Now ↷

   "Rise and shine, maggots."

   She lifted her head wearily, blinking to adjust her eyes to the dim lighting of the den. Well, if you could consider it a den. It was just a large cardboard Twoleg box that a few of the slaves slept under. A faint light seeped into the "den" where a large black and white tom had lifted it.

   "Role call." The cats slunk out of the den, their eyes hollow and their pelts ragged and clumpy. She winced as she realized she could count the ribs on every one of them, including her own. The black tom's mew drug her from her thoughts. "Alder?"

   "Here, Jag," a small dark ginger tabby croaked.

   The black tom curled his lip and, faster than any cat could react he flashed forward with a forepaw and swatted at Alder, his long claws unsheathed. The smaller tom hardly winced, despite the fact that blood was running down his cheek. "You'll address me as sir, and nothing else. Understood?" Alder nodded, and Jag grunted in satisfaction. "Now, Ivy?"

   A lanky tabby she-cat opened her mouth to speak, but a feeble cough cut her off. It racked her whole body, and one of her denmates had to dart over to support her. "H-here, sir."

   "Grime?"

   "Here sir."

   "Muffin?"

   The pale brown dappled molly stepped forward shakily. "Yes, I'm here sir."

   "Charlotte?"

   A white tabby nodded, shooting a glance at Muffin. "Here, sir."

   Jag continued with the role call, but Muffin was too deep in thought to pay attention. She stared blankly up at the sun, which had barely risen above the distant tree line. How did it come to this?

『••✎••』

Then ↷

It was a day like any other.

Or so she thought.

The first thing she noticed was off was that her Twoleg didn't come into the living room to let her out until the sun was almost at its peak in the sky. When the furless creature finally did, she darted outside, relishing the warmth of the sun on her pelt.

The second thing was that the Twoleg shut the door with her still outside.

Muffin whipped around as she heard the door swing shut behind her. She raced over to the clearstone door and pawed at it frantically, but to no avail. She shrugged and padded away. It's fine. My Twoleg will realize I'm out here in a few minutes.

But she didn't. First minutes passed, then hours. The molly was beginning to feel as though her belly would digest itself with hunger. Perhaps I'll try hunting, she thought.

The house cat titled her head back to scent the air, but only the familiar strong scents of the Twolegplace met her nose, mingled with the fragrant aroma of her Twoleg's garden. The garden! There's always some mice or birds hanging around by the berry bushes! She padded over to the far edge of the yard, her nose twitching curiously.

And an odd tang met her nose.

The third sign. A strange, musky, vaguely blood-tinted scent mingled with those of the yard. Perhaps it was a mouse, or a vole? She tried to brush it off, but she couldn't help her hackles lifting as she neared the tall wooden fence.

Muffin parted her jaws to taste the air, ignoring the odd stench. It was faint anyways. What harm could it do? It probably was just an injured animal.

But she was wrong. So very, very wrong.

『••✎••』

Now ↷

"Faster! Those burrs won't get rid of themselves!"

The pale brown she-cat winced as the tom struck her across the muzzle. Her fellow slaves murmured sympathetically as he sauntered away, but it was half-hearted, just like how they said everything. Not a spark of hope kindled in those cats. Their young, care-free days were long gone.

Some, if not most, of the slaves had been born into their class, to an enslaved mother and an enslaved father. Enslaved she-cats were never assigned to a tom of a higher class, as it was seen as dishonorable to the tom. Others of the slaves were criminals. Cats who were born into higher ranks but worked their way down by living lives of murder and greed.

But there was also another way a cat could become a slave. That's how Muffin had ended up in the Alley Cats. Capture. Whether from battle or simply being kidnapped from your own territory, many cats were brought to the alley with the sole purpose of living lives of back-breaking labor.

She sighed wistfully, looking up from her bloody paws at the sky above. The bright sun blazing in the cloudless blue sky brought her back to the day that had started her life of endless suffering.

『••✎••』

Then ↷

After trying and failing to catch a few small sparrows, Muffin gave up and leaped to the top of the fence. Maybe watching the sky for awhile will clear my thoughts, she glanced back over her shoulder at her Twoleg den. And my Twoleg will surely see me from up here.

She turned her gaze back to the sky. The sun shone brightly overhead, casting a warm glow over the garden. So peaceful—

Her thoughts were cut short by a suddenly rustling in the bushes on the other side of the fence. A few houses down, something was trampling through the greenery. Her eyes widened as it got closer. It's definitely bigger than a mouse...

She began to scramble along the length of the fence, trying to escape whatever was approaching. But as she sped up, so did the creature. Her heart bounding, she forced her stubby legs to go faster than they ever had before. She was almost the the edge of the next house's fence when something hard hit the back of her head. She froze for a heartbeat, her eyes wide with shock, before tottering over and crashing down into a prickly berry bush below.

『••✎••』

Now ↷

Muffin licked a paw and drew it over her bleeding ear. She'd received another sharp cuff from a tom-kit after scolding him for biting his sister.

