Second Wind [Jax]

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[atrb=background,http://i47.tinypic.com/2h51hs2.jpg] A thin layer of now crusted the ground as Rami made his way over to the abandoned farmhouse, having left Alda'as sleeping in the tree hollow. He needed a little bit of time to think, to be wildly happy, now he wasn't going to be alone. Looking after a kitten wasn't going to be easy, but he didn't care; he had a new sister, someone to love, and, hopefully, someone who loved him in return! The grief for his sister was still there, but it was less of an ache now. Surely it wasn't a sin to have someone around to take his mind off everything he had lost? After all, if he hadn't been in the right place at the right time, she would have died. The musty smell of disuse that hug in the air made the young tom twitch his nose as he entered the small building. As with any of those he'd been in before, the things the humans had left behind were in decaying disarray; several chairs were strewn around the small kitchen area, only one out of the four being upright and intact. The others were little more than splintering pieces of wood that were joined together. All food that would have been in the place once was long gone, the kitchen cupboards ransacked and recked, the refrigerator dented, with its electrical cord chewed through by mice or some such rodent. An old sofa in one corner was still in a reasonably good condition, though it was torn, stained and had a family of mice living beneath it. Whiskers twitching, the Japanese bobtail crept towards it, hoping to catch a few of the tasty creatures to sate his hunger and satisfy Alda'as appetite as well. Reaching a clawed paw underneath the couch, he wrapped it around a small, warm body, pulling it, wriggling in terror, towards his mouth. he trapped another with his other front paw as he broke the neck of the first plump mouse and chewed it up.

[jax;]

The walls of the old farmhouse groaned in the strong wind of a deep winter morning. Broken flakes of snow drifted in through broken windows, settling on the dusty floor. Having had no snow since a foot or so dropped abruptly a day or two ago, what had accumulated had since crusted over on the top. Deep tendrils of ice spread outward from the dunes of powder, leaving the ground sparkling in the early light. Curled up on the fireplace mantle, overlooking the worn living room and the odd assortment of broken and tired furniture it held, Thatcher watched the sunrise with a half-cracked, almost disinterested eye.

A thick frost had coated his fur through the night, and if it were not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, most might think he had died from the cold. Sighing, his tail twitching slightly, the lanky tom let his eye fall closed. Snow always made him so tired. But he had to admit, it was nice to be by himself. The old farm was so lonely, out along the city limits, surrounded by a vast, white wasteland of snow; almost made for him. Yet just as he could feel the tug of deep sleep on his conscious mind, his peaceful solitude was intruded upon.

Snapping his one good eye open, Thatcher watched with diluted curiosity as another feline padded through the house. The first thing he noticed was the distinct lack of a tail; much like his own, this cat was given nothing but a little nub. His head rising up a little, his neck craning to get a better look, Thatcher shook off a bit of the frost that coated him. The tom that now reached under the torn sofa looked young; his body was slim, and above all lanky, as if the rest of his body hadn't finished catching up to his long, wiry legs.

For a small time, Thatcher simply sat atop the mantel, watching as the cat simply reached out and grabbed some of the mice that called the couch 'home'. At this, Thatch's brows furrowed. There were quite a few mice underneath there, but with such a harsh winter, he'd hoped one would only have to dip into those 'stores' when absolutely necessary. Standing up and stretching, the gray tom hopped off the mantel and onto a nearby armchair almost soundlessly. A small cloud of dust and decay exploded out, billowing in the brisk air behind him as he stepped over to the white tom. Why take two. He blurted, his voice deep and calm, if meant to be a bit intimidating. You only need one.

With this, his one, bright orange eye looked over the younger cat. With such a slim physique, it was highly doubtful that he really needed two mice to be satisfied for the time being. If he truly had one of those freak accidents of a metabolism, mice were hardly going to hold him off. Thatcher's tail stub twitched again as he silently stared at the other feline. He wanted to know who he was, and above all why he was here. Thatch had gotten away without coming into contact with anyone since that mute dog so many months ago. Surely there were other places this lone tom could have gone? Some young queen to chase after? A stupid adventure to risk his life on?

