The molly blinked, watching the two cats tussle in the grass. She smiled a sad smile, thinking back to a time when the fight would have been fought will claws sheathed and teasing name-calling. Now, she could hardly recognize their pelts that were crisscrossed with countless scars, some fresher than others.

She shut her eyes tightly and turned away, her heart aching something awful. She blinked up at a large broad shouldered tabby tom whose eyes glittered with interest as he watched the two cats tear at each others' pelts. "Toad, may I be excused?"

The brown tabby cast her a sidelong glance. "Are you not feeling well?"

"I just don't want to watch." She dropped her gaze to her paws, expecting the hard blow he delivered to her ears.

"You'll watch until it's finished," Toad growled. "And stop complaining. At least I don't treat you as badly as the other toms treat their mates."

That much was true. Their were a pawful of extremely lucky she-cats who had been assigned to kind-hearted, loyal toms who treated them as equals and never dreamed of harming them. But the majority of the toms treated their mates like slaves or mindless worms, cat who were unable to think for themselves or have differing opinions from their own. She-cats were not seen as equals, and hence, were treated very poorly. Many bodies were often strewn across the camp, and the dappled gray molly found it frightening that a good two-thirds of them were she-cats who had somehow managed to upset their mates.

"Mates." Such a terrible word for the Alley Cat's pairings of she-cats and toms. Yes, they were considered mates, but the term was not used to describe two cats who shared a deep bond. No, the word meant, for a she-cat, that you must bear your assigned tom's children every four seasons, or else you would be tried and thrown to the dogs.

The molly turned back to the center of camp. The two toms still shouted loudly as they ripped mercilessly at each others' pelts.

The larger of the two, who had a pale gray pelt, yowled loudly as the other tom dove under him and slashed at his belly. "You'll pay for that one," he growled, lunging at his opponent and knocking him backward. The she-cat winced as the smaller tom was thrust backward and landed with a bone-jarring thud against the rough brick wall of the alley.

Cats cheered and crowded around the gray tom. No cat was padding over to the defeated tom to see if he was still breathing, or to bury him if he wasn't. The gray molly shivered and turned away. The fight was over now, and she could finally retire to her nest.

She hardly got a wink of sleep, waking in a cold sweat with her heart racing every few heartbeats, replaying the horrible scene from the previous night over and over again in her head. She wished she could just erase the memory, get rid of it, but whenever she tried, another image would appear in her mind; two small cats, both huddled together beneath a window ledge, their pelts bushed with excitement and their eyes wide. A third cat sat a litttle farther back, behind the gathering crowd. Her soft dappled gray pelt was neatly groomed as she watched the two toms proudly with her chest puffed out. Her sons, her two strong, lovely sons, were finally becoming warriors.

How had it lead to this? She gazed out of the den entrance at the sky. It was the color of rich blueberry pie filling, dotted with brilliantly white stars and accented by a large, round moon. Its cool glow engulfed the alley with a faint purple hue, blanketing the sleeping camp in a comforting layer of calm. How could nature be so at peace when two brothers fought to the death earlier that day? Did the sky know of the injustice that was being served beneath its deep purple expanse? It was not just the battle that weighed heavy on her heart. It was the knowledge that what the Alley Cats practiced was not right. It was not fair or just. Their morals were not correct. Kings stood high and proud while slaves walked in their midst. Toms held their chins high and raised their claws against their "mates." This was wrong. All wrong.

But she knew there was nothing she could do to fix any of it.