The Next Day

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The young stray cat, coming back from a little hunting trip, was trotting happily back to the alley next to Alastor's house.

A mouse hanging from her jaws, the cat's ears are perked, tail swishing with every step.

This is gonna be delicious!

She thought, purring happily as she rounded the corner back to the alleyway.

She froze, the scent of dog hitting her nose. Her ears laid flat when she spotted a dog sniffing near the box she had slept in.

The same box she had left Alastor's handkerchief in...

Orange eyes wide, the cat crouched, observing.

Maybe the dog will leave?...

She watched as the dog stepped forward, now sniffing at the maroon handkerchief, licking it a bit.

Dropping the mouse, the black cat bounded towards the dog.

Hearing her oncoming pawsteps, the dog turned to look over its shoulder... only to be met with a scratch to the face, causing it to yelp.

Landing in front of the box, the cat hisses, back arched.

Mine! She spat.

The dog looked down at the young cat in front of it and growled, hackles raised.

The young stray then hissed again, swiping a paw at the dog.

Go away!

The dog snarled, then barked. Another bark sounded as another dog stepped out from behind the trash cans.

Eyes widening in fear, the cat backed away with a hiss, ears laid flat, hackles raised.

Both of the dogs growled, stalking forward.

Then they lunged.

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Alastor sighed, sitting down at his kitchen table, unfolding a newspaper.

A smug grin appeared on his face as he spotted the news article reporting the murder he had committed the night before.

He chuckled in amusement, setting down the newspaper. Taking his glasses off, he cleaned them on his shirt, still grinning proudly.

Hearing a dog bark outside, Alastor rolled his eyes with a frown. He had never been very fond of dogs and found them rather annoying.

Suddenly there was a burst of noise outside, consisting of growls, barks, snarls and hisses.

"What in the world?..." Alastor muttered, putting his glasses back on and standing up, slowly walking towards the front door.

The sound of his trash cans getting knocked over with a loud crash caused him to grab his cane before whipping the door open.

"Stupid mutts..." He growled, rushing down the front steps.

Wielding his cane, Alastor rounded the corner of his house, walking into the alleyway.

He spotted two dogs doing what appeared to be tearing at something behind a knocked over trash can.

One of the dogs hearing him approach, it looked up, ears perked, mouth stained with blood.

Blood?!.....There's no way I've thrown bloody items in that trash can! Alastor thought, panicked slightly.

He stepped forward, waving his cane, shouting.

"Get out of here! Get! Shoo!"

He banged his cane against one of the overturned trashcans, creating a loud clanging sound that echoed through the alley.

The dogs yelped and scattered, running away with a whimper of fear.

With a satisfied huff, Alastor turned to the trashcans. He saw what appeared to be blood on the ground, leading to whatever the dogs were chewing at.

"Shit...." he muttered.

Taking a few steps forward, he peeked around the trashcan, and stopped, his breath hitching for a moment.

The dogs hadn't been tearing at bloody clothing at all...

It was a cat.

It looked young, and had clearly lost the fight against the two dogs, missing bits of fur and had a few bite marks, along with a gash or two.

Alastor crouched down, pushing the trash can to the side to get a better view of the injured feline.

Hearing the trashcan scrape against the ground, the cat opened its eyes weakly, its gaze eventually falling on Alastor. Its orange eyes widened slightly, even as it lay breathing heavily from pain.

The black cat meowed weakly then fell unconscious.

Realizing it was still alive, Alastor's gaze softened. His mother liked cats. He remembered how she liked to feed the stray ones that roamed near the house.

He looked back at the cat.

With a small nod, Alastor decided to help the poor stray. He glanced around the alleyway, eyebrows raising when he spotted his maroon handkerchief.

How did that...?

The same handkerchief he thought he had lost the night before...

He looked from the bloody handkerchief to the injured cat.

Huh....

Grabbing the box the stray had used as a sleeping spot, Alastor gently scooped up the black feline, laying her gently in the box, then grabbing the bloody handkerchief and tucking it in the box next to her.

With a soft sigh, Alastor stood up, holding the box carefully. He then turned and made his way back into the house.

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Ugh...

Slowly regaining consciousness, the young stray opened her eyes, blinking a few times.

I'm........alive?

The last thing she remembered was getting thrown against a trashcan by one of the dogs as they attacked her.

With a soft hiss of pain, she lifted her head to gaze at her surroundings.

She was in the box she had slept in the night before, a towel now tucked underneath her.

But the box was no longer in the alleyway, as it was on a table in the kitchen of a rather nice house, the early morning light peeking in through the curtains.

Her eyes widened as she recognized it as the interior of Alastor's house.

Why am I in his house?...

The black cat shifted slightly with another hiss of pain, and was suddenly aware that her wounds were wrapped in bandages.

Her ears perked, looking at the bandages.

Did...... did he do this?

She blinked, then looked up, hearing the floor creak.

Alastor had walked into the kitchen, noticing that the cat was awake, and he smiled.

"Ah! You're awake, thank goodness, you gave me a bit of a scare. You're lucky I scared those dogs off, or they're would've been nothing left of you to fix up!"

He paused, taking the glasses off his face, cleaning them with his shirt before putting them back on.

"I'm much more of a cat person anyways. I'm Alastor, pleasure to meet you."

The stray looked up at him curiously, ears perked.

Wait! The handkerchief!

The cat looked around suddenly, before locating the handkerchief in the box next to her.

She grabbed it in her mouth and attempted to stand up, but hisses in pain as her legs give out and she drops the handkerchief.

Alastor steps forward, now standing over the box.

"Ah ah ahh, you mustn't strain yourself, little one. You need to let those wounds heal."

Frustrated, the feline let out a meow, pushing the handkerchief towards Alastor.

Raising an eyebrow, Alastor chuckles as he carefully reaches into the box and takes the handkerchief, observing it.

"I see you managed to track me down,  you little detective..." He says, amused.

He then tucks it in his pocket and looks back at the black cat.

"...Let's keep that a secret, shall we?"

Nodding her head, the cat lets out a meow.

Alastor grins and reaches a hand out to the cat, attempting to pet it, but wanting to let the cat sniff his hand first.

The young cat's ears perk as she looks at his outstretched hand. She sniffs it hesitantly.

He smells like blood...

With a purr she presses her head against his hand, letting her pet him.

Slightly surprised on how sweet the cat is for being a stray, Alastor pets her, being careful of her wounds.

"You're a sweet little darling, aren't you?" says Alastor, scratching the cat under the chin, causing her bobbed tail to flick. "It's a wonder you're on the streets..."

The cat meows, flicking an ear.

Her stomach growls, causing her ears to perk as she looked at her belly, then back to Alastor, hopeful.

Some food sounds good right now...

Alastor laughs, then gently taps her on the nose.

"Let's get you something to eat, shall we?"

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Looks like the little kitty has made a friend 👀

And they both appear to have a taste for blood... what do you guys think?

BTW, the italics represent the thoughts going through the cat's head.

The little kitty will have a name soon :)

Don't forget to vote! ☆