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[Heath morte dre Soul]

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aw

The black thing hung from his hand. The rain matted and tattered fur dancing in the evening breeze while its eyes watched the trail he made behind him. Its yellow and green orbs were clouded, in a haze that looked from this world to the other side. Limp and lifeless he only needed to grasp the base of its bent tail as the rest dangled with no opposition. It wasn’t a kill to be proud of, or even worth the effort. But he had been looking at him. Staring and judging with no right to either. Cats were conceded creatures, feeding on the vile and vermin of the earth, making them vermin themselves. You are what you eat… Heath would starve before touching a rat to his maw, and yet the feline creatures savored their blood and flesh. The concrete beneath his paws was slick with rain that had just finally passed, though the clouds remained. The sun would make an appearance in the last hours of day, leaving the world in a shadow. Crumbled buildings lined the road he walked on, but his eyes lingered on the cracks of the broken road. Swinging the cat idly he wondered for a moment what it might taste like, but was more curious to know how far he could throw it. Its head swayed with his motions, the broken neck leaving such a fragile connection.

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