Kintla Flatlands Kitty Fight Club

She lifted her head from her pile of puke, only to see a pack of wolves coming her way, howls taking over the relative silence of nature. She froze in fear, her back arched and her tail puffed out behind her. But the wolves seemed not to notice her, or were atleast unconcerned by her presence as they marched toward the moose. She watched, bristled still, as they started to tear into the carcass.

She felt disgusted as the display, but her attention was soon stolen as the lynx, whom she thought dead, moved. "Oh gosh!" she exclaimed, moving to its side. "Hold o—HEY!" With its last bit of strength the feral cat swiped a clawed paw at her as she bent to sniff at it, scratching her muzzle. She was shocked, stunned, and stared dumbfoundly. With one last irritated twitch of its tail, and a low gurgling rumble, the lynx passed on. Kit's tongue flicked out to taste her own blood, and her eyes went wide.

She was not used to this. She looked back toward the feeding wolves, and slowly put some distance between her and them, but not so far that she could not watch from the safety and concealment of a bush.