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There were many times I heard the word. "Freedom" It was all I wanted. As a younger littermate, I would often attempt to be stealthy like the warriors in stories, and escape the confines of home only to be let down by clumsy kitten-like feet. Though I always woke mother at night, she never called after me. It was her wish that I gave life, and to carry on our bloodline through a strong male. I resented her wishes. My absent father was one of many that she offered herself to, much like a common whore. As I grew older, I learned of more stories of the other Taamir clans like my own. Only these warriors were prized for the skills they possessed. One such story was that of a great pale-striped Taamir with smoky grey fur. His name was Kitamaat. "Beast of the Falling Snow" He carried a mighty bow said to have been blessed by the gods and soaked in a lizard kings blood with arrows made of rich ebony. I followed the stories as if my life depended on it. My first bow, then my first hunt came quickly after. I can remember the scent of blood in the air and the sound of my rhythmic heartbeat as the first arrow soared through the air into the ribcage of the large boar. And the second arrow, granting me humility as it soared past him and into a tree. But the boar was fallen as the 3rd and 4th arrows, like lightening, jolted his body to a halt. I learned to hunt well, and no longer did kitten-like feet awake the dreams of my aging mother. There were patches of grey I remember. Her labored breathing, the night I went in search of the other Taamir clans that seemed to hold my own dreams.

I traveled for almost 2 years, hunting with more accuracy and stealth every day, not yet an adult but skilled enough to fight with one. The first year I stumbled across a few minor civilizations. I learned the existence of varieties of people. Some human, others more animal like my self, but none of my own kind. At one point, while I was hunting near a stream, I stumbled across a young human woman with her child. I watched them for a few moments from my concealed rest, remembering the mother I had left behind. I wondered if she felt any heartache when I didn't come home the next morning, as I had done a million times before. I thought about how this mother would feel if her tiny child had fallen in the stream to be eaten by the foul serpents that swam in these waters. But these thoughts left as briefly as they came. For I couldn't recognize the bond between a mother and a child.

