Easy Does It {someone else can join!}

[Otter]

Bright greenleaf sunlight beamed down upon the ragged ginger form limping his way through the tall grass outside a large twoleg-made barn. Ears twitched this way and that in an attempt to catch the familiar sounds of mice wandering through the grass, horses neighing in the distance, and cattle uttering their deep, low moos. Old age meant poor hearing, and Eli was certainly feeling the effects of that; he could barely make out the pigeons fluttering in the rafters of the barns and the thundering of hoofbeats in the fields.

Despite this, the tomcat's sharp amber gaze caught every little movement that could be seen, and as he slipped past heavy doors into the cool, dim barn, the sight he most loved to see was waiting for him. Tiny little balls of yellow fluff tottered around the larger, brown feathered forms of hens. A rugged, crackly purr rumbled loudly from Eli's throat as he bounded forward as gracefully as was possible. The hens let up a small ruckus as he neared, but settled down quickly when they recognized the old ginger cat. Nodding to them, Eli paced about the little chicks, chuckling as they pecked at his side with tiny beaks, chirping their adorable little baby-chirps.

"How ya doin', kids?" he purred, knowing full well he would receive no answer. "Not too hard with those beaks, now; I'm an old codger, you know." With only his sister Virginia to converse with these days, Eli had discovered a love of talking to things even if they could not talk back. This included, but was not limited to, horses, sheep, cows, and, of course, chicks.

[SCARlett]

The old barn was wearing down more and more with each passing day, and just like the rays of golden sunshine, the slender ginger she-cat found a way in through one of the signs of age. The entrance hardly dignified the name of “hole” as it was no more than a spot where the wood had been torn away to leave nothing but jagged siding—just another one of the billion symptoms of entropy that populated the world. But still, it was ample room for the cat to enter, barely scraping her ginger tabby fur against the rough edges of the wood. When the very tip of her long tail had made it inside the establishment, she gave herself a rough shake and a few quick licks to smooth down her fur.

Immediately, the scent of sawdust and straw filled her nostrils, but along with it came the smell of familiar farm animals—bird in particular. Poultry, in her mind. The loner grinned, the expression marking a rather devious change in her demeanour. But before she could make another move, a different fragrance caught her attention, and as she peeked around the edge of a stack of hay, she could make out the shape of another cat in the hazy sunlight that streamed in through the parted shutters above. It looked like someone had beaten her to this henhouse. No matter, she would wait her turn.

Turning, Fox picked her way over to a pile of spare lumber, mounting one plank and ascending its leaning side. Her footfalls were quite—almost soundless—and she gracefully navigated her way to the top, selecting a different leaning plank until she stepped out onto the rafters that supported the roof. There, she settled down, curling her long-furred tail over her paws quite daintily, and looked down to watch the other cat.

How ya doin’ kids?

Fox blinked before staring hard at the old tomcat below. He had not attacked, nor snatched away a wandering chick. Instead, they gravitated towards him without fear, pressing up against the gingery fur as if they were used to his presence. A puzzled frown touched the lips of the amber-eyed female, and the tip of her tail twitched.

“This is an interesting sight—or is this how they hunted in your generation, pops?”

Cocking her head, she held her position and observed.

[Otter]

Pleading with the little creatures to hold in their eagerness was useless, as Eli well knew. After a few more gentle protests of "please be careful" and "not too hard, little ones," he finally gave up and flopped over onto his side, sending chicks scattering in all directions and causing the heads of the great brown hens to raise and uneasy clucking to issue from their open beaks. However, Eli simply flicked his tail at their fretting and stretched out on the hay-covered ground, waiting for the chicks to return. They did, one by one, settling down by his belly and tucking their little heads under their little wings. Eli's rumbling purr must have soothed them, for within minutes a dozen little yellow fluffballs were sound asleep beside him.

I feel like a queen, the ginger tomcat thought absurdly, raising his head slightly to peer down at the little chicks. A small twinge of protectiveness shot through him, surprising the tomcat, and he wondered, Is this how mothers feel toward their kits? I wonder how Delilah felt about us... but the moment he thought the name of his mother, Eli pushed it out of his mind. He loved her, and always would, but thinking of her brought him pain even after all these long years. He would never forget that night, 124 moons ago, that he and his family watched her die from infected rat bites. Eli had felt hopelessly helpless then, and it was not a feeling he relished.

