A Cat Cannot Cry [Vi]

[SORCHA]

There was not much left of the muskrat the black cat’s jaws sawed through. She had taken her time watching the juicy prize fuss through the groundcover, and with patience and experience Sorcha had caught her dinner. On the border between her home Ring - the Fulsi, and their comfortably conquered territory – No Man’s Land, Sorcha had taken to hunting here quite often. Few trespassed here, and she liked the solitude. Her stomach rumbled as it took in and began to digest the fresh meat, bone, and fur of the little rodent. It had been longer than usual since she had been able to steal away and hunt for fresh meat. These days, her obligations in the Fulsi were more taxing than she cared to be responsible for. However, irritated with having a member of their Ring that did little for the group as a whole, while existing in the sheltered protection their strong group afforded, the Ring leaders had made it quite clear that she would no longer be tolerated without paid dues … and so she paid. In blood. Not her blood, but the blood of those returning from missions, scouting trips, and hunts; Fulsi who got in fights, had accidents, the moron who thought he could shift fast enough and ate concrete, and a myriad of injuries and illnesses that she tended and cared for in the building she privately called, ‘Flodden’. The Battle of Flodden was a largely unremembered Scotch invasion that had taken place in northern England in 1513. As far as soldiers, it was the largest battle ever fought between Scotland and England and considered by many to be an exceptionally bloody and savage mêlée. She had written one of her college pieces on the subject for history, and had quite forgotten it until she’d stood in the doorway of the Flodden the first time and surveyed the damage. Half of their Ring was broken and bloodied from defending their border to the south. She’d not yet seen the Kraken, but witnessing its damage was just as traumatizing in its own way. Where once the Fulsi was one of the strongest and greatest in number, it had dwindled in members recently and they were feeling the hurt. Sorcha certainly did. More came back injured than in one piece, and though there were many that could bind a wound there was always work to do. Bandages, sutures, stitches, gathering herbs for infections and illness, wood for fire, boiling laundry, sterilizing utensils and tools, soothing those who were sick or dying. It was exhausting. There was no medical school in the world, not even Oxford that could prepare someone for the Medic Field Work in The Menagerie. Now, it was peaceful – quiet. The sun was setting, and the small black cat blinked large sea blue-green eyes at the world in sated contentment. The sky was a light blue that melded into a sweet, creamy orange on the horizon. Sorcha had settled on the raised end of a teeter-totter in the schoolyard not far from the overgrown football field she had been hunting in earlier. She breathed in the fresh scents of twilight, and … she was airborne. Teeth clamped hard and would not let go, forcing a high pitched squall from Sorcha that echoed across the playground and resounded off the walls of the school. Her spine screamed and her world careened as she was shaken back and forth, back and forth. A snarl reverberated in the beast’s body that she could feel in her bones, and pain shot through every part of her as she was suddenly slung to the ground with jarring force. A large paw pressed against her ribs to pin her down as hot and rotten breath fell from between the jaws of the dog that immediately grabbed the fur at her middle and pulled as if to wrench her insides out. Her own sharp claws wrapped around muzzle, legs, eyes, and nose in desperate defense as she hissed and spat. At last when her needle-sharp teeth sank into the canine’s ear, he cried out in pain and released her. There was no thought, no plan; once free she darted across the playground, under the knocked over slide and through a hole in the fence. The dog followed in hot pursuit, almost catching her tail as he dove after her through the fence and raced behind Sorcha across the field. Her small pads hit the craggy blacktop of the street that led toward the Freeway and she sprinted as fast as she could. She wasn’t thinking. There was no shelter this way, nowhere to go and nothing to do but run. She experienced the superlative moment when the body pushed the agony away, when trauma and high adrenaline caused blood flow to change, and pushed past ripped ligaments or torn flesh, broken bones, or collapsed lungs. Shock: the body’s defense against certain death. The dog might as well have been named Reaper, for if he caught her … he was indeed her death bringer. She was halfway across the bridge and, sighting an abandoned vehicle dashed beneath it. There she curled in the very center beneath the car, and it was not but a moment before the dog’s head appeared, trying to force his way under the car. God be thanked, his shoulders were too broad. Now that she was not trapped in his teeth or running away from him, she could see his shift form was of a German Shepherd mixed with the Lord knew what. His shining brown eyes were wide with excitement, his black and tan face pinched in an excitable expression as he whined and dug and clawed as if the black top would give way beneath his paws. Fortunately, it did not. Sorcha was trapped beneath the car for a long, long time until finally the dog lay down by a tire to wait her out. ~ Crickets chirped, and the wind was cold and strong. Midnight had come and gone, and aside from the few abandoned cars, there was nothing to keep the frigid gusts from slipping beneath the car to steal the heat away from Sorcha’s battered body. She hurt. Hurt more badly than she could remember. She remained curled in a tight ball, so small she would have fit in a shoe box. Her back hurt fiercely, and she was positive she had some considerable wounds. One eye was not focusing, and there was a deep ache in her hind leg. A cat cannot cry. Sorcha was grateful. Otherwise, she would have been sobbing for the agony. She’d been hurt before, but this was a new level of pain she had only heard described to her by patients, or read about. It was going to be a long night. ~ Sunlight crept into her eyes, and she could see the dog had gone. Perhaps he had grown tired of waiting for her, or being exposed in the cold had been too hard on him. She had to move, she had to go somewhere else that she could shift and assess her injuries. She was a med student, not a vet student – and while some things were translatable, she would always be more certain assessing humans than animals. Herself included. It took a long time between foggy-eyed checks and weary pauses, but eventually Sorcha got herself out from under the hunk of metal and began the painful walk. She was exhausted and disoriented, every step her body cried out for her to stop but she didn’t. It had only taken a few strides for her to realize her hind leg could not tolerate even her lithe weight, and she hitched it up as high as her spine would allow and tried not to use it. The sun was high by the time she had gotten off the bridge. Had she really run so far? She wished she were home and safe, or hungry and had stayed at home. Even dead might have been better. Loosely her mind formed the memory when last winter the cold and exhaustion had taken her, and a strange man had demanded supplies in trade for the warm fire she had slept by for no more than an hour. The fact that he had been squatting on Fulsi territory seemed to matter little to him. Even then, cold and sick as she was she had at the very least not experienced this sort of pain? She could not have said where she was when her body quite unexpectedly and irrefutably quit on her. Her legs would no longer work, and it was too hard to breathe. Deciding to take a break, Sorcha crawled inside a milk crate against a chain link fence that bordered a park field. Where was she going, anyway? Why was she going there? Maybe I should have gone the other way, was her final thought before she fell into darkness.

