Grass bent under Rusty's paws, barely making any sound. He had to be quiet, or else his prey would hear him. He opened his mouth to smell the air.

Mouse.

As he stalked forward, he saw his target. It nibbled on a seed, blind to the hungry tomcat behind it. Rusty's eyes expanded as he wiggled his hindquarters and leapt, unsheathing his claws and aiming for the mouse's small grey body. The bell on his bright blue collar rang loudly, startling it. The mouse's black beady eyes met Rusty as it turned around and let out a shrill squeak of alarm. It tried to scrambled out of the tabby's grasp but it was too late, the tom had already pounced onto the struggling creature. He leaned forward and took a victorious bite of the mouse's neck.

The meat didn't taste like meat at all, in fact, it felt like something fluffy. What was wrong with the mouse? Rusty stared in bewilderment, before turning to spit out the strange meat.

But instead of spitting it out, the world around him shifted. Rusty was in a pink cat bed, next to a bowl stuffed with dry brown pellets and one filled with water. Where did the grass go? What happened to his mouse?

Rusty began to panic, but soon realization dawned on him. The reason the mouse tasted weird was because it was just part of a dream. The only thing the tom had actually sunk his fangs into was his own bed, which explained the strange taste.

He spat out the cotton between his fangs, and got up from his bed. Padding over to his food bowl, he took a cautious bite. Erk, the pellets tasted horrible as ever. Flattening his ears, he stalked off.

He approached a tall wooden door that had a small flap just around his size. It was the only thing that let him go freely outside, and he tended to bask in every second of it.

He pushed his way through the flap, feeling the familiar tingle of grass against his paw pads. Exiting into the backyard, the sun shone down on him, filling his fur with a cozy warmth. He bounded towards the fence that weaved around the Twoleg den he called home and unsheathed his claws. He leapt, scrambling for holds in the wood and heaved himself upwards. The orange tabby reached the top of the fence and found a spot to sit down, curling his tail around himself contently.

His gaze drifted naturally towards the forest. The strong brown tree trunks with mighty emerald leaves made his paws itch with the urge to run. The chatter of birds dotted the woodland, and a faraway brook gurgled as if it was calling for the tabby to enter its waters.

His thoughts were interrupted by the scraping of claws, as another cat struggled to get up the fence. Rusty already knew exactly who it was. "Hey Smudge." He said to a plump white and black cat, who was panting from the effort of climbing. "Hello Rusty! What are you up to?" He mewed inquisitively, sitting down next to Rusty.

"Do you think my Housefolk would let me go into the forest?" Rusty said. Smudge sighed, turning to look at Rusty with his amber eyes. "You know it's too risky for you to go in there, Rusty." He mewed with a tinge of fear. "It's the home of the Wolfwalkers, Rusty! Wildcat by day, wolf by night. They'll eat you alive if you go to the-" Rusty silenced the tom with a flick of his tail.

"Smudge, you haven't even seen a wolf, or a wildcat for that matter. I'll be alright." Rusty argued. Smudge opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. "Just, be cautious out there, okay? I don't want you getting hurt." He leapt off the fence and into his Housefolk's den, tail twitching anxiously.

Rusty turned away and focused his attention on the ground. Leaping swiftly, he landed in a patch of shrubs. He took one wary look back towards the fence, and then sped towards the forest confidently. He felt more free than he had ever been before. Grass flattened under his paws and ferns brushed against his sides. The sweet aroma of wildflowers mixed together to create an earthy scent.

Suddenly, the ferns and plant-life disappeared, leaving Rusty in a circle of flat grass. Trees surrounded every side of the clearing. Skidding to a halt, he opened his mouth, confused, but was quickly distracted as he tasted the scent of mouse on the wind. He instinctively dropped down to a hunting crouch, eager to taste real prey.

He placed his paws carefully, making sure not to cause any sounds. Out of nowhere, the mouse shot past him. It moved desperately, it's eyes wide in terror. Something huge and grey barrelled after it, and the sound of crunching bones echoed through the forest.

Rusty was scared of what had happened, yet curious of what that grey creature was. His curiosity got the better of him and he padded towards the noise, stopping in a small patch of ferns. A humungous grey wolf was ripping off chunks of mouse meat from the preys limp body. Rusty shrank deeper into the plant life, trying to blend in despite his bright orange pelt. The only thing he knew about wolves were that the wouldn't hesitate to eat him.

The grey wolf stopped eating and lifted its head, staring

right.

at.

Rusty.