-After the War- 

Just as you step out of your safe home, the darkness envelops your scrawny, albeit well-built female limbs.  You drop your head in search of the mask.

Which pocket. I think it's, argh, it's not that one either. Pshh I was being brisk to leave my home, unprepared. I should have just put in on at home.

You're about to flip open one of the flaps to a pocket on your pants when a noise bursts out from behind your physique. Startled, you quickly pause your search for the protection mask, that would keep the multiple diseasese lingering around every nook and cranny of the streets from entering your body, to face the direction of the unfamiliar sound. It seemed muffle. It's not quite a human's sound, but than again with these starving humans any sounds can erupt from them. You flipped your head, your body following suite as you rapidly draw your sharp sword from its' carriage. Your mouth is dry and cracked from the suspense. You dice your sword through the air a few times to signal, if the noise did indeed come from the mouth of a human, that you were armed and dangerous. 

You would take no mercy on anyone. The wandering soul would have to take pity instead because to win, your heart could never be in the game. Mercy is not available in a matter of life or death. There just wasn't any in between. Even if it meant your heart, shattered and tattered or broke into a million pieces, than and there, forever, seeing how even they could not control how they suffered, you would have to take no mercy on them. 
This was the mindset you were forced to learn when outbreak of the shortage of food erupted throughout the city like wildfire. At first it was a rumor, supposedly spread by the people at the docks but soon enough their "lies" became the truth. It was harsh reality. And you had this life to thank because of the Kingdom. 

No one responded to your slashing sword. You sighed, scratching your head in an irritable manner before sliding back the polished sword into its' sack. You turned your body to continue you walk. Just as your body took the notion received from your brains' signal to step forward, a soft, furry thing slides up against your leg. Your body freezes, realizing it could be a million and one things rubbing against the patch of bone and skin your skinny ankle carries. Out of sheer shock you jump out of its' grasp, pushing yourself up against the nearby buildings wall. In the darkness of the (so far so good) quit street you see an even darker figure. It's small and it has some sort of long stick, pointing out of its' back. That's all you can see from your spot on the other side of a ray of light from the sun. The thing stands on the other side of that light ray. That's the only distance you have from that creature. If indeed it's even normal. 

"What is this stupid tyrant planning now? Has he not have enough trouble and personal matters to attend to than to play with the insane and crumpled with fear, minds of the city people? That fool. What an incompetent ruler." 

The small figure slowly moves forward from its area over on the other side of the diminishing light ray. Out of the blue it stops it's walk forward and crouches on  it's legs. Preparing yourself, you draw your sword forward once more. Before it- you point the swords tip forward, the light rays shining off the metal making it shine like a star itself-meows, throwing itself out into the open light. You were about to react on natural instinct to attack it with your sword but when the sound of it meowing registers in your head, you stop and put the sword down; causing it to scrape against the dirt of the street. You stare in awe how the cat majestically walks forward, the long stick you had imagined simply being its' tail, it's tail coming into view. Having owned Floo-Poo for several years and counting now, sure does have it's advantages. 

Sweat trickles down your face. Guess I really gotta thank her than. I owe her one, for having her meowing. If not..I'm sure this cat would have been dead several years ago. 

It stops walking about a foot away from you, takes the time to innocently look at you before scratching its' head with its' white paw. And when I say it's white, it's white because the cats on these streets own grey or black paws from the dirt that filters the city. The city hasn't seen clean since the dawn of time. 

Than it just puts its' paw down, feet forward, tail up and swishing in the back, like a true soldier. The cat continues to stare back at you, its eyes cautious of your ways with that sword as if it knows you want it for meat. But that is only an assumption because you don't want to kill it. Blushing, you put the sword back into its' leather case. As you show the cat that you are harmless by stretching your empty hand out forward, it opens its mouth wide, yawning in the process before shutting it closed, a tired look in its ways. You puff out a fresh air of breath, remembering  you had to put on your mask. The cat its head to the side before making all these weird noises. Well you would think it's trying to get attention if only you didn't know it was an animal. It is and animal's don't have the intelligence to speak or make motions, understandable to humans so it was just a silly thought of yours. 

Trying to distract me. Hmph, it's just a lost kitty-cat. 

"You know though you really are something." The thought of your mask flying out of your mind again. "Coming up to me when-you turn your head around every which direction to see if there isn't anyone nearby, trailing or spying-when from the looks of yourself, you could have been someone's dinner tonight. Look at your thighs hun. They're fat and would be juicy when cooked." Now that just sounds disgusting. You gag mentally. "And your fur, well even though winter is still a close months away, it would be a nice coat or blanket."
Anything suffices in this war. A simple can rolling down the street and there would be a fight breaking out for it, anytime, anywhere. 

Unintentionally your body starts walking forward towards the cat as if it's compelled by its kind presence. By the time you try and object your own movments you've already stooped down to scratch behind the cats' ears. 

"But of course I would never do that. Creatures of your kind are too innocent. You all have no say in whether you die or live..that is unless you can get away. But you have some sort of stupidity to yourself that makes it hard to believe you would get away from danger." Even when danger is like your 6th sense. 

The cat only starts purring. It probably doesn't mind your cruel and blunt words. 

Noticing the cats fur no longer shines as when the ray of light was first hitting its plump body, you look up from the ground to the sky. The last rays of light, no visible from your home, are finally vanishing. They're off to say goodnight and let the night envelop this city. 

So now it's even more dangerous to be out here. You wish not to catch the evil train of trouble, this night or any other night for that matter. 

Debating on whether you should take the cat home with you ior leave it hear to it's own destiny, you stand. Your heart fights against your mind but in the end its your conscious that wins both your heart and mind over. 

I'm not thoughtless nor am I heartless, you think. 

"Your welcome to follow me, you speak, "but stay where I tell you to and..I don't know, meow if you need help. Do what cats do best and also try and fight back. Don't just sit there and wait to be killed. Kay?" You say lovingly. The cat only sits there, purring, its whiskers silently moving up and down. You shrug your shoulders.

You can't help but feel the slight sense that this cat is.. trouble. You noticed this when the suns' soft ray of light glimmered off of its finely brushed, thick and luscious fur. A street cat would have had no hair and most likely it wouldn't have walked up to you like that. The way this cat was SO friendly, sent shivers down your spine. How it did not even run after it sensed it could have been killed with your sword. Shove something up my face and I'd be frightened. But nope your okay with it. 

Mumbling your next sentence you say, "I wonder who your previous owner was before this hell of an outbreak." 

Finally having the opportunity arise you take the chance to pull out your mask. You search in the bottom, left hand corner of your right pant leg and sure enough there it is. Gently laying it over your face, minus your eyes and forehead for sight, you secure it on your pale face, tightening it with the strong string until you can feel the string itself close to breaking. That and your breathing becoming ragged. 

Biting your lip, you continue your journey to the citys center, an irritated look on your face for having this cat distract you from your duties.

You think of KiBum and how you promise yourself that you'll be home as soon as possible, with loaves of bread, ready for him to scarf down on so he can recuperate. So he can get better.