[VI]

Vi had been doing well since leaving the Carna, the chaos that had come from the Alpha and Beta being found dead too much for her so she packed up the few things she had and headed first towards No Man's Land before turning east towards the heart of Retromorph territory. She had found, what seemed to be, an adult sized tree house hidden beneath the veil of a willow tree, nestled in its branches and secured to the trunk quite nicely. She rejoiced in the find and staked claim for her own, slowly building upon the base from scraps and things she found at different drops, mostly adding on small things for herself and doing her best to camouflage the place.

She found her hand idly coming up to brush the three slash marks on the outside of her upper arm that marked her forever as a member .. well ex - member. She sighed heavily as she paused in her small hunting expedition, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand she looked ahead of her to the fence that stretched across her path and she made her way closer, her eyes scanning everything and anything to find things of use. Her brow furrowed as she stooped down next to the fence, sifting through a crate mostly filed with papers and a few glass bottles, which she swiped into her bag, before going to move the milk crate next to her and pausing when there was some weight to it. She leaned over to peer into the crate and her eyes widened in surprise at the sight. "Oh baby kitty...," she murmured as she eyed the curled up lump of fur, almost surprised once more when she heard a soft mewl and the felines one good eye slitted open for only a moment before closing again. It was alive?? She had seen many carcass of domestic animals about, but she had never found one alive ... well .. mostly.

She moved to stand, balancing the crate on its side carefully so as to not jar the felines body. She couldn't tell yet, but it looked like the back or middle was the worst; like it had gotten bit or grabbed by some predator. She watched the slow rise and fall of the little things breathing before she brought the crate to her chest and started to walk back towards 'home'. What was she doing anyway? Why would she take something home that she'd have to nurse back to health and then possibly feed if it stuck around? Because it was the right thing to do, that's why. It's not like the creature would stick around anyway, many failed attempts at saving hungry and hurt canines had resulted in them running off only within a few weeks of her saving them. Ungrateful mongrels.