The old tomcat had barely managed to pull his thoughts away from the past when he heard a voice overhead, and he jumped slightly in surprise, upsetting a few chicks who awoke, cheeped lightly, and then settled back against him. The hens, too, looked up, but as the resident cat seemed perfectly relaxed, they, too, relaxed and went back to pecking seeds.

It had been moons since Eli had heared any voice besides his sister's, and the fact that this particular voice sparked absolutely no sense of familiarity from Eli's long past was particularly intriguing. Eli's gaze lifted curiously to the cat perched high above him on the rafters that supported the quickly-deteriorating barn. Her long tail was the only thing he could really see, besides her own amber eyes, and so he could not size her up. "In fact, we did not hunt this way, youngster," he mewed amiably, keeping his eyes fixed on her in hopes that she would come down. "When I was your age, mice simply threw themselves into my mouth. Fish, too."

[SCARlett]

Maybe what they said about mellowing with age was right. The older cat took a moment to locate the source of the voice, but as he turned his eyes on her, she was surprised—albeit pleasantly so—to find that those pools of amber were remarkably peaceable. He called a reply to her, and her ears pointed forward to catch those words. All the while, a smirk played on her lips as her eyes moved across the flock of what appeared to be yellow cotton balls. Then, she returned her attention to the gaze of the tomcat and caught the mild curiosity in the amber glow. He had not looked away since he had first started speaking, and Fox returned the look. Her higher position in the shadows (never mind her youth) admittedly gave her an advantage in vision, and she used it to scope out the male. This, however, was hardly necessary as it was more than evident from his relaxed body language that he meant no harm.

Harm—ha, this cat wouldn’t even kill a chicken.

[/color]

Wearing a faint ‘Cheshire Cat’ grin, the ginger tabby rose nimbly to her paws and made her way along the narrow beam that supported her weight. She selected a path out of the mess of spare planks, and with a couple leaps, she landed quietly on the dusty floor of the old barn. Calmly and with measured curiosity, Fox moved to approach the other cat, her tail held in a parabolic curve after the manner of a prowling tiger. Nearby, the hens clucked warningly, rustling their feathers and reminding her with the gleams of their beady black of just how much those cruel beaks could hurt. Heeding this threat with slight amusement, the lean she-cat stepped no closer and took a seat, making no move to attack though she hardly displayed the same willingness to let the yellow puffballs clamber over her.

“Fascinating,” she meowed, her voice husky with repressed laughter. “Must have been great, the good old days—what, a thousand and one moons ago?”

It was kind of old to tease a cat about his age, if you’ll pardon the pun, but she could hardly resist. The oddity of the sight before her, as well as the bright sunshine streaming into the barn, had put her in a good mood, and the initial goal of hunting had been replaced by a rather leisurely mood. The she-cat yawned, ivory teeth glinting under the light. Tail twitching slightly, she depressed her forelegs and eased onto her side.

“You know, I’ve heard of dogs that protect those wooly fluffy things—whatertheycalled—sheep, but a cat who guards chicks?” Fox grinned deviously, showing about as much respect for the elderly as a teenager would. “That I’ve never seen before. What’s your name, pops?”
[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Otter]

Amber gaze followed the young she-cat as she made her way down to his level. A long time had passed since the last time he had met and conversed with a stranger. In fact, it had been a long time since he had spoken to any cat other than Virginia, friend and stranger alike. It was perhaps for this reason that Eli had forgotten, quite absurdley, that not all cats were as peacable as he. More than that, however, he had forgotten that some cats liked to eat chickens. Eli had feasted upon the plentiful mice in the barn so long that he had even forgotten that there was more food in the world than mice; he had forgotten that cats ate birds, squirrels, fish...all kinds of things. Much can happen in 44 moons to alter the mind of an aging cat.

The she-cat finally approached, and Eli did not miss the disturbance it caused among the chickens. The sight of their fluttering wings and the sounds of their fretful clucking were the first things to remind him that this was a strange cat. The chickens didn't trust her around their chicks, and they were even giving him uncertain glances as they fretted and clucked uneasily. Frowning slightly, Eli rose gently to a sitting position, curling his ratty ginger tail around the chicks as they resettled themselves against him; apparently the appearance of this stranger had not bothered them in the least.

