His Kitten

03

|C A I N|

Cain glared as Emerson left him alone in the cold, empty house- again. Cain sighed before deciding to explore, even though he pretty much knew every inch of the mansion.

     Cain lazily prowled down the stairs into the basement. He just too his time, stretching out across the stairs. Cain usually avoided it because it was the room in the house that smelled the least like Emerson. Other than Anna's room, of course. Cain never went into Anna's room... he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Anna didn't like Cain much either.

Cain strolled around the place. It was barren; it used to be a playroom sort of place for Emerson when he was a kid, but all that stuff was moved out when he hit puberty. Ever since, it was just left alone to attract cobwebs. That was another reason Cain didn't go down into the place.

     Noticing a box in the corner, Cain prickled with curiosity. What was in it? Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, but Cain didn't remember ever seeing the box before. He wasn't sure, though.

      Cain walked over to the box, nudging it. It tilted a tiny bit. Cain hit it hard, and the flimsy box swayed. Driving his hip into it, the cardboard container tipped, spilling its contents all over the floor. Cats were always getting into sh*t.

     A bound leather book, an old quill, a pocket watch, and a compass were scattered across the ground. Cain approached the compass first, sniffing it. A familiar smell engulfed his nostrils, a scent he hadn't smelled for years. It was like a musky pine. Charles.

     Cain's heart clenched. Charles may not have been as loving as Emerson, or as kind as Anna, but he was caring and passionate. Cain had grown on him, and they had a mutual liking for each other.

Cain remembered how Charles would always scratch between his ears if he crawled into his lap while Charles was reading. Cain was basically brought up like a dog in the household, especially by Charles. But Cain didn't mind.

    Cain licked it softly, as if to respect the memory of Charles. He twisted around to the next object. The compass. Cain eyed it with interest. The compass wasn't pointing to the north, but going heading steadily to the southwest. Cain thought that was strange, but shrugged it off.

    Making his way over to the diary and quill, Cain's tail wagged. This discovery was unexpected and Cain enjoyed finding new things. He suspected these things weren't really new, though- just old things resurfacing.

    The quill was just an average pen. Cain pawed it, holding it between his claws. The wispy feather tickled his nose, causing him to sneeze. He snatched at the feather, but it floated out of his hands. Cain chased the quill around before sighing in defeat when it escaped him yet again. He wanted to hiss and claw at it more, but he grew bored.

He then approached the diary. Cain prodded it with his paw. It was made of soft leather, bound by a belt wrapped around it. Cain gnawed on the binding, trying to loosen it up. He failed, and miserably at that. Taking the book in his mouth, he crawled up the stairs to Emerson's room, dropping the diary on his bed.

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     Cain danced around Emerson's feet, ecstatic that he was home. He didn't even realize that another boy followed him. Cain meowed in happiness and when Emerson crouched down, he jumped into his arms.

     "Geez, Emerson. For a mutt, you sure do like cats, huh?" The stranger laughed.

    Emerson's face hardened into a glare as he turned to the boy that had walked in with him. Cain's eyes darted between the two.

    "Shut up, Conner. I've had him since I was little, it's different. And you will like him too, just look at him!" Emerson lifted Cain out of his arms and into Conner's.

     "Ooh, hairy baby. Man, do you use conditioner on this thing? It's fur is so soft. But why is it so big?" Conner clutched Cain to his chest. Cain was a bit uncomfortable; he was used to only being in Emerson's arms.

     "Well, we don't think he's a normal house cat. For one, he's like 16 years old. For two, he's huge, as you said. And three, he eats like a growing child..." Emerson smiled shaking his head. "We suspect that he's like part bobcat or some wild cat, y'know?"

      "Yeah, I can see that," Conner nodded. Conner followed Emerson into the living room where Emmy usually played video games.

     Emerson pulled out two game controllers and handed one to Conner. They both plopped down on the couch, Cain in between them.

    The two boys swore like sailers and got extremely emotional over the game they were playing, jumping around and hooting when they won. Cain watched them in amusement, his ears perking up at the noise. He never truly understood why werewolves got so wild about such trivial things. Then again, Cain did like to chase red dots.

    After their small celebration, they settled back on the couch. Conner pulled Cain onto his lap. Cain snuggled up to him, liking the extra body heat.

      "What's his name?" Connor asked, fondling Cain's ears.

     "Cain. But sometimes I just call him kitty or kitten," Emerson smiled fondly at the gray cat.

    Conner hummed as he moved his hands down the cat's back, stopping above his tail. He scratched there, making Cain's rump rise in the air. His tail swished back and forth. He liked being touched there.

     Cain started purring and mewling, confused by the unknown warmth spreading down south. He buried his face into Connor's lap. Conner laughed at the kitten's reaction.

     "What the f*ck, man? You are gonna make him go through heat, and I don't want to have to go get some girl cat," Emerson snatched Cain away from his friend.

     "Pretty sure your cat is gay. Sorry to break it to ya," Conner shook his head before standing up.

    "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe he's asexual?" Emerson shrugged. "Why are we deciding the sexuality of my cat? That's f*cking stupid."

     "Whatever. I'm going to go home. My old man wants me back for supper. See ya later, man," Conner waved before gathering his things. He and Emerson talked a bit on his way out, mostly just goodbyes. Cain wasn't paying attention.

    Emerson sighed, taking Cain to his bedroom. He collapsed onto his bed and relaxed, Cain curling up next to him. If dog is man's best friend, then cat must be dog's best friend...

EDIT: this chapter freaking sucks...