The second year began without warning. I happened across a trail of footprints. They weren't heavy boots like most human travelers wore. They were familiar. Smaller than my own, Clawed and clumsy. I followed the trail to an old tree where broken branches and scratch marks were apparent. I quietly smirked to myself and felt a smile pull at the corner of my face, remembering my own clumsy encounters with hidden tree roots. The tracks continued on through thick bushes and tall grass. I caught the scent of cooking meats and hides being smoked. I stopped at the sight of a fire in the center at the bottom of what seemed like a small valley. The place was under cover of the dense forest. The tallest trees veiled much of the sky with a canopy of leaves. The few bare spots let in bright warm patches of sun. More blankets of tall grass grew in the sunspots. The green seemed to glitter in various shades. I stood in awe, staring at the beautiful place before me. Then I recalled the paw prints I had followed. Did they lead to this place? I searched the tracks only to find my self quietly laughing again to find that the kitten had basically rolled down the hill. A faint scent in the air was telling of the young female. She had captured a small rodent and in her overjoyed state, rushed into the territory to show off her kill. An occasional small meow could be heard from the tent-like homes. Larger than travelers tents. I snuck closer. A large dark furred male, dressed in a strange armor, was humoring the excited kitten that was holding up the surely dead rodent. Others went about their business, occasionally smiling at the little female. I contemplated for only moments before stepping into the open, out of the trees. At first the large Taamir reached to his side for his weapon. Then the worried look in his eyes fell away and as he looked upon me, covered in dirt and blood, his lips pulled back in a gentle smile. His name was Rakesh. A strong Taamir warrior. Many called him the protector. Scars along his arms told stories of his past. The young kittens' name was Aya. She was an orphan, a clan child. Seemingly too young to have already had her first kill and clumsy as the little ones come. Her fur was still the pale white like that of most newborns. Her colors hadn't even begun to show. Rakesh told me that he had went out to search for Aya's mother when she didn't return from a hunt about a year before. He found her body not far from a camp full of what they thought to be noblemen. Nobleman's arrows had pierced both her shoulders and both her hind quarters. The last arrow was found in the back of her skull. Rakesh didn't understand this kill. The arrow would have killed her, but what finished the beautiful Taamir, was a slit throat. It seemed to be a game of a sort. A cruel game. Aya's mother wasn't the only to disappear. She was the first of many. For months the sick game continued on. Once even a young kitten, only the age of 3 weeks had stumbled into the trees. Later that day she was found. 6 arrows were found in the tiny body. These men played close to the clan home. It was dangerous for all. Rakesh welcomed me but warned me to stay on my guard. They were planning something. Something to make the nobleman fear for their lives. Months passed. I grew close to Aya. We ate and slept near one another. We were both a form of outsider. I told her stories of my past and the tales of the great Kitamaat that lived in the mountains. Of the magic bow that he carried. The same tales that I was told. They seemed to comfort her in the night as the forests around us creaked and groaned. Another young one was taken and as the night came on, Rakesh and a few other Taamir stalked around the noblemens' camp. After much thought, he let an arrow fly into the heart of an unsuspecting guard. Then more arrows from Rakesh and the others piercing the armor and killing only 4 of the noblemen. The humans were panicking and screaming as chaos ensued. More of the humans began to emerge from the towers, dressed heavily in armor, and armed with dangerous weapons. They began to shoot back. These arrows were steel and jagged. One of our clan was shot in the shoulder, and Rakesh growled the order to retreat. They headed back to our camp. Though we had caught the noblemen off guard with our warning, we expected that it may only insight further war. To our surprise, a few days later, during Aya's first hunt with a bow in early morning, I spotted what appeared to be a single man, unarmored and seemingly unarmed, calling for "the great cat people" throughout the forest. His words were mostly foreign but few stood out. I quickly grabbed up the little white-furred child and fled back home. I found Rakesh by the fire and he quickly went to investigate. Aya had found a place by the younger littermates, telling them the same stories I told to keep her calm at night. I urged her back to our tent while Rakesh was gone. Hours passed and we grew uneasy as our protector was away. We felt vulnerable. Aya was admiring the bow I had made her earlier that day, fussing about not getting to use it, but curious as to why the air around the camp was so tense. I picked her up into my arms and holding her close told her that the world was well, and as long I was with her she would be well too. After a few moments she struggled to get down to play with the bow some more. Rakesh came out of the trees. I felt relief at first. But the relief quickly vanished as the noblemen accompanying him became apparent. Rakesh explained that the noblemen agreed to stop raiding the Taamir clan as they have underestimated the Taamir's strength. They hoped to live peacefully in midst of one another. We sat together around the fire. Few words exchanged. Aya and a few other little ones curiously sniffed around the noblemen. They smiled and held out their hands. All seemed well, but the tugging in my stomach told me that I was right to be cautious. A hiss escaped my lips at Aya, urging her to be cautious as well. Rakesh let out a warning growl, thinking I was being disrespectful to the agreement of peace. I quietly put my head down, grit my teeth and headed back to the tent. I didn't know what could possibly have corrupted Rakesh into believing their lies and realized it was the feeling of success that blinded him so. Soon it was clear that my suspicions were correct. They tried to trick us, offering friendship as well as sweet meats and water from the north that constantly seemed to be cold. Offering false forgiveness for killing our people for sport, and pleading words that they had underestimated our kind. But their words were hollow. The meat quickly rotted and the water bitter with poisons. Aya, my adopted daughter, in her clumsy, ignorant, kittenish ways, drank what was offered to her. She thought all was well now. She didn't know what it was to distrust. She returned home to me, her fur falling out in patches. She fell violently ill, seizing and convulsing. She opened her mouth wide, gasping for as much air as she could get. In her delirious state her black dilated eyes seemed to look through me. No medicine known to my people seemed to stop the effects of whatever had grasped her soul. I fell asleep curled around her, purring to try to soothe her convulsions. I awoke in the night by growls and hisses outside our home. Occasional yells of men, then cries of pain. Aya's body was stiff and curled into mine as if she was asleep. But her milky wide eyes told the story of death... At that moment I could hear nothing. The symphony of death outside was drowned out by perhaps the deafening break of my heart. The fires through the cracks of the thick hide walls were blurs through my tears. The cry of a mewing kitten pulled me closer to the edge of reality. It seemed that most of my people had fled into the woods. The nobles were in our camp, tearing apart everything they touched. One walked toward the roaring fire with a basket. Only then did I realize that the small mewing cry was coming from it. He threw the basket into the fire. I watched him horrified as he laughed, glancing around cautiously. It took everything inside of me to not tear through the cracked hide wall, half sobbing and in shock, wanting to cry out as I forced my claws into his stomach. Another man yelled to him, helping me regain a little focus. He walked toward his ally. The glimpse of furry kittens ears going up in flame caught my attention. A small body sizzling and boiling in the coals... I grabbed my bow and stalked the man. Followed them from their thought victory. Gripping the place where my heart was at the sight of every body or pair of little paws that I came across. The same paws that used to prowl and play in these tall grasses, and never would again. I watched the men closely for what felt like hours. Finally they began to gather their things and various other objects that belonged to my people. They were preparing to go back to hell I could only assume. Dawn was still a few hours away. I decided that their arrogance and impatience would be their death. I followed close behind the man that had thrown the basket in the fire. I stayed silent though I was full of rage and pain, wishing for that feeling to crush his skull under my hands. I grew closer...I could smell the sweat and blood...the blood of my clan...the death of my daughter...

I decoyed a snap of branches as I leapt far from where I waited. And as he turned around to gaze into what he thought to be an empty forest, I stood in front of him, baring my teeth like a ferocious animal. Before he had time to call out, I ripped out his throat with my claws. Blood stained my face as I tore downward into his chest. Maybe I was searching for a heart... There was a howl from a man up ahead, followed by another piercing cry. I launched myself off of the first nobleman's body and onto the one in front of him. Not realizing what had happened behind him, completely distracted by the gurgling sounds of blood and horror taking place in front of him as Rakesh, covered in blood, tore apart the others. Arrows flew from hidden places in the trees. The noblemen were falling quickly. I landed with my claws in the distracted mans shoulders throwing him forward onto the ground. My back claws firmly latched to his calf muscles, tearing the flesh in some places, leaving bloody paw prints as I landed on the ground behind him. His scream was cut short as I knelt down and snapped his neck. Tears came to my eyes as all grew silent. We had won. My vengeance was taken. I should have been happy at that moment. Falling to my knees, I let out a cry for my daughter, and in the place where relief and glory should have been, I felt the agony of loss.