She spoke, and Eli's scarred ears flicked forward to catch her words. "Indeed, but your dates are wrong, youngster. Look at me--do I look as young as a thousand moons old?" He chuckled slightly at his own joke, not particularly caring if she joined him in laughing. At her request, the old tomcat rasped out, "I am Eli. And watch yourself, young'un. If you spent 44 moons here with just your sis to talk to you'd also be talkin' to chicks and snuggling up to hens." The hens were growing more and more uneasy, and their attitude was starting to spread to the tomcat. For the very first time, a thought occured to him; what if this she-cat was looking for food? He glanced down at the chicks uneasily, then back up at her. Guess I've gotta distract her from you, eh? he thought to himself, though technically he was addressing the chicks. "You know, young'un, we've had a bit of a mouse problem around here for the past...well, forever. The place's swarmin' with them. Interested in an easy meal? Even an old codger like me can catch these mice."

[SCARlett]

Fox gave a murmuring purr of laughter to join that of the old cat, eyeing him appraisingly as if reconsidering the error of her judgment on his age. He was a strange creature; that was for sure, but at least he wasn’t chasing her from the barn and a potential meal like some of the nastier toms she’d met. Her mind drifted to them momentarily, scornfully remembering that once they’d discovered her lack of interest in having a one night stand and a litter of kits, they were keen to show her their interest in driving her off their territory. It was disgusting behaviour, honestly, and she took in the reversed actions of this particular cat with intrigue.

But then again, he suddenly seemed much more awake as if her proximity had broken the lethargic spell that had previously surrounded him. She noted the protective curl of his tail around the chicks and was reminded of the way new mothers acted when she came around to investigate the new smells and raucous in the street-side hovels they had made their home. She had scoffed then. As if she wanted to steal their precious kits. Fox paused, glancing at the chicks and hesitating. Alright, maybe that wasn’t so implausible this time. Bad analogy.

She lifted her eyes to his again as he gave his name, adding some sort of allegorical anecdote about a sister and living with such a thing. Fox smirked, vaguely able to recollect the ghost of memories of having one herself. And a brother. But they were gone now—no, she had gone, they had remained.

“Eli,” she said, pronouncing each syllable of the name slowly and with precision as if tasting its flavour. “I'm Fox, and I’m not going to eat your kits, mother. Not today. No point in giving an old codger a heart attack, eh?” Or indeed having a parade of angry hens descend on her like a storm. The tabby she-cat shot a glance over at the clucking mothers, noting that their initial discomfort had risen to give an entirely new definition to the word cacophony.

Glancing around the barn, she gave acknowledgement to his words in the form of a hybrid between a nod and a shrug. Mice, chickens, what was the difference to a hungry cat? In the end, protein was protein, and protein filled the belly. Rising soundlessly to her paws, the ginger she-cat disappeared around a corner to access the shaded area of the barn away from the noise of the hens. The rest was natural history, and within a few moments, she returned with two fat mice dangling by their tails.

“Hungry, momma?” teased Fox, but though her eyes glinted mischievously, she pushed a mouse to the old cat with a sheathed paw. After all, she was technically on his territory though Eli had invited her to hunt. She was no kittypet, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have common manners. Tucking her head down, she took a bite of the fresh-kill, relishing the familiar flavour and warmth on her tongue. Then, licking her whiskers, she looked up.

“So have you always lived here?” It was an aspect of life she didn’t fully understand. Sure, she’d come across cats who’d made their home somewhere and remained there, but she had always been a wanderer herself: a vagabond, a gypsy. The ginger tabby turned her head, gazing over her shoulder into the splash of sunlit field visible through the doorway. There was an entire world out there, and she had spent her life making it her oyster.

[Otter]

Deep relief washed over Eli as the she-cat spoke of leaving the chicks alone. The old tomcat could care less about being called a "mother" and "mamma", and in fact thought the words to be perfectly accurate and descriptive in this current situation. Would he have fought to protect the chicks? Perhaps, though he knew he was no match for the strong, confident youngster who stood before him. Would he have tried to bluff and talk her out of it? Most certainly. And if all that had failed, he figured the hens would have given this stranger quite a few gashes to take home with her. All in all, the situation could not have turned out too poorly, except for the lost life of a chick or two. And even Eli knew and understood that chicks were chicks, and cats came first.