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[atrb=background,http://i47.tinypic.com/2h51hs2.jpg] In his gleeful state, Rami had failed to detect the fresh and stale scents of another tomcat. As he gulped down the last bite of mouse, the second meal limp under his paw, he detected a sound, extremely quiet, but there: before he could turn around, there was an audible whump as a nearby armchair exploded under the weight of another creature. As he turned slightly, he took in several things at once: the fresh scent of tom-cat, one older than him, and the tomcat himself - a fairly large specimen, larger than the young tom, and, curiously enough, his tail was nothing but a scut, not unlike Rami's own. He spoke, not quite accusingly, as he approached, his figure an imposing one, his voice matching his posture. He didn't know whether cats here were more or less territorial than ones he'd encountered before; a twinge of fear had him hoping that the older male wasn't going to try to kill him. The small, still-growing tom wondered briefly what would happen to his little adopted sister if he was killed. She wouldn't last long, that was for sure. So for her sake, if nothing else, he had to try to make it out of this alive. His eyes swept over the bigger stranger for a second time; he was definetely bigger and older, but unlike Rami's sister, who had been easily taken unawares, overpowered and killed by three adult cats, he was not unaware of the male's presence, and unless he had friends somewhere (which was unlikely, because there were no scents, fresh or stale, of other felines or canine, for that matter), it would take a while to be subdued by the tomcat. Ever the polite youngster, the white tom frose from his seated posistion, his legs shaking slightly. How had he been so stupid as to wander in here without checking whether it was already occupied? He opened his mouth to answer the grey tom, swallowing. His fear, as with any emotion he felt, was openly displayed as he spoke in a slightly trembling voice. "I-I have a kitten to look after, sir. I'm sorry for trespassing - for some reason I didn't notice or think to check whether this place was occupied." His scut-tail twitched anxiously; if he had a tail like most cats, it would be wriggling like a worm. For some, reason, though, he was urged to speak again - maybe it was rash, but he had young Alda'as to think of. "Uhm, may I please keep this, for my little sister?" He indicated the mouse that now lay between his front paws with his nose, his tones uncertain, his pale blue eyes darting to the older cat's face, meeting his orange eyes for a moment before drifting to the floor and his paws.

[jax;]

This one was afraid of him. At least he had healthy instincts for one so young; so many cats ran head on into danger, assuming nothing wrong could ever happen to them. His whiskers twitching slightly, Thatcher relaxed ever so slightly. The young tom knew his place at least, and held a healthy respect for those older and larger than he was. At the mention of a younger sister, however, Thatcher's eye narrowed. Why was he hunting for the sibling instead of their mother? Perhaps the mother was injured? Or gone? There had been word of a plague going around the city. The gray tom cringed inwardly at the thought of so many lives going to waste. So many young ones slipping into an endless sleep. His mind began to drift to days when he himself was small, but quickly snapped back to what was before him. Some memories were best left untouched.

Settle, child. This place is no more mine than it is yours. Though his words were meant to be calming to a degree, Thatcher's voice was still decidedly rough. How old is your little sister? He asked, his head tipping to the side as he looked at the young tom with vague curiosity. A small kitten would need food more often; one mouse would not last for long. Adding in the weather tossed at them so often, it would only get more difficult to go out and get food. A good place to store food nearby would certainly streamline everything for the winter. Normally one would begin work on such things before the snows hit, but it still was not too late to form a small one.

Settling his rump on the dusty floor, a board groaned somewhere deep and below. This one was smart, if he was able to keep himself and his sister alive thus far into the winter. It was rare to find such traits; he would make a fine tom when he was full grown, and had grown out of that childish stutter. His stub twitching, Thatcher let out a yawn, the waves of sleep still rolling off of him. He had been so comfortable up there; was it really worth having come down to set this youngster straight? Smart or not, it would all be for naught if he could not listen. So many creatures spent so much time letting their mouths run that they could not simply stop and listen to what went on around them. So many problems left to fester, so many hidden beauties overlooked, so much time wasted...

