Post by blade on Apr 25, 2009 18:19:56 GMT -8
Long shadows crossed the sidewalk, turning the two-leg lanes into foreboding paths. The cheery yellow lines painted on the tar thunderpaths created a sinister atmosphere, magnified by the bone-chilling breeze. A heavy fog hung low over the city, smothering the sounds and dimming what little light emanated from the two-leg nests. It was quiet, eerily silent, as if a muffling blanket had been placed over the world. The faint sirens in the distance sound gaudy and tinny compared to the immense uneasiness of the hushed surroundings. The sky above, obscured by menacing gray, had a mournful quality, as if the very heavens were hostile. Flat and dull, most of the sky had an iron-leaden lifeless, as the concrete and almost as boring. Thin sheets of rain had not yet fallen, even though the vegetation cried out in agony of thirst.. Blue/gray smoke spiraled lazily through the air,exiting the smokestacks, leaving visible pollution in the bleakness of the sky. A bulky tabby padded among the downpour, his dark wet pelt making him have a resemblance to a drowned rat. But, that was where the resemblance ended. He was enormous for a feline, with long fur and powerful shoulders. His gray flecked, amber orbs gazed around maliciously, burning with the sweetness of despair. He padded silently, noiseless despite his size and bulk. Clawedheart. The name rang with a sinister sound. He clung to the shadows, never daring enough to seek the light. His direct path led him to an abandoned shack, the once-cream walls flecked with dirt and scribbles. The vegetation had been given free rein, usurping the sturdy grasses. Hearing the faint, muffled voice of a she-cat, he froze, pelt raised in icy fear. There were legends about the one he was seeking. Unknown to the world but her deeds were spoken with a hushed conviction. A voice like chimes and eyes of penetrating green; the top assassin for The Resistance. Inside the abandoned nest, two green orbs stared out in anticipation, feathery ears erect and wary. Her lips curled back, revealing dagger-sharp fangs. The tabby outside was certainly not a match for her wit and guile. He had tracked her for many moons, always coming just out of reach. A game of cat and mouse, both as the predator and the prey. Slinking into a secluded corner, she observed the complacent tom with growing pleasure. It was time for the hunted to become the hunter.