There was a moment of confusion on the part of the old cat as Fox turned and simply disappeared. His failing hearing could not catch the sounds of what was happening beyond his sight, but the scent of fresh blood that soon drifted towards him was unmistakable even by him. Eli watched, bemused and intrigued, as the she-cat reappeared pushed one of her freshly-caught mice towards him. Did loners often share prey? In his day he recalled coming across no more than one or two who were not itching for a fight. Then again, that may have been entirely his fault--he had, after all, been a rebel-rouser back then, hadn't he?

“So have you always lived here?”

A harsh, bitter laugh erupted from somewhere, and it took a good few seconds for Eli to realize the sound had come from him. The question had surprised him, and all of a sudden memories began to surge in on him, threatening to knock him over like a powerful wave. Visions danced before his eyes--his mother, crying out in pain as the infections spread all over her; his brother scrabbling for a foothold in the diabolical muck of the Swamplands. Eli shook his head roughly, dislodging the memories and fixing his sharp-as-ever amber gaze back on the youngster.

"No," he rasped quietly, tail-tip flicking slightly as he broke eye contact again to glance absent-mindedly down at the dead mouse and sleeping chicks. Though his belly had begun to rumble, no part of Eli wanted to take a single bite of meat anymore. The memories had disrupted his peaceful mindset, but not even they could quell his interest in talking about the less tragic parts of his past. "Born here, yes. Stayed for awhile, but...I left. Been more places than you've been, I'd bet. You'd well be surprised, young'un, but I was a true daredevil back then. Did whatever I wanted, fought whoever I pleased, and didn't come back here till about 44 moons ago. Surprised?" He raised his eyes back to her, ears pricking forward as he waited for her to reply. Would Fox believe that the old codger sitting in front of her had ever traveled around? A few years ago, Eli wouldn't have believed it if he'd been told one day he'd be snuggling with chicks and talking to sheep. Sizing the she-cat up and down for the first time, Eli added with a good-natured purr, "I could've whupped the likes of you easy back in my day."

[SCARlett]

Eli seemed a little reluctant to take the offered fresh-kill, but she was hardly surprised at that. Cats didn’t hunt for each other. They weren’t society-animals as dogs were. They were solitary, lonely maybe. Only mates shared prey, and only mothers and fathers hunted for their litters. Fox smiled, but it was more a customary gesture than an expression of joy. She shrugged carelessly, licking her whiskers for the remnants of mouse.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t poison it, although that might be a good idea… With you out of the way, who’s there to stop me from getting my claws on those fluffy little things, eh?” The composed smile cracked into a devilish grin, but the twitch of her tail was good natured, and the gleam in those golden-amber eyes was humorous. “Unless you think I’m hitting on you. Well, you’re handsome, but you’re not my type.”

No, he said, negating her question, and as the ginger she-cat blinked in response, Eli began his tale. She listened quietly, and her face betrayed no emotion as she took in the words he offered. It was true; she was a bit surprised, but she quickly reasoned that as old as he looked, he had to have been some places before retiring to this old barn. A smirk decorated Fox’s lips as she glanced down, taking note of the chicks that had fallen into a peaceful slumber at the old cat’s side. Their mothers had finally calmed enough to quit the racket they had been making. They were now satisfied with only fluttering their wings and casting an occasional glare her way as if to dare her to try to eat their babies. Oooh, scary.

I could’ve whupped the likes of you easy back in my day.

The she-cat snorted, flashing her teeth in a broad grin as her ears twitched toward the old tom. Narrowing her eyes, she idly rolled onto her side and peered at him, crossing one foreleg over the other.

“Back in your day, my mother would not have even been born. Give us some credit. We’ve come a long way since your day, pops. Back then, I’m sure there were more trees and less two-legs. It’s harder to catch prey now with all their monsters and nesting sites.” Her tone was mildly defensive, but she still wore the calm smirk that seemed customary to her face. The expression suited her as if it was as much a part of her as the whiskers and the stripes. Then, she smiled and shifted into an upright position, stretching her legs in front of her.

“44 moons is a long time, pops. Not all of us are lucky enough to have a home such as this.” She paused as if to consider what she had just said. Then, looking around, she concluded for herself, “But then again, not all of us want one.”

[Otter]

Ragged ginger tail curled protectively around the chicks once more, but the tail-twitch exposed Fox's joke, and Eli relaxed once again. This was getting exhausting, though...he didn't know what to think about this loner. It was hard deciding if he should be wary or comfortable...so he gave up, and settled on comfortable.

