I could see my prey's ears twitching through the tall grass, it was trying to listen for any predators such as myself. The only problem with the hare's thought, was that I could move deathly silent though the grass. I took out my claws, careful not to let them dig into the ground, beneath my paws. Yes, I am a cat, a puma, ready to attack in a heartbeat. My mind is clear and calm, undistracted from my prey. I have no remorse for any creature who dares to tempt my land, the hare is asking to be devoured. I can see it's beady eyes looking in my direction, scanning for any immediate danger. Unable to see me through the tall grass, I coiled up, ready to pounce, cautious to keep my tail still and low, as not to rattle the grass. I calculated as quickly as I could how long it would take me to get to the hare, which is only 30-40 feet away. I ended up judging that it should only take about a dozen leaps or so. Having figured this out, I sunk back down to the grown, weaving in and out of the grass, eyes locked on the hare. I stopped moving about seven feet from the hare. Again, I coiled into a ball of potential kinetic energy. I leaped, as I was about to sink my fangs into the hare, it was all gone.

Groggily I got up out of bed, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. I had another prehistoric dream. Always at the same place, with the same prey, and the same thoughts. I walked over to my bathroom, after splashing some water on my fur I felt awake and bristling with energy. My mind was no longer on my dreams, but instead on the day ahead, today was the festival. Last year I was too young to go, but now I am a cat, not a puny kitten.

Tonight's the night we fight, to find out who deserves the golden string. This golden string was discovered by the founder of our city, Gregory McCattifur. The golden string physically cannot be broken, haven been made of pure gold thread. Many stories have gone around about how it was made, but no one truly knows.

I have been training for this night since I was a newborn kitten, as soon as I could open my eyes, I had to throw my first punch. I am scared to fight, I have heard the horror stories and seen the conditions some have left the stadium in, but I will never admit that aloud. I am Alexander Firestar, the bravest cat of my age (at least this is what I told myself). I am a 2-year-old cat, with puma heritage, I have deep brown fur, and whiskey brown eyes.

We cats, aren't like the prehistoric cats, we're more like humans with fur, claws, tails, and pointed ears. The thing that the humans never learned though, is how to have technology and reserve their resources. We have even more advanced technology then humans, but we value tradition and family. We also live simple lives, you go to school/work, you come home spend time with family by the fire, and train to fight if you a boy, if you're a girl, you learn how to cook. No, we do NOT walk on four legs like our prehistoric relatives, I hate that misconception. Yes, that can get a little confusing with the dream I had where I was a prehistoric cat, but to be clear, we do NOT walk on four legs. Now that that's situated, we act like the humans did. I don't know what happened to them, no one want to share that info was any of us younger ones, I hope they're just in hiding.

Back to the now, I looked at myself in the mirror and I realized just how much I've changed, now I have scars, where I had perfect fur before, there are bags under my eyes, from stay up late studying for hours, mastering the art of fighting, there is now a permeant snarl where there once was a smile, bulging muscles from countless days lifting others out of the way. I have dedicated my entire life to this fight, I am going to win, I must.

After getting dress into my usual black tank top, black jeans, and black and white tennis shoes, I walked downstairs. My mom was already down there making breakfast, my favorite meal of two salmon strip, a piece of toast, and a glass of milk. Mhmm. My dad was almost done his breakfast drinking the last of his milk. When they noticed I had come down my mom gave me a plate of food.

Before my father left the room, he told me, "Eat up, then get a good warm-up in, but whatever you do, don't let us down."

Swallowing hard the lump that had formed in my throat from my nervousness. I said as confidently as I could after clearing my throat. "I would never."

"Good." He replied in his gruff deep husky voice.