"She-cats don't order around toms!" He'd growled, leaping at her and delivering the blow. It was a decently-sized injury for such a young cat, and it made her shiver to think about what the Alley Cats taught their children as young as three moons.

   Her friend leaned over, probably assuming she was cold. "Are you alright? I saw that Sting gave you a pretty nasty scratch."

   "I'm fine," she lied, wincing as she touched her bloody ear gingerly. "I just can't believe that they teach kits to behave like that."

   "She-cats are frowned upon here," Charlotte shrugged, grooming Muffin's once-silky pelt. "You did talk back to him."

   "Because he was shredding his sister!" Muffin hissed indignantly, her fur bristling. "His own littermate! He could have severely wounded her, or worse, killed her! And even if she lived, you know as well as I do that she and her mother would be blamed and put to death for complaining."

   The other molly paused, looking thoughtful. "Our morals are different here than they are where you're from."

   "At least cats where I'm from know that it isn't ok to toss defenseless cats into a Twoleg yard to be ripped to shreds by dogs!"

    "Speaking of the dogs," Charlotte interrupted. "I heard the biggest one died. Got hit by a car, according to Whiskers down by the dumpsters."

   Muffin flicked her tail and averred her gaze from her friend. "We shouldn't find joy in the death of a living, breathing creature."

   "I can bet that most of the cats here aren't finding joy in it. If the other dogs die too, they'll have lost a popular punishment and a form of entertainment."

   She snorted. "Entertainment. Do you enjoy watching cats get ripped into shreds? Because I sure don't, but maybe I'm the only cat here with any sense of morality!"

   "Foolish words."

   The two she-cats whipped their heads around. Muffin's throat went dry. Oh no...

   She was staring into the eyes a broad-shouldered black tom, whose yellow eyes were narrowed and devoid of emotion. King Boulder.

『••✎••』

Then ↷

   Muffin woke to a terrible pain in her... everywhere, but her head ached the most. What happened? She wondered, trying to adjust her eyes to the dim lighting. And as they did, her memory came rushing back to her. Her heartbeat sped up. Kidnapped. I've been kidnapped.

   She tried to stand, but a sharp pain shot through her paws and neck. She screeched, gazing in dismay at the tendrils of brambles and thorns that bound her forepaws and her neck together, placing her in a bowing position with her hindquarters raised.

   "You're awake," a voice boomed from above. She tried to look up, but another stabbing pain flashed on the back of her neck as the thorns dug deeper into her new bloody gash. "I am King Boulder," she almost heard the smirk in his voice, and she began to tremble violently. "Welcome to your new home."

『••✎••』

Now ↷

   The molly trembled violently. Cats' frenzied cries rang it around her, reminding her, once again, of the day she'd first been dragged into the Alley Cats' home.

   "And the trial begins."

   The pale brown she-cat took a deep breath and stared up at the large tom who sat atop the fence, meeting his gaze coldly and determinedly. The king smirked, then turned his gaze to the gathered cats. "Today we are here for the trial of Muffin—"

   "Let's just get on with it," the molly growled, loud enough for the others to hear as well. A few shocked murmurs met her words, and even fewer ones laced with admiration. "We all know this is going to end with me torn to pieces. I'm sure you haven't got all night, and I sure know I don't."

   King Boulder scowled down at her. "Then you plead guilty?"

   "You'd hear that even if I said otherwise."

   "Then I condemn you to death!"

   At their king's yowl, the cats began to chant. Muffin's heart rate started to speed up as four fully-grown cats approached her and began to circle her slowly, steadily speeding up their pace. "Blood! Blood! Blood! Blood!" The crowd hollered, pounding their paws on the asphalt in unison, keeping in time with the thrumming of the circling cats' paws.

   Muffin met the glare of her attackers evenly before the first one attacked. It was a dark brown tom who was known as Crumbs. She leaped nimbly out of the way of his pounce at the last second, sending him stumbling into trash bins with a loud clatter.

   "Is that all got—" her hiss was cut off as another cat, this one smaller and named Swift, sprang at her, fangs bared. As she prepared to dodge him too, he slipped skillfully under her belly, dragging his claws along her underside. She screeched as her legs gave out, leaving her laying on the ground in a quickly-growing pool of her own blood.

   The last two cats smirked and pounded in unison, thoroughly shredding the rest of her pelt. When they were finished, she imagined she would hardly be able to recognize herself under all the blood and scars.

   "Now bring her up here," Boulder ordered. Her attackers did as they were told and hoisted her up and over the fence. She sighed in mock defeat as they placed her on the top, her eyes blazing with determination.

   King Boulder smirked and loomed over her. "Any final words?"

   "Hope I see you in hell," the molly grunted, using her last bit of strength to swiftly haul the tom over the fence and right into the jaws of a huge black and brown dog. Then, she tottered over herself and embraced the cold touch of death with open paws.