He snorted aloud at her words, shaking his head at her naivete. "You think it was easier back in my day, youngster? You don't know nothing about hardships." There was no bitterness or defensiveness in his voice, but simple fact and amusement. "I've lived through rat infestations, flooding, and famine all before you were even born. What've you gone through, kid?"

“44 moons is a long time ago, pops. Not all of us are lucky enough to have a home such as this. But then again, not all of us want one.”

Eli found himself nodding almost unconsciously at her words. She sounded just like him many moons ago--scorning the idea of a permanent home, wanting to wander and explore and see the world. "Enjoy wandering while you're young, youngster," he mewed in agreement, allowing his amber gaze to sweep the familiar, cozy barn he had once scorn, but now loved. "Eventually a cat dies or grows old enough to contemplate settling down. When that happens, I'll be long gone...but feel free to come back here." After a moment, he added as an afterthought, "Long as you don't kill the little chicks."

[SCARlett]

She expected him to defend his era. It was why she baited him in the first place, and as Eli made his response, Fox suppressed a purr of laughter. A younger tom might have jumped up and retorted hotly before leaping at the old cat to prove he was worth his salt. But Fox was neither any younger nor a tom, and she’d never been the type to charge into stupid fights. Instead, she yawned pointedly and flexed her claws, tail continuing to twitch as it had been. In a way, she was being quite insolent, and if Eli was as old as he claimed to be, he would likely associate the behaviour with the teenagers who often move around the farm in small belligerent gangs. Faintly amused, she wondered if he’s ever had to yowl at them to get off his precious chicks.

“Pfftt, I’m a she-cat. We go through hardships you toms have never dreamed of,” she shot back smartly, sneering as she rolled over onto her back, stretching one front limb over her head for a moment. Then, twisting her neck at an odd angle, she focused contently narrowed eyes on the old cat again, wearing a teasing grin.

“Ever have to weave between speeding monsters on the Thunderpath to avoid the most idiotic of young tomcats? Do it on a regular basis,” said Fox, wearing a scornful expression. “I don’t even want to think about the diseases half of them must have been carrying. There’s plague.” She rolled over onto her belly again, facing him properly now, and continued. “I don’t know about famine, but I’ve been out on the streets since I stopped feeding from my mother. I’m about 48 moons now, and there were some awful winters in there. And if a flood should come, I have no intention of drowning.”

Fox straightened onto her haunches, finalizing this stage of her movement by curling her long tail over her paws. “I’m not as old as you, pops, and I’ve probably not seen as much as you have, but I’m a cat—not a house pet. I know how to take care of myself.”

Enjoy wandering while you’re young, youngster.

She smiled. “I intend to.”

His next offer was a little surprising, and Fox blinked in response, unsure what to say at first. She followed his gaze around the barn, her eyes holding curiosity in the twin gleams of gold. She had noticed the love in his eyes, and she wondered if all cats would get to be that way as they aged. Or perhaps Eli was simply different. Had her father found somewhere to settle? If he was still alive, that was. A slight frown creased the she-cat’s features. Eli was right. One day, she, too, would age and be unable to continue her vagabond lifestyle. What would she do then? She hadn’t thought that far into the future.

“Thanks for the offer,” she mewed softly, suddenly slightly uncomfortable with the grandiosity of the offer. A home was not something she was familiar with, and in that way, it was something she observed to be sacred. Curiosity lit her gaze as it fell on the ginger tomcat. “Though I probably won’t make it to be as old as you. I’m likely to do something stupid and get myself killed before I even have kits.”

His last comment fell on her ears, and the smirk was back. She lowered her head to place it on her forepaws, leveling her eyes with the sleeping birds. “What’s your fancy with them, anyway? There’s got to be a story here.”

[Otter]

Oddly enough, Eli believed her when she said she'd probably die before having kits. It was not a nice thought, nor was it a happy one, but the ragged ginger tomcat found himself looking at the young loner and wondering, quite seriously, if she was right. Despite what he'd said, times were harder now. More twoelgs meant less prey, less trees, and more dogs. Who knew what would happen within the next couple dozen moons?

Luckily, the she-cat turned to a less morbid topic as she lay down and gzed at his birds. “What’s your fancy with them, anyway? There’s got to be a story here.”

