The creeping shadow made his stepped approach towards the unsuspecting prey, drifting under a half-moon, baleful light mixing with the harsh flames of the gas street lamps. The shadows twist at odd angles as they're caught between the two sources.

A dark creature moving with an animal grace scampers across the paving stones and slips between the crooked layers of shade. An extraordinary creature, flitting in and out of view as it moves across and inside the gloomy veil of night. carrying a small bag with him, as he stole through the night.

Darwin was in position, he could see the open window, the item he required was inside, guarded by the evilest beast. He steadied himself and set to the sweet revenge. He would have those precious salts, and all would be a victory for him.

He made a silent entry, much like he had the first time, waiting to spot the guardian scourge before entering its domain.

He spotted a glimmer of something white down below, in a moment of impulse, he pounced downwards, hoping to catch his foe by surprise, landing he tore in furiously with savage fist falls, lashing out at the clouds of coarse dust that sprung up around him like smoke clouds.

He paused a moment as he tasted the air. "What!?-" then he was struck from behind.

He didn't have time to realize that what he'd just plunged his claws into was in fact, a sack of the very salts he came to pilfer, and not his real opponent, who'd been waiting for him across the room, peaceably sleeping under his master's large leather apron, until awoken by Darwin's banshee call as he murdered the innocent bag of salts in front of him.

The fight was frantic and brutal, each scratching and clawing for the greatest advantage in their whirling struggle. The white beast's strength matched Darwin's own powers tit for tat.

Darwin hurled a bolt of Pneuma power against his opponent, blasting him away as with the sound of blood roared in his ears. A hissing bolt of white lightning made a single-minded stab towards his ebony form through the cloud of scattered salts.

Darwin ducked the blow but the sudden pain as he felt something tear away in the exchange set fire to his already raging blood. He let loose a cry as he grabbed his ear, something warm a sticky receiving his touch. Darwin wheeled in wrathful destruction, only to narrowly miss a blow to the nose.

He retaliated by biting deep into the fur of the white aggressor, searching for the warm flesh beneath to tear open. His opponent followed with a grapple, sinking eight evil hooks deep into his side as the pain forced Darin's jaws to seize shut around the neck of his enemy.

They turned and tumbled in this strangling embrace as each turn charged the battle to a new fever pitch. throwing up debris as this collision of opposites resulted in a howling cyclone ripping through the small room like a violent typhoon, as the turned over the countertops and scattered the hanging knives, links of sausages and blocks of cheese were hurled about as if from catapults.

Darwin seized a long thin knife and wielded it like a clumsy blade, until his opponent knocked a spice jar on his head from one of the shelves. The pot collided with his skull as a splintering sound could be heard.

Darwin could feel the blood on his face, and he wasn't quite sure whose it was. He glowered at his opponent, who likewise was battered, but still ablaze with a murderous rage, waiting with a predator's patience for an opportunity. Waiting to lunge at him from his perch.

Darwin returned this with harsh calculation, quietly anticipating the next strike and already planning his response, acting ahead by several moves like a chess master plotting his game. Fueled by the overbearing need to humiliate his opponent utterly.

A few seconds of this eternity passed as this starring contest flashed between them, and then just as abruptly ended as a new voice called out into the dark.

"Ivan? Ivan, what the hell you old cat? Rats fighting back that much?"

The white clan enemy turned for a moment as both turned to inspect the strange presence of the master of this home. Darwin seized the dropped blade and hurled at his opponent, the near miss knocking him from the shelf, while Darwin bolted to preserve himself from the oncoming wrath of the store owner by dashing for the opened window.

A lamp cut the dark like a knife as a large happy-looking man stared down at his prized champion.

"Ivan! oh you poor kitty. " The man set the lamp aside while Darwin made a hissing exit.

"You wretched, Devil! Get out! Out before I skin you alive!" he roared.

Darwin didn't wait, he fled, the love of life compelled him, but the sting of revenge also burned within him as he did. He would have blood for this, on both the cat and his Ogre master, they would both Suffer for this!

The shopkeeper watched the black shape disappear from the window and breathed a sigh of relief, that was by far the most devilish creature he'd ever seen and was glad to be rid of it. Turning back to the hurting white form in his arms.

"Now stop fussing. I'll make it all better now. Stop that, you sleep while I get some milk for you, Hush, hush now little Ivan. poor kitty, who would do this to such sweet kitty." Ivan rolled in his arms as he whispered sweet compliments to the brave cat. The shop owner chuckled to himself again, not bad for an old Sea Cat, he thought. Couldn't believe his brother would part with such a noble creature.

"Now let's get you fixed up Ivan, I'll have something special for you in the morning."

Darwin was sulking in his lair, hurling whatever came to hand across the abandoned room.

"Damn it, damn it all!" he cried hurling the great blue stone into the cobwebbed shadows.

"I was so close to getting what I wanted! so close to disposing of that beastly animal! Only for that grotesque creature to appear and shatter my plans." He threw some iron chisel like a javelin as it impacted the wall with a draft thump before tumbling into further darkness.

He struck one of the glass orbs and set the hard sphere flying, where it struck something harder than itself and shattered with a cracking sound. His claws began to rack the walls with screams and towels of pained emotions as his ego bled.

By the time he was done, his hidden lair was a scattered mess as he searched through the wreckage of his tantrum. surveying the damages done by his own hands.