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[atrb=background,http://i47.tinypic.com/2h51hs2.jpg] Rami watched the older male carefully, allowing his tensed body to relax a touch when the stranger's did. He shifted his paws slightly, yet another way of displaying his nervousness. He really had no idea of how to treat strangers here, or anywhere, really. He'd always been taught to treat everyone respectfully; he'd been one of only two kits in his large litter to take that to heart. All of his other siblings seemed to think the world should be respectful to them, and they'd do what they wanted. It was uncharacteristic of him to be spiteful, but he couldn't help thinking that if they were in his position, they wouldn't have survived a week on their own, away from their parents. It made him consider: if he had a choice, would he go home? He felt as if he'd changed so much since his sister's death. Obviously, he'd become more independent. He had thought it would be so difficult adjusting to fending for himself, on his own, that he would die in the first few days. Luckily, that hadn't been the case; he could hunt for himself, and he found that his nervous, timid nature was an asset in many ways. It was something that he'd been teased for by his siblings and the other young cats in his clan, but it meant that he would instantly know if danger was near, if prey was near, if any living thing large enough to eat or to hurt him was near. The large grey tom's words were reassuring, even in the less-than-friendly tone he seemed to favour. The small white tom allowed his body to un-tense a little further, as he ventured, "B-but it's more your place than mine. You were here first, evidently, sir. Not that I came here for anything but to h-hunt." He wasn't quite babbling out of fear, just releasing tension, so the words came out slightly too fast. The stammer that had haunted his younger days was evident, too, though. He frowned at himself for a moment, wishing he could control his voice better. Or whatever it was one did to stop oneself from stammering. The older cat's interest in Alda'as sparked something in him, and he smiled at the thought of her. "She's only a few months old, sir. She's my adopted sister, you see; I found her on her own a couple of days ago, and I think she would have died if I hadn't found her." His suddenly cheerful smile faded slightly. She couldn't die. Not like his real sister. He knew that it would be hard, keeping both of them alive through the winter, but he was sure he could do it. Prey was scarce, but he made the rule to let her feed first if he only found one piece of prey. He glanced around the room, most of his fear gone now; only the nervousness and awkwardness that was usual for him when meeting strangers remained. This would be an even finer place to spend the winter than the cozy hollow where he and Alda'as sheltered in at the moment. However, if the grey tom was planning to stay here, he probably wouldn't want two younger cats annoying him. The Japanese Bobtail wasn't sure whether he was just a bit grumpy, antisocial, something else entirely or all three. Remembering his manners suddenly, and feeling that it was strange to have a conversation without each tom knowing the other's name, he spoke again, quietly. "My name's Rami, by the way, sir. What's yours, if you don't mind my asking?"

[jax;]

Thatcher's eyes narrowed slightly, but in a non-threatening manner. If anything, should the young tom notice the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth, he'd realize it to be a tiny smile. The stutter was endearing, to say the least. The young cat had a good head on him, even if he was a little on the overly hopeful side. How could he possibly keep the younger one alive through the winter? Thatcher. He said, tipping his head in an informal way of greeting. Yawning, Thatch turned himself sideways so he could stretch again, his stub twitching in the cold air as he reached forward and then stretched out his back legs. If his sister was really so young, it would be safer to keep her inside; higher chance to get visitors, but it was warmer, and if you knew where to hide, safer. There was almost always a source of food nearby. The mice inside would quickly deplete, but just outside there were birds to catch and other small animals to hunt.