No story, just instinct, he thought, shrugging his shoulders. Aloud he mewed, "I would think you would understand it better than most, being a she-cat." No sexism was meant, but he did tilt his head to one side and consider the she-cat in interest. "I feel about these chicks the way she-cats feel about their kits. Or...I feel almost the same way. I don't know why, and the feeling is unexplainable." He shrugged once more and gazed tenderly down at the fluffy yellow things, still sound asleep. The difference between him and a mother she-cat was that he would not die to defend these chicks. They were, after all, just birds.

"Perhaps living so long with just my sister has forced me to find something to protect. Come to think about it, I wonder how I'd've been if I'd ever been a father. I'd probably have smothered my poor kits." He shook his head at the amusing thought, knowing it to be true. He would have been ridiculously protective of any kits he had been responsible for; his memory of his own stupid past mistakes would have guaranteed that.

"And so you never plan on settling down, then?" he asked suddenly, turning the topic of conversation from him and to her. He'd told her all about himself, hadn't he? It was her turn. "Always plan to be a wanderer?"

[SCARlett]

Fox blinked and shrugged, keeping her eyes on the chicks instead of meeting the gaze of the older male. He spoke of kits and queens, assuming that she knew what he meant, and in a way, she sort of did. Only a little. She had yet to have kits of her own, and if she was to be honest, she wasn’t sure if she wanted them. Life on the streets was undoubtedly different from life in a home or life with a mate in a nice warm den. She had been born a kittypet, but a sense of selfish survival had been engrained into her so that it was as tightly wound as the strings of her chromosomes. As Eli gazed affectionately down the the bright yellow puffballs, she marveled at her lack of understanding.

“I suppose so,” she murmured softly, gently kneading the tip of her tail with a paw. Hesitantly, she licked the outline of her lips with the tip of her tongue before speaking. “My father was never smothering. He was young and didn’t really know how to take care of me, and so we traveled. I learned from him what I would never have learned if he had been the type to baby his kits.” She paused briefly, wearing an expression as if contemplating her next words. The ghost of a smirk burgeoned over her muzzle.

“I must have turned out very differently from my littermates.”

His next question caught her by surprise although it should not have. They were, after all, on the topic, and she should have expected him to ask something of the sort. Still, that didn’t mean she knew how to answer, and she took a minute to consider.

“I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess so. Everyday has been about living to see the next. I’ve never really had the time or energy to look moons into the future.” The statement wasn’t meant to be deep or philosophical. It was simply fact, and she was unfazed by it. She had always been a cat who lived in the moment, enjoying moonlight when it shined, dancing in the rain when it stormed. “What would I do otherwise? All I really know to do is travel, and all the two-legs want cute little kittens, not scraggly mangy fleabags like me. Besides, I’d go insane within two days in a two-leg home.”

She purred in laughter. Yeah, that sounded about right.

[Otter]

Most of what she said could be answered with silence; she was reminiscing, and there was no need for Eli to interrupt or comment. But as she spoke, there was one thing the ragged old tomcat had to reply to:

“What would I do otherwise? All I really know to do is travel, and all the two-legs want cute little kittens, not scraggly mangy fleabags like me. Besides, I’d go insane within two days in a two-leg home.”

A purr rumbled from the tom's throat, and he nodded his head knowingly. "You're right; no twoleg wants a wild, feral she-cat as a pet. You wouldn't be taken in by a regular twoleg home," he mewed, his words full of truth but tinged with amusement and teasing. "Who would want a crazy youngster like you? But..." he trailed off here, glancing around at his home lovingly. "Farm twolegs couldn't care less who lives in their barns, just as long as the animals aren't killed and the mice and rats are kept back. Living here allows you to live like a loner, but with the comforts and security of a kittypet."

It was true, and Eli was content with the fact. Others would not be, he knew. Fox herself probably would not appreciate the fact. Most wild cats did not like to take the easy way out and live like kittypets. In fact, most wild cats would scorn Eli's way of life, call him half-and-half, a kittypet pretending to be a loner. But what would he say to them? He was too old to care.

"Now don't disregard or accept my offer right now. You've got a long time before you'd be willing to settle down, if you make it that long. Just think about it." He shrugged his narrow shoulders and stood up, causing the chicks to awaken with little peeps of surprise. They surged to their feet and tottered over to the hens, who were once again watching the two cats with a hint of suspicion. Purring after the little balls of fluff, he turned to the she-cat and beckoned her with his tail.