She sighed as she looked down through the openings of the crate to the small black bundle inside, wondering if she would be in time to save the small thing, and with that she picked up her pace slightly, if only to slow back down so she didn't jostle her precious package.

---

She had managed to find the open wounds through the fur, using a suture kit to close the wounds and dress them with healing herbs as she went, doing what she could in means of making the small cat comfortable;lining the crate she found her in with padding in the form of dry grasses and then with a few cloths that belonged to original clothes she had gotten when first in the Menagerie but had all but fallen apart so she put them to good use. She watched the small kitten sleep as she began to doze off, sitting on the makeshift bed she had made as she leaned against the wall, nodding off as she leaned her hand against her face that was propped against her leg. She had practically spent the last day and a half watching over the feline with hardly any change; she hoped the cat would survive - she would've felt like a failure if she didn't. 

[SORCHA]

There was a difference between being unconscious and sleeping. When she slept, there was an enigmatic feel that time had passed. Dreams came and went, and often she would wake to turn over or settle more comfortably. Unconsciousness brought a heavy blackness that sucked Sorcha down and did not release her. Eventually something did rouse her … Oh baby kitty, a warm angelic voice cooed. With effort her head rose, her eye peering open. Even this small action was difficult, and it hurt so much that a pitiful cry escaped her. Sorcha had never been physically strong. Her lifestyle, though more active in the dome than in the world, left her thin but without much muscle. Cats were agile and quick creatures by nature, but her human body was not well coordinated. That even as a cat she had trouble simple moving would have terrified her if exhaustion and pain had not stolen every scrap of energy she had left. She tried in vain to focus on the face that loomed above her. What she saw was a blurred vision of kind eyes and dark hair. She smelled of … vulpine, and sweet grass, and something else rather bitter was that ink? As the weightless feeling of being carried took her it proved too much and the deep waters of comatose took her once more. The next time she woke she wish she had not. She had never been drunk but if one had been drunk and hit by an eighteen-wheeler she guessed this is exactly what it would have felt like. She felt pulled apart and put back together again even before she moved. Her head ached fiercely, but she was alive. She was alive. Another pathetic mew escaped her, pain would rule her life for a long time to come and with that she fell back into a dreamless sleep. The body needed sleep to heal. How many days passed between her few waking moments she did not know. Once she awoke when gentle hands stroked her fur and guided a bowl of water beneath her mouth. She lapped up quite a bit before falling into a true sleep. The morning a bird outside chortled obnoxiously. Her ears twitched with irritation but before long her eyes opened. She had both of them now, though one hurt to use and was slow to focus. At least it still worked. Her mouth opened wide as she yawned and stood painfully to stretch. Hunger was her motive and it took some doing but eventually she crawled from her little warm crate bed and shakily made her way to a clearer version of the person she’d seen in her dreams, and briefly in consciousness. The woman was asleep sitting up, and Sorcha sat beside her for a long moment to assess this new person. The smell of vulpine, sweet grass, and ink hit her nose again. It was a pleasant smell and immediately she began to purr. Unsteadily she jumped to the woman’s lap, then carefully stepped onto her chest. She mowed, but the woman did not stir. Her head arched and she daintily sniffed at the woman’s nose, then her eyelashes. Her whiskers kissed her cheeks and it was only a moment before her eyes fluttered open and the instant they did Sorcha meowed again in a plaintive manner that even a tone deaf creature couldn’t mistake. Food. Her eyes were a curious shade of murky green, like the ocean on a stormy day and Sorcha was pleased that the second thing she did after opening her eyes was smile. It was likely the sweetest smile she had ever seen. Unceremoniously, Sorcha’s paw rose to rest her cool and sensitive pad on the woman’s nose, and a questioning chirp sounded from her closed mouth. She was unsteady on her feet, and her already small cat-frame was now bony and weightless. It was even an effort to remain steady on the woman's body and suddenly she lost her balance altogether and toppled over.

[VI]

She sat in a chair at the end of her bed, a small, make-shift table out of a plank of wood and some stacked items was perfect for her to lean against, her elbow propped on said surface as she leaned into the fist that she made as she read the book that was open on its surface. She had been skimming the lines, a medical book she had read many times before, before she found herself succumbing to the comfort that was the darkness of her shut eyelids. She dreamt of nothing in particular, but she had a feeling that there was sounds and colors - nothing specific or relating in nature to anything important. Occasionally she would stir, her light snoring interrupted for shifting her legs or adjusting her awkward position in which she slept.

