Strays: Ch.1 - Alley thoughts

"Someone theeeere?..." a voice echoed in the twilight.




"Cheese and crackers!" Said Pinkie. She couldn't believe her owner forgot her in the park. Her white fur was getting stainned by the dark breeze of the dirty alley she was walking in. Jumping, to avoid the puddles of mud and rain water, the little kitty sighed.

    Pinkie was a beauty. Her proud long, fluffy tail was always raised tall, to show her dignity. Her delicate white paws could not step in puddles; they were too precious. Her beautiful golden eyes could melt the most cold heart.In her neck, she wore a pink collar, with six tinny diamonds, each one worth a thounsand suns.

But she was just a little kitty....

Was that the way home?

She stopped. The twilight was far gone, and the very last ray of sun was now passing slowly by the buildings. She meowed, scared. The kitty looked back, and then to the front.

She was completely lost.

The sun was gone, and she panicked. In a rush of fear, she threw her head back and...

"MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOWW!!!!"

Russel raised his head. Shook away the pieces of meat he had in his muzzle and stood very quiet. He heard the rats right under him, eating the only dinner he had in the last month. He didn't care.
He didn't regognize that meow. "A foreign..." he said to himself, in a deep, dragged voice. Smiled, showing his long yellow fangs. Forgetting about his dinner, he got his butt up from the puddle he was sitting in, shaking his fur. He walked slowly to the end of the alley, where he heard the meow.

Russel was a beast. First of all, he was a stray mutt. Forgotten by the laws of God and Man, he lived among everyone, known by noone. His musculated front paws were constrasting with his skinny back paws. His skin was marked by his ribs, and his stomach contracted inside. His dirty tail was always full of dust, always hanging down. The scar in his muzzle was worn proudly, and the snakebites in his lip reminded him of a past life.  But it was his eyes...

His dark blue eyes didn't match his dirty brown fur. The thirst for revenge in his eyes, the fights in his scars, the dissapointments his hears heard, the thrown words punched in his ribs, the growled truths blowed to his fur. The vengeful depression hanged in his tail.

While he walked, memories floated to his mind '...You are TRASH! Get out of here!...' '...you killed the master Russel...Skila did the right thing...'

MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOW!!!!!!

Another meow pulled him out of the blues.