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- He/Him
Fendis opened one eye slowly. It had been such a nice nap. He had been chasing some tunnel mice and with a flying leap managed to catch one. With one savage bite and a shake of his jaws he had broken the tunnel mouse's back. He let out a yowl of triumph as his hunt was successful and he would provide for the clan, to validate his position as a great hunter of Clan Steel Fangs, the mightest and only cat clan of worth in the world.
Really, who else was there? Humans? It was a laughable thing. They could barely feed themselves. They had to have their food brought to them, by the Tester! They did not hunt, but grew their food, grew it! They grubbed in soil or in water which did not taste like water at all and stirred great paddles of metal in giant stone vats. Some of what they called meat which came out of those giant things was tasty, others were more foul than a nest spider. Fendis learned the hard way how nest spiders tasted, and the venom! His body shuddered at the thought.
The gnawing on his ear grew more insistent, but he was not ready. He rolled and rolled and rolled and it seemed to shake whatever was on top of him off. He found a spot of warmth on the floor. He yawned, padded about the spot three times. There could nest spiders there after all. None seemed to come out of the stone of the floor, but one had to be cautious. Those warriors who were not were often dead warriors. Finding the warm spot nest free, he settled down, tucked his muzzle under his paws, and slept again.
This time the dream was different. Nest spiders, large drones, not the mites which cats sometimes encountered when they hunted. They attacked the Clan and threatened the nursery. The kits were in danger! Without a thought Fendis dashed into the melee. He leapt in the air, caught the wall and using all four of his paws bounded off of it. He tucked his head in close and slammed into one of the drones.
Fendis's sheer weight, as he was a mighty warrior of the Steel Fangs and thus was one of the largest cats in the clan. It knocked the drone over, onto its back and exposed the very vulnerable underside not protected by hide. He slashed with his front claws and savaged the creature, spilling open its vile smelling insides to the air. He of course was a great cat and easily sidestepped the foul liquid and offal.
There was a twittering behind him and he only spared a quick glance, and lashed out with his back claws. He had earned his battle spurs at this point and the steel fangs on the spurs which gave his clan its name struck right into the things eyes, driving it made with pain. He was about to leap again to repeat his strike when a weight hit him from above. It drove the air out of him and then there were sharp fangs into his shoulder. There was pain. There was real pain!
This was not a dream!
Fendis woke up with a great yarring cry and rolled again. As he did he lashed out with all four paws, claws out. This earned a pained cry in turn. Fendis was upon his feet, low to the ground and a battle growl emanating from his chest. It was the greatest battle growl he had ever done. He had been practicing after all because he was going to becohe always me the greatest cat warrior in Clan Steel Fangs. One needed to have an intimidating battle growl to turn their foe's bowls into water and their limbs shake in fear. However, in reality it did not sound very grand, or intimidating. In fact for a human, one could not distinguish it from a loud and off sounding purr, for Fendis was a kit, a small one at that, one of the smallest of the litter and thus incessantly picked on and bullied by his brothers and sisters. One would think they would learn by now as no matter how small Fendis was as a kit, he always won their fights, and he was going to win this one!
He was about to leap and dispatch his troublesome sister Mirmir when before he could leap he was seized by the scruff of his neck. His body went limp, but he still growled and spoke sharply. "Put me down! Put me down! Put me down! My honor has been challenged. I must meet it and dispatch my foe. My status as a warrior demands it!"
Here was a rich purring laugh from above as he turned his head a bit to his side and saw his mother, a glint of mirth in her eyes as she had tilted her head some to look at him. Her words were muttered, as she had him in her mouth after all, but he could still understand her. She was a cat after all and did not need her muzzle to talk, unlike the stupid humans. "Oh great warrior are you? Your sister was waking you up so you could eat. I pushed all seven of them away this morning and told them none of them get to eat first as they have been like humans gorging themselves of late. Unless you do not want breakfast and will miss out again as all my milk will be near gone."
There was a deep rumble inside of Fendis, and his stomach almost staged a revolt at the mention of food. It was true. Since he was born his brothers and sisters have made certain to get to their mother first when it was time to feed. They were lazy kits, and huddled by mother near all the time. They were not preparing for their future. He was out there, tackling and flying off walls and gnawing the ears of the warriors set to guard the nursery. They bore it with grace and then they were tired of the little monster, they swatted him away. They did not use their claws though, which was a sign of respect to him. They approved of his initiative.
However his self imposed training put him away from his brothers and sisters, and thus they got to eat first. It ranckled him, put his hackles up. Then they ganged up on him, but because they did not have his training, they went away with slashed coats and scratches. Which did not make him well liked which was fine. He was Cat, and he would be a warrior. Again he stared daggers at Mirmir. Maybe losing an eye would make her respect him.
He was about to try to get away from his mother's grasp. His honor was at stake here when his stomach rumbled again so loud even a human could hear it. Alright, food first then. Honor could always come later, unless something else came along after food. One never knew what was important till it was right before them after all. It was the Cat way. He stopped struggling and tucked his paws into himself. "Fine, food first."
His mother chuckled in her chest. "I thought so, my little kit warrior. Come, I will even let you have an extra minute and make sure Mirmir goes last this time." His mother's words pleased him greatly. Not only just because she said Mirmir would go last. It was a certainty in his mind she should. He bested her in the initial encounter, and others before it, but because his mother called him a warrior. A kit warrior to be certain, still young, untrained, (and to adult cats more an entertaining nuisance than anything else), but a warrior nonetheless. He was going to be a warrior, a great warrior, the greatest in the history of the Steel Fangs! His stomach grumbled again. Oh yes, but first, food. Priorities, always changing and how could they not.
