Post by trissea on Jul 30, 2008 10:46:29 GMT -5
'Shh...daddy's little girl...'
Scream awoke with a jolt, sitting up, panting slightly. Ugh! She curled her lip at the foul stench of the other cats. Here, in BloodClan, everything smelled of rotting flesh. Even flesh that wasn't rotting (which was rare- only she, Cowboy, Jag, and possibly Juliet were even halfway clean). She was alone- in her own little corner, far from the other cats, where she liked to plot the deputy's downfall. It wasn't power the pretty brown she-cat craved- it was Jag. Jag, who had origionally welcomed her into his group- the closest friend she'd had in a while- who had unpredictably let himself fall for Juliet. Or maybe, more likely, he had been tricked. I'm only fooling myself,' she snarled inwardly, standing and stretching her stiffened legs.
The dream came every night, each night more real. Wes was there- it was when she'd killed him, back when she was 'Kate'. As he was dying, he gave her that blood-covered, delusional smile and uttered the three worst words that Scream had ever heard- 'Daddy's little girl'. She wasn't anyone's little girl- (despite Cowboy's constant disagreement) and especially not Wes'. But inside she knew he was right. She was his daughter. Part of her would always hold part of him in her- what was once Wes is now partly her. As long as she lives, the dark tabby tom lives on. And she had proved herself to be exactly his daughter by killing him, every night in her dreams.
Shaking off the memories, she began to groom herself, methodically licking, and curling her lip at the foul taste of dirt and whatever else caked onto her pelt.
Scream awoke with a jolt, sitting up, panting slightly. Ugh! She curled her lip at the foul stench of the other cats. Here, in BloodClan, everything smelled of rotting flesh. Even flesh that wasn't rotting (which was rare- only she, Cowboy, Jag, and possibly Juliet were even halfway clean). She was alone- in her own little corner, far from the other cats, where she liked to plot the deputy's downfall. It wasn't power the pretty brown she-cat craved- it was Jag. Jag, who had origionally welcomed her into his group- the closest friend she'd had in a while- who had unpredictably let himself fall for Juliet. Or maybe, more likely, he had been tricked. I'm only fooling myself,' she snarled inwardly, standing and stretching her stiffened legs.
The dream came every night, each night more real. Wes was there- it was when she'd killed him, back when she was 'Kate'. As he was dying, he gave her that blood-covered, delusional smile and uttered the three worst words that Scream had ever heard- 'Daddy's little girl'. She wasn't anyone's little girl- (despite Cowboy's constant disagreement) and especially not Wes'. But inside she knew he was right. She was his daughter. Part of her would always hold part of him in her- what was once Wes is now partly her. As long as she lives, the dark tabby tom lives on. And she had proved herself to be exactly his daughter by killing him, every night in her dreams.
Shaking off the memories, she began to groom herself, methodically licking, and curling her lip at the foul taste of dirt and whatever else caked onto her pelt.