Of cats and dogs

From peace to war

I didn't know what was going on. One minute everything was peaceful, the next there was chaos. I could smell smoke in the air and could only assume there was fire.

From inside my small house, I could hear vivid screams of people I knew. I lived along side them and protected them from most dangers. I don't know what was keeping me from defending them now. At this moment, I cursed my heightened senses. I could distinguish the screams from who they came from. I could smell the dust being kicked up. Even more, I could smell the strangers and their weapons. The smell of guns made my eyes almost water. 

But there was one scent that stuck out more than the others. I spat at the dusty dirt floor. Cat... There was a feral here. The next sound that came was....silence. Deafening silence. For the most part anyway. I didn't hear anymore footsteps, so no one left the area. Then the sound of voices could be heard.

I only heard every second word but that was enough for me to understand. They were after the vibranium. I had a gut feeling that this wasn't going to go well. The chief was too proud and was very sentimental and believed that it held magical properties. I cursed his naivety.

I could smell the tension in the air. The fear, the sweat. But there was also excitement. I cursed as I looked at the ground as I huddled myself in to the corner. I knew ferals always got excited around bloodshed. They never cared where it came from; their family, friends, or even themselves.

I was lost in thought, when the sound of the chief screaming in pain easily brought me out of it. That caused a ripple effect. His screaming made everyone scramble, and once again the smell and sound of dust and rocks being kicked up could be heard. But then a new sensation filled the air.

Gunfire.

The smell of iron bullets and gunpowder burned my nose. Then came the vulgar scent of blood. It made my senses go crazy. The animalistic part of me begged to be let out, but I controlled it. 

Almost as soon as it started; the screams, the gunfire, the fleeing footsteps, stopped. The sound of heavy breathing was the only thing that I heard. Then voices again, this time, louder. I caught every single word:

"Victor, go check for survivors."

I could only assume that Victor was the name of the Feral. Their scents of smell were almost as keen as mine. In a last attempt of saving myself, I phased into my wolf form, hoping they'd find no reason to kill me.

As the scent and sound of the feral neared closer, I shimmied under the bed and laid there. I wrapped my tail around my hindquarters and kept my multi colored eyes locked on the door.

I could hear Victor pause at the next house over. That was when I noticed something. He never kicked in a door. He simply smelled for life.

That was when I accepted my fate of being found and solely relied on my wolf-ness. My obselete uselessness.