfect! Exactly what Ivory needed … The big male gently came close to the female and asked her, with a warm and confident voice: “Hello. May I join?” The female looked at him, slightly frightened. Her eyes were open wide and she hurried to swallow up the food she was eating. Without answering him, the skinny cat put in her mouth a bigger piece of the dead prey, as if she wanted it to disappear before someone else would come to steal it. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m not here to harm you …” No, I just want the prey, Ivory thought for himself. Although he wouldn’t hesitate killing the cat in the process. Besides, it would be something more to eat. The male was starving and he would be doing anything to taste the delicate flesh that made him salivate.

[sorcerer]

The young cat, barely old enough to not be a kitten, wasn't much on these streets. Sure, being one of Shyster's many sons meant something to some people, but not to others. As in, anyone who'd been around for a while knew his mother by reputation, and newer cats and dogs..not so much. Brandon was not overly concerned. He'd make his own name. After all, he was bigger than everyone else.
The striped tom strolled along the empty street, doing his best to look big and tough and unconcerned with anyone else's opinion. This was, after all, his block. Or his mother's, anyway. Whichever. He was allowed to be here, and other people could live with it and hide in the shadows. Brandon flicked his tail, smiled to himself, and stopped suddenly. He sniffed twice. Something was up. Some cats, to be precise, a couple of loners, on his block. Well, his mother's block. Same thing.
He'd deal with this and then Shyster would be happy with him, for once. Maybe. He would try.

He took another sniff of the air, thought he could tell where these two punks were at, and headed for an alleyway blocked up by old debris. Sometimes loners hung out there, like they thought he and his siblings couldn't find them. Well, once that was true, but not anymore. A month or two ago, Brandon had chased a small dog from out of there, and now he checked that area every day.
The tom paused when he got close to the alleyway. Nothing. He frowned and turned around, trying to figure out where these two cats were, and what they were doing here...
Then a voice spoke up, from the other side of the pile of old trash cans and boxes that filled the mouth of the alley. For a minute, Bran thought it was talking to him. He twitched slightly, stared around, and suddenly realized that the two cats had met up.
Judging by the tone of the male voice, they didn't know each other. Brandon took a deep breath, gathered himself, and hopped up on top of the barrier.

He landed quietly and frowned down at the scene below him. A big male, and a small female. From the looks of it, the male planned to take the female's food. Brandon's fur fluffed up slightly as he considered how to handle this.
His mother would probably tell him to chase both of them off, but the female was kind of pretty, and Bran didn't meet all that many pretty cats around here. The male was old and nasty-looking, too, so clearly he needed to chase him off before something bad happened. Rescue the female, be all suave and stuff, instant girlfriend.
Brandon was a genius.

He hopped theatrically off the top of the trash pile, fluffed his dark fur out, and cleared his throat at the male.
"I'm going to need you to leave."
Brandon was quite certain he could take this long-haired stranger in a fight.