What Could Have Been One

Chapter Two

The silver she-cat felt something wet clogging her pelt, tugging her down into the dephs of something.

Where was she?

Better yet, who was she?

Sudden panic struck through her cloudy senses.

I can't drown! Not after all this way!

Wondering what that part about 'all this way' meant, she started to move her thin, tired limbs, swishing her way up.

She began to make progress, moving upwards.

A pressing urge was bugging her.

Did she need to breath?

She started to see a dim light above, and making a sudden, quick, way, she broke through the water and heaved herself onto a slab of cold, unwelcolming stone.

As she panted wildly, her sense slowly started to creep back.

My name? What's my name? she wondered.

Bristlefrost, she realized. She had a dim memory of someone calling her that; she saw a yellow pelt and heard a warm voice.

After resting there for quite some time, she felt sleep pulling on her mind.

No, don't fall alseep, the tiny voice of reason left in her thought. You won't wake up.

Deciding that she did, in fact, want to wake up again, the gray she-cat shakily stood up and trudged toward the opening that was letting in soft light.

When she made it out, a glaringly white full moon shone brightly at her, as if going, Welcolme back, Bristlefrost.

There was some significance connected with a full moon, but she didn't have the energy to search her memorys.

Looking down, she distantly made out a lake. Water seemed like a good idea.

She could drink the water behind her, she supposed, but it scared her. 

Feeling like a kit, she started on the impossible trail to the lake, which had a sense of belonging attatched to it.

Home, she thought. Bristlefrost wondered where her home was.

She wondered if it was at the lake.

If it was, she was going to find home tonight.