Trusting her to follow him, the old tomcat made his way up a ladder and into the hayloft. Piles and piles of hay lay about, as well as patches of rags and blankets. "Soft place to sleep," he mewed, glancing over his shoulder at her. "High above the floor. Some foxes know how to climb the ladder, but badgers and dogs aren't smart enough. When you're old, security is the best thing in the world."

He sat back, surveying his home, and wondered for the first time in awhile where Virgnia had gone off to. He wouldn't have minded introducing the two she-cats. Perhaps Virginia could have done something to convince Fox that she wouldn't always have to be a loner--that a safe haven was available for her if she ever looked for it.

For now, it seemed, it was up to him. "Plenty of mice to catch, a safe place to sleep, shelter from the weather...no cat could ask for a better place to come to once age starts to catch up with them, don't you think?" He looked her over with the affectionate amber gaze of an old farm cat and tried to read in her eyes or face if he was getting through. Somehow, he didn't think he was, and the thought saddened him.

[SCARlett]

While others may have taken ‘wild’ and ‘feral’ to be offensive adjectives, Fox only grinned in proud agreement. The terms humoured her as well as described her, and she was oddly pleased to hear the old cat say them. Perhaps it meant that she had not gone soft in recent years although there was no reason to think why she would have. But as Eli once again implicitly offered her a home in his, she wondered why he was so determined to help a stranger. Or perhaps they weren’t truly strangers anymore. She had, after all, heard what may have accounted to be an abridged version of his life story, and she, in turn, had revealed more about herself than she usually did. It had been an interesting interaction.

With curious eyes, she watched him stand and distinguish himself from the mass of tiny chickens. At his command, she followed silently, joining him at the landing atop the ladder he scaled. As he described the advantages of the place, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Indeed. You seem to have it all figured out,” she mewed softly in reply, unable to keep a warm note of amusement out of her purr. The she-cat glanced at her companion again, taking note of his appearance now that she was better able to. Curled up, much of him had remained a mystery to her, but now that he stood beside her, she was able to see that he really was as old as he claimed to be. And yet he seemed content, as if dying in this hayloft with the chickens below was something he would readily accept. Suddenly, she wondered if her own father was as Eli was now. He had to be approaching the same age, after all. The truth was, she didn’t know. She hadn’t seen him in moons.

Perhaps she’d tell him of this place if she ran into him.

Plenty of mice to catch, a safe place to sleep, shelter from the weather...no cat could ask for a better place to come to once age starts to catch up with them, don't you think?

She smirked. Was he a salesman or something?

“I hear you, old timer, and I’ll keep the place in mind,” she replied calmly, passing her gaze from one side of the loft to the other, taking it all in. “You’re mad—you know, about those chicks—but you’re right. This is a nice place. I imagine my father’s getting around to that age when security becomes the most important thing in the world… I’ve not seen him for a while, but if I run into him, I might point him this way.” It was mostly her musing out loud, but she figured it was an idea worth running pass the tom. Then, a grin spread over her lips.

“After a lengthy lecture on the chickens, of course. But I suppose even madness deserves a continuation, and chickens deserve a loopy old tom to sit around and babysit.”

Soft echoing purrs of laughter filled the barn and joined the dust and sunshine. Fox looked around again, wearing a vague smile.

The world was quiet here.

[Otter]

The young loner expertly directed the topic of their conversation away from herself and on to her father, a person Eli would not have expected her to mention. Most loners he had met did not much like to speak of their parents.

Regardless of the fact that she was changing the subject, Eli listened to Fox's words and nodded his head quickly. "Yes, yes, tell him to come along over here. Virginia and I could use some company. Only...yes, do let him know that chick-killing is not a part of our agenda here." The old ginger tom shuddered to think of a cat barging into his home and taking his pick of the little chicks Eli loved so much.

If the father is anything like the daughter, Virginia and I could be gettnig ourselves one interesting roomamte, he thought, shooting Fox a calculating glance. To think, if I had ever had a might I might have a daughter her age. It was both intriguing and saddening, and Eli had to turn his thoughts away from such things.

"You speak as if you have not seen your father in quite some time," Eli mewed tentatively after a moment. He would not be surprised if she ignored his words; most loners would have. But, then again, Fox was friendlier than most loners (friendlier to him, at least).