Looking to the broken window, small flakes floated inside, settling neatly on the floor, surrounded by more snow. Thatcher's breath hung heavy in the air, a thick mist in the cold. This house would be more suited for the two of you than anywhere nearby. Plenty of prey, shelter, room to practice hunting. His head slowly turning to face Rami, his eye seemed to tear the tom apart. Thatcher could understand his youth playing a role in this whole mess, but it was also admirable that he'd step up to the plate. Not many youngsters took charge like that. Not many even gave Thatcher quite so much respect. I can show you a safer place upstairs; you might have to carry your little sister at some parts, but it should keep her out of harms way. As he spoke, Thatcher turned towards an open door way where a dilapidated door hung lop sided on its hinges. The very base of a stair case peeked out around the corner; upstairs were several rooms, and even further up was a small attic, no bigger than a small kitchen. The first flight of stairs was still intact, but the second was so worn, anything larger than a cat would likely break the steps.

Stopping next to the door, he craned his neck forward, sniffing and glancing around a bit. One could never be too careful. In a world where everything was much bigger and stronger than you, one could never be too careful. Pushing on without even hesitating to see if Rami followed suit, Thatcher began effortlessly hopping his way up the stairs, only light thumps and groans a sign of his passing. Little swirls of dust took to the air, floating in the vague rays of light that managed to find their way in. Despite the sun, it would still be cold throughout the day. The farther up they went, the warmer it would be, even if only a bit. Heat rose to the top of everything, and while there wasn't much in the house to keep it there, the attic was the safest, and warmest, place to stay.

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[atrb=background,http://i47.tinypic.com/2h51hs2.jpg] The young tomcat's gaze drifted back to the other male's face, blinking timidly. He smiled back, his own fractionally bigger and far more shy. When he was told the tom's name, his smile widened slightly. "If you don't mind me saying, sir, I think it suits you." It did, somehow. The initial air of aggressiveness, (or maybe just grumpiness), and his brusque but not unkind manner; it described it all. The thoughtful young tom had an interest in names, for sometimes he had met creatures with ones he thought didn't fit them at all; sometimes he met some with names that he'd never heard before and could not pronounce. He rather liked his own name, and its meaning, even if some of the other cats his had teased him for it. Alda'as's name had been a particular point of interest of his, but he had yet to discover what it meant. Following Thatcher's gaze to the window, he watched the snow drift inside, knowing that he had better get back to his adoptive sister sooner rather than later. He wished he'd brought her with him in the first place, really. He watched his breath appear as fine mist in the cold, turning back to Thatcher as the larger tom spoke. He nodded in agreement, ice-blue eyes shining with gratitude. "I - I really can't thank you enough, Thatcher. My hunting skills were just barely adequate for me alone, but with another to care for, we've gone hungry to often, so far." It was true, more or less - it had been about a week since he had met Alda'as, and only three of those days had been ones where he had caught enough for them to share. The other four, he had either found nothing at all, or only caught, for example, a single mouse, which he had given to Alda'as. The logic of feeding order in such situations, Rami knew, was that the one supplying the food should make sure to eat when food was available - otherwise there was a higher risk of him starving, and the little toyger starving because he would be to weak to provide her with food. However, he hadn't come anywhere near starving so far, and with Thatcher's offer, it would be extremely unlikely that either he or his tiny charge would come anywhere near dying of hunger. The small, white tom twitched uncomfortably under the older tom's intense gaze, but his tentative smile did not falter. He got up to follow Thatcher, murmuring, "Thank you," fervently. Stopping just behind him, he gazed around and up the stairs. One or two of the buildings he and the group he had grown up in had contained stairs, but none of them had been as long as this one. He stared for a moment in wonderment, stale scents of more mice, other creatures, and dust meeting his nose. It took it a moment to realise the other cat had moved on, and, shaking his head, the young male hurried after him, treading as lightly he could on the stairs, almost as if he was walking on eggshells. He sneezed loudly as particles of dust tickled his nose, noticing the change in temperature as they travelled upwards. He marvelled at how spacious the house that, at first, had seemed to be no bigger than a single-storey cottage. "It's so big," he whispered, eyes wide. OOC;; Sorry that this post is so terrible! x.x