Being roused by the lightest of weight upon her lap and the gentle pads on her chest she was now aware her little feline friend had in fact made it, the loud protest for which she assumed was for food, was heard as she chuckled. "Oh hello there. I am awake I swear," she said as the lithe feline rose a paw to her nose in the cutest display of feline behavior she had seen; she probably believed this though because she hadn't had contact with an animal such as a pet in forever - usually it was large tigers or bears trying to maul you. She was already lifting her hands up to hold the feline when she began to topple, a worried look flashing over her face as she caught the weightless bundle and scooped her into her arms. "Well I guess you shouldn't be making any sudden movements just yet, hmm?" she said with a smile as she rose from her seat and walked over to a similar table that sat by her bed, wrapped cloth sat there as she used her hand not holding the kit to reach out and unfold it, smoked pieces of meat lied there as she picked up a decent sized piece and held it up for her little thing to investigate as she assumed she would.

"I swear its not poison or anything, not that ... you seem to understand the possibility of someone giving you something that tastes good and possibly have it hurt you," she said as she cleared her throat a bit and sat on her cot-bed. She was a bit overwhelmed with the idea of having another mouth to feed but she supposed that once the cat was back on her feet she would hunt for herself as well? Cats hunted right? She never had a cat, or even a pet for that matter, though she assumed they wouldn't through domestic cats into a dome that expected wet or dry food from the non-existent supermarket in the dome.

"You like it?" she asked, knowing full well the cat couldn't answer her - though she supposed they could be a shifter as well? Maybe even a retro? Her brows knitted together at the thought as she watched the cat once more and tilted her head, her locks falling over her shoulder to brush against the cat before she moved her hand around behind her head to grab the locks and pull them back. She bit her tongue as she was about to apologize for that but she was being silly. WAS she really that lonely that she needed to talk to a cat? Well ... it wasn't like there was anyone around to judge her.

[SORCHA]

Just as Sorcha’s eyes shifted about to discern where she would land, familiar hands scooped her up. After a moment of awkwardness and realizing the woman wouldn’t squeeze her to death she settled easily enough in the folds of her arm as she was carried to another table. Well I guess you shouldn’t be making sudden movements just yet hm? Wasn’t that her line? How many times had she cautioned her patients about quick moves after an injury? She should have known better, but it was different when the shoe was on the other foot. After the woman’s reassurances, Sorcha inspected the offered food. The bit of meat she was given smelled good. Daintily she sniffed it, then carefully took it in her teeth. Her head shook and she dropped it once, but once she got a taste of it she gobbled it down easily enough. Finished with the piece she licked her whiskers and vigorously began to wash herself. After a quick bath her sea blue-green eyes settled on the woman again before looking around. Where were they? It smelled like they were somewhere with lots of trees. Which ring was she in? Instantly she ruled out the Carna, the Fallen, Fulsi, and the Nakoma. She’d have been dead, she didn’t see any sand, she would have been with someone she knew, or the woman would have any ears or scales somewhere. Maybe she was rouge? She’d not had much experience with rouges. Even with the unanswered questions she felt safe, and that was saying something. This was not a place ruled by anyone; even the feel of the little home was airy and light. She liked it. Between the food and washing she was growing tired and slowly she lowered to the table to lay down before she fell down. Her stitches ached, and her eye was getting tired enough to start closing. She chirped again at the woman as her tail flicked.

[Fuleao]

SEIJA-CHAN IronChild

[VI]

She watched the small feline go about her eating and then washing, all normal cat things right? No unusual possible shifter personality here ... right? She sighed, most shifters did animal things in their animal form, dumbass, it'd look awfully weird for a dog or cat to do something like sit in a chair at a table or something. Thoughts aside she shook her head slightly as if to clear her thoughts by the quick motion before she reached out to stroke the little ones fur, her fingers running down her lithe body to stroke the length of her tail.

The small chirp from the velvet feline made her smile, a small dimple in her right cheek forming as she scritched the top of her head a bit more before she moved more onto the bed and then twisted to gently move her hands underneath the cat to attempt to move her without jostling her; at least as little as possible. The worry of irritating the little ones stitches was there as she moved her to the spot between chest and stomach, a few murmured 'sorrysorry's escaping her before she got her settled. Curling one arm around the feline back side as she shifted to curl her other arm under her head, her grey-green eyes glancing down her nose at the bundle of fur.

