Disclaimer: I don't own An American Tail. I don't own the picture (cover). Or the song.
(qwertuno and SilentReadersMatter)
(Au where Fievel didn't find his parents.)
(Hope you enjoy.)
Fievel's survival chances were high.
A couple of more days passed since the family job incident. The little travelled to a new location, using the shadows to hide his appearance.
Masking his scent proved impossible.
So the cats currently hunting Fievel smelled him from a distance. Hiding in the darkness was his only option if he wanted to stay alive.
And boy he wanted to stay alive.
The cats darted place to place. Their voices taunting the mice to come out and play. The brutality was just absurd.
Don't find me.
Fievel leaped into a whole. Finding a ladder of ivy and climbing it to the near top even with occasionally scratched because of the thorns.
Shoot. Shoot.
Mice held natural fear of the cats. As they were on the prowls, fangs bared in deep growl.
It reminds Fievel so much of Russia.
He still remembers flames. The patters, even where they first ablaze. A child should not know this.
Yet he does.
After he hears complete silence, Fievel silently crawls out the hidden hole and bolts.
He isn't becoming prey anytime soon.
***
The streets aren't for wussies.
Fievel learned that time a while back. When he first became new and needed to learn the established sociology of the minds, he undertakes tasks.
And in return, his workers mention key phrases.
"Make sure to not trust anyone."
"Keep to yourself."
"Survival is key."
"Mess up or you die."
"Focus on obligations."
Those phrases ingrain inside Fievel's mind.
Making sure he never forgets them, the twelve year old mouse chants them daily. Creating a mantra.
"Keep, survival, don't mess up, focus."
He repeats it so much it's natural roll on the tongue.
Fievel travels along the roofs. Over the years other mice start forming ways of travel. Secrets bridges or ladders easily accessible.
He's taking a thin plank of wood.
Walking across casually like there isn't a chance of death if messes up and falls. Rule number five, focus on the task.
So he focused on the task.
After across, Fievel sighs in relief. Taking a chance of easy breaths to slow his pounding heart. Should a child be having to worry about these things?
He knows the answer is no.
He shouldn't have to worry. Yet, every day of his life he's worrying if he's gonna die or be eaten.
Fievel's twelve. He can't wait to die.
"Philly?"
A voice he hadn't heard it a long time asked. In an alleyway, Fievel turns to see who dared call names.
He wears a light blue shirt and patched-up brown pants with feet-straps on the bottom, a red scarf and a dark red hat with a yellow strip on it. Like Fievel, he has dark brown fur with tan fur around his eyes and muzzle. He also has black hair in a mop style.
"...Tony?"
To say Fievel is gobsmacked would be the understatement of the year. He's shocked.
He doesn't know what to say next.
YOU ARE READING
Lost And Found. (American Tail Shortfic.)
Fanfiction(No Reunion AU. Completed.) He wants his family back. He wants to find them. He can't even seem to get a glance. He's given up now, it'd been years and he's a survivors of the streets. Turns out family isn't so easily forgiven. *********************...