He was Cat. A kit yes, but still, a Cat.
Really, who else was there? Humans? It was a laughable thing. They could barely feed themselves. They had to have their food brought to them, by the Tester! They did not hunt, but grew their food, grew it! They grubbed in soil or in water which did not taste like water at all and stirred great paddles of metal in giant stone vats. Some of what they called meat which came out of those giant things was tasty, others were more foul than a nest spider. Fendis learned the hard way how nest spiders tasted, and the venom! His body shuddered at the thought.
The gnawing on his ear grew more insistent, but he was not ready. He rolled and rolled and rolled and it seemed to shake whatever was on top of him off. He found a spot of warmth on the floor. He yawned, padded about the spot three times. There could nest spiders there after all. None seemed to come out of the stone of the floor, but one had to be cautious. Those warriors who were not were often dead warriors. Finding the warm spot nest free, he settled down, tucked his muzzle under his paws, and slept again.
This time the dream was different. Nest spiders, large drones, not the mites which cats sometimes encountered when they hunted. They attacked the Clan and threatened the nursery. The kits were in danger! Without a thought Fendis dashed into the melee. He leapt in the air, caught the wall and using all four of his paws bounded off of it. He tucked his head in close and slammed into one of the drones.
Fendis's sheer weight, as he was a mighty warrior of the Steel Fangs and thus was one of the largest cats in the clan. It knocked the drone over, onto its back and exposed the very vulnerable underside not protected by hide. He slashed with his front claws and savaged the creature, spilling open its vile smelling insides to the air. He of course was a great cat and easily sidestepped the foul liquid and offal.
There was a twittering behind him and he only spared a quick glance, and lashed out with his back claws. He had earned his battle spurs at this point and the steel fangs on the spurs which gave his clan its name struck right into the things eyes, driving it made with pain. He was about to leap again to repeat his strike when a weight hit him from above. It drove the air out of him and then there were sharp fangs into his shoulder. There was pain. There was real pain!
This was not a dream!
Fendis woke up with a great yarring cry and rolled again. As he did he lashed out with all four paws, claws out. This earned a pained cry in turn. Fendis was upon his feet, low to the ground and a battle growl emanating from his chest. It was the greatest battle growl he had ever done. He had been practicing after all because he was going to becohe always me the greatest cat warrior in Clan Steel Fangs. One needed to have an intimidating battle growl to turn their foe's bowls into water and their limbs shake in fear. However, in reality it did not sound very grand, or intimidating. In fact for a human, one could not distinguish it from a loud and off sounding purr, for Fendis was a kit, a small one at that, one of the smallest of the litter and thus incessantly picked on and bullied by his brothers and sisters. One would think they would learn by now as no matter how small Fendis was as a kit, he always won their fights, and he was going to win this one!
He was about to leap and dispatch his troublesome sister Mirmir when before he could leap he was seized by the scruff of his neck. His body went limp, but he still growled and spoke sharply. "Put me down! Put me down! Put me down! My honor has been challenged. I must meet it and dispatch my foe. My status as a warrior demands it!"
Here was a rich purring laugh from above as he turned his head a bit to his side and saw his mother, a glint of mirth in her eyes as she had tilted her head some to look at him. Her words were muttered, as she had him in her mouth after all, but he could still understand her. She was a cat after all and did not need her muzzle to talk, unlike the stupid humans. "Oh great warrior are you? Your sister was waking you up so you could eat. I pushed all seven of them away this morning and told them none of them get to eat first as they have been like humans gorging themselves of late. Unless you do not want breakfast and will miss out again as all my milk will be near gone."
There was a deep rumble inside of Fendis, and his stomach almost staged a revolt at the mention of food. It was true. Since he was born his brothers and sisters have made certain to get to their mother first when it was time to feed. They were lazy kits, and huddled by mother near all the time. They were not preparing for their future. He was out there, tackling and flying off walls and gnawing the ears of the warriors set to guard the nursery. They bore it with grace and then they were tired of the little monster, they swatted him away. They did not use their claws though, which was a sign of respect to him. They approved of his initiative.
However his self imposed training put him away from his brothers and sisters, and thus they got to eat first. It ranckled him, put his hackles up. Then they ganged up on him, but because they did not have his training, they went away with slashed coats and scratches. Which did not make him well liked which was fine. He was Cat, and he would be a warrior. Again he stared daggers at Mirmir. Maybe losing an eye would make her respect him.
He was about to try to get away from his mother's grasp. His honor was at stake here when his stomach rumbled again so loud even a human could hear it. Alright, food first then. Honor could always come later, unless something else came along after food. One never knew what was important till it was right before them after all. It was the Cat way. He stopped struggling and tucked his paws into himself. "Fine, food first."
His mother chuckled in her chest. "I thought so, my little kit warrior. Come, I will even let you have an extra minute and make sure Mirmir goes last this time." His mother's words pleased him greatly. Not only just because she said Mirmir would go last. It was a certainty in his mind she should. He bested her in the initial encounter, and others before it, but because his mother called him a warrior. A kit warrior to be certain, still young, untrained, (and to adult cats more an entertaining nuisance than anything else), but a warrior nonetheless. He was going to be a warrior, a great warrior, the greatest in the history of the Steel Fangs! His stomach grumbled again. Oh yes, but first, food. Priorities, always changing and how could they not.
He was Cat. A kit yes, but still, a Cat.
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