"You know, you can stay here as long as you want. I could always use the company," she said as she absent mindedly pet her. "Not that I'm some hermit or anything but being a rogue you dont get many visitors .. well .. ones you want anyway," she said as she laughed a bit, mentally knocking on wood as she sucked the left side of her lip slightly into her mouth and chewed on the skin as she was lost in thought.

"I mean, I hope you stick around for a little while at least. I've always heard cats do as they please anyway but ... well you'd always have someplace dry to sleep. I suppose I could share some food with you too, you glutton...," she said the last part teasingly of course as she let her eyes flicker to the roof above them, her hands still slowly stroking her fur. On a certain level she wished the cat was a retro or even a shifter, but at the same time just a animal companion would be nice as well. She reached over, grabbing her medical book off the table as she shifted a little bit to prop herself up against the wall, opening up her place int he book as she propped it behind the kitten, opening up the folded corner of the text to let her eyes skim to where she was.

"It's funny you know, reading books that I would've been no where near in the outside world. I mean, apparently I have the natural ability to to something great but ... I dunno. Too much pressure and expectations I guess. Plus being a singer and tattoo artist just sounds more fun. More Type B than going into the medical field yeah? Even though some of this is really interesting." She laughed as she looked down at the feline who had glanced up to her and she took it in her own mind to think she was talking too much. "You can stop me anytime, ya know." Another laugh and a few pets were given before she hunkered down once more, her lip sucked into her mouth once more as she let her eyes run across the text.

[SORCHA]

WHO LOOKS OUTSIDE, DREAMS; WHO LOOKS INSIDE, AWAKES When she lifted Sorcha it hurt, and a small, faint noise of both complaint and discomfort escaped her. It made her want to hiss and claw and run, but the care and soothing murmurs the woman made disabled the instinct instantly and soon she was comfortably settled against her. The cat’s eyes closed as she listened to her speak about staying, about company, about being a glutton. A tiny rumble began, her purr quiet but tangible as her fingers traveled across Sorcha’s fur. It was nice. This was nice. She liked her voice, a hair deep and the tone easy to listen to. Her green-blue eyes narrowed in contentment. In so many ways, being a cat was a release for the intelligent, book bound, medic-slave. So much about her was tense, insecure, removed, and uncomfortable. Though the terrible memories of the … monster lingered in her mind, it was impossible to allow the nightmare to take hold while in this woman’s presence. When her new living-heated couch shifted to snag the book a half-hearted sound of protest squeaked from the young cat, and when she continued her light amusing prologue, the feline looked up to her in half attention. You can stop me anytime ya know. Her eyes shifted between the women’s as if she couldn’t decide which lovely, muddy -olive eye to look at and abruptly moved the fraction of an inch forward, as if in a false-start with a closed mouth trill through her nose in reply. The bird outside continued its obnoxious array of chortling, and without notice Sorcha slipped into a short doze – dreaming of stalking the creature through the treetops and sinking her sharp little teeth into its middle. She’d bat it around, just to make thoroughly sure of its demise, then bring it back to … what was her name? It was within the last musing that she slipped into a deep, healing sleep.

WORDS:320 | TAGS:VI | IRONCHILD@THEMENAGERIE

[VI]

It was awhile before the pages of text began to blur, her eyes straining to focus as she squeezed them shut and used a hand to rub at the corners a bit forcefully. Blinking them open a few times she began to realize the heaviness her body was telling her about as she sighed, placed a sheet of paper that she used for a marker in the book, and returned it to its place on the table next to her bed. She sighed heavily, glancing down to the small bundle that was curled contently upon her chest as she stroked the middle of the felines head absent-mindedly, a small smile forming on her lips again as she watched her. It was still a long while til the poor thing would be back to normal, but she would be patient. This little girl would make it yet.

She shifted ever so slightly so as not to disturb her charge, making it so she was fully on her back as she curled one arm under her head and let out a large yawn. Her other hand reached up to lay across her stomach, just below the small cats frame, a thumb barely brushing the fur she could feel was not disturbed from any wounds that were healing. She watched her for a moment, the soft rise and fall of the felines body that indicated she was in fact, still alive, through her slitted eyes.

She didn't know when, but probably soon after she slipped into the world of the unconscious, her head falling to the side as her mouth parted slightly.

END THREAD