The quiet streets of England were interrupted by the noise of a loud car.

It is rare to see a car in

this area — filled with apartments where school kids and elderly people live. The elders barely
come out, and the school kids walk to school. Few stop to feed me. I get fed raw meat, rarely a
cat treat. Some kids bring me catnip toys, which I stash away in my secret hideout, or where I
live. I was one of the few stray cats in the town, and many hated me. Not many cats — there
were barely five more. I meant many workfolks. They’re like bigger versions of the school kids.
They use cars, and they kick sand at me or yell at me to go away, waving their arms. And you
might be wondering who I am, so I’ll tell you.

I am Azure, a stray cat who is six months, and I was abandoned when I was a kitten. I must’ve
been an unwanted kitten. I don’t know who my parents are, who they could be.

Maybe they’re dead.

I know you're thinking this: What a dark thought. But it might as well be true. Plus, all the other
strays older than me said that they haven’t a clue on who my parents could be — or which
workfolk or school kid or elderly abandoned me. They say that I might as well have gotten lost
and was never found. But I don’t remember a thing. And don’t ask me why. Why? Because I was
only a week old. And how did I survive? Well, I can tell you that among other things.

When I was abandoned, or as others say “ran off and got lost”, I was found by Sprout, a stray
she-cat nursing kittens my age. She took me in and took care of me until I was six months old,
when I went to be free. She told me this:

“It’s ‘bout time you find your own home. Adoptions are tomorrow.”

And adoptions were tomorrow. Everyone else except me got a home, because I didn’t show up. I
had to find my real home. The thought of it wouldn’t stop haunting me. Would I ever find my
home? If I didn’t, where would I go?

______________________________________________________________________
“Why are you climbing that tree? It’s dangerous!” Satin, a house cat who lives in one of the
apartments near my secret hideout, meowed.

“What? It’s the greatest tree in the world.” I told her. I hooked my claws onto the tree log and
continued climbing what Satin called “the deadly tree”. Satin is an eleven month old kitten, her
fur is a sandy color and her eyes are, well… leaf green. She has six siblings and a wonderful
home. She was born one month after me, so that makes me older. We’re friends, and Satin is
constantly telling me that the stuff I do is dangerous. Plus, the tree I’m climbing is not a bit
dangerous. The trees that truly are dangerous are the ones with a red string tied around them,
signaling not to climb. Sometimes, the workfolk put fences around the trees and citrus spray to
keep the cats away, because they think cats are dumb and don’t know anything. The other cats in
the area are, well, they’re ok. Just the problem with them is that they scare kits with tales of
forest cats — wild rogues that live in packs in the forest near my hideout. I climbed off the tree
and hopped onto the fence. Behind them was the forest.

“Azure,” Satin said “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

“Of course I won’t.” I told her. But all I wanted to be was free — truly free. Free as the wind.
Hunting mice, climbing all the trees I want, away from kicking workfolk and collars and
poisoning.

“It’s dangerous out there! Trust me, my parents were strays and they knew what it was like.”
Satin meowed.
“I just want to get a tiny pea— AY!” I hissed as I tilted off the fence and onto the other side,

The forest side.