Post by pine on Sept 5, 2009 19:03:50 GMT -5
Cankle was feeling rather grumpy today, but, being Cankle, this wasn't all that unusual. It actually would have been considerably wierder if he wasn't feeling grumpy. But such was Cankle's life.
The ancient brown tabby and white tom was currently stretched out as far as his creaky bones would allow on the floor of what used to be the lobby of a skiing lodge. As ususual, it was too damned cold. Damned. That was one of those words his twolegs used to use before they went and left and never came back. The other twolegs had come and taken all the stuff out of his nest, but they hadn't gotten him, no-siree. he had gotten away and made it up here. This, of course, was moons ago, when he was still young enough to lack the sense not to go somewhere this cold.
He yawned, displaying his rotten teeth and releasing a cloud of white vapor along with a scent strong enough to knock out a wolf. Good thing there was enough prey in here for him to live off. He was too old to go running all over the tundra for a few skinny voles. At least he didn't complain about it like some cats. Young cats these days, no spine at all. Back in his day, he could have caught twice the prey in half the time. These cats had it soft anyway, winters were much easier nowadays.
A loud creak suddenly broke the silence of the deserted lodge. Cankle knew it was loud because he heard it and he was half deaf.
"Who's there?" he demanded in a croaky voice. "I can hear you, and I'm warning you, I can beat you so hard you'll go crying back to your mother like a lost kit." He rolled over and clambered awkwardly to his paws, bristling indignantly.
The ancient brown tabby and white tom was currently stretched out as far as his creaky bones would allow on the floor of what used to be the lobby of a skiing lodge. As ususual, it was too damned cold. Damned. That was one of those words his twolegs used to use before they went and left and never came back. The other twolegs had come and taken all the stuff out of his nest, but they hadn't gotten him, no-siree. he had gotten away and made it up here. This, of course, was moons ago, when he was still young enough to lack the sense not to go somewhere this cold.
He yawned, displaying his rotten teeth and releasing a cloud of white vapor along with a scent strong enough to knock out a wolf. Good thing there was enough prey in here for him to live off. He was too old to go running all over the tundra for a few skinny voles. At least he didn't complain about it like some cats. Young cats these days, no spine at all. Back in his day, he could have caught twice the prey in half the time. These cats had it soft anyway, winters were much easier nowadays.
A loud creak suddenly broke the silence of the deserted lodge. Cankle knew it was loud because he heard it and he was half deaf.
"Who's there?" he demanded in a croaky voice. "I can hear you, and I'm warning you, I can beat you so hard you'll go crying back to your mother like a lost kit." He rolled over and clambered awkwardly to his paws, bristling indignantly.