Held Captive- Chapter 2: Felid

The name is Felid; I was born as a feral, and I’ll stay that way. I live near El Chaure in Venezuela. I’m a dark grey cat with some scratches here and there. I’ve been in several fights, most of them over a cat. I don’t know her name, but she’s the most beautiful cat I have ever seen. She’s some sort of mix of Maine Coon and Turkish Van.

She always went outside until recently. She’s a smart cat because she always checks for cars, but she was crossing the street and a car appeared out of nowhere. She would’ve died if it hadn’t been for me. I leapt at her, and we rolled away from the car. Her human had been watching the whole time. Before we could even talk, the human took her away and wouldn’t let her go out.

Afterwards, I watched her scratch the door helplessly. Everyone knew she couldn’t escape. She started meowing at the door like she did everyday. I wished I could help her. I knew that the human always closed the door quickly when leaving, so I thought about how to get her out. That was when I came up with the best idea I’ve ever had.
Just then, I heard the doorknob turn. I hid right near the door as it opened. As soon as the human stepped out, I leapt. She screamed in surprise and fell over. She hit the tile floor with a thud; I hoped she wasn’t dead. The cat noticed all of the noise and quickly ran out of the house.

“Thanks again,” she purred.

“Don’t worry about it. My name’s Felid, by the way,” I mewed in reply.

“My name is Lyra,” her eyes were bright, and she seemed to be smiling at me. I heard a snap behind me and whirled around. There were three large cats standing in front of me.

They were the worst cats in the neighborhood, Scratch, Ranger, and Pierce. Scratch was the biggest, blackest cat in all of Venezuela, and he had never lost a fight. Ranger was the best thief; he could sneak into any human’s house and steal whatever he wanted. All of the other Bengal cats pretty much hate him. Pierce was a big red tabby and had the sharpest claws and teeth in the world. They approached me swiftly.
“Looks like you got her out,” Pierce snickered. I saw his teeth; they were way too scary.

“But you know what-” Ranger started to say.

Then Scratch suddenly bellowed, “She’s ours!” He leapt right at me and scratched. He was too slow. I rolled away and sprang back at him. I cut his shoulder, and he stepped back. He looked like he couldn’t believe he was hurt. I felt something land on my back, and I collapsed. Ranger was on my back, clawing hopelessly at my fur. He did have a human, so his claws were cut regularly. He pinned me down and waited for Pierce to catch up.

Peirce ran at me, claws extended. But where were the claws? I laughed a little; I couldn’t believe his human declawed him. He would’ve turned red if he hadn’t already been that way. He bared his teeth and headed towards my throat. A paw slashed at his face. Lyra was helping me.

“Now little she-cat,” Scratch growled, “we don’t want to hurt you.”
“Little she-cat! I’ll show you little!” She screeched at the top of her lungs.
Scratch had no choice but to fight. For the first time, I noticed Lyra was the exact same size as him, but she was much faster. I then remembered that Ranger was still on my back, just sitting there.

“I’m pretty much useless now,” he grumbled. To tell you the truth, I felt bad for him. Pierce and Scratch had some dignity left, while Ranger had nothing. Both his claws and teeth aren’t very sharp, and he’s too light to suffocate me. He got off of me and walked away.

By then, Pierce had already recovered and was getting ready for another attack. This is going to be easy, I thought. All I had to do was dodge his teeth and scratch. My method was a huge success. His flank was covered with blood; he hissed and ran to his house.

I turned around to see Scratch pinned down and bleeding. Lyra didn’t even have a single wound. She stepped back and let Scratch free. He didn’t have a home, so he just ran off, and that was that.

“Wow, you’re not even hurt,” I mewed in amazement.

“Pierce taught me a lot,” she mumbled.

“P-Pierce,” I flicked my ears back.

“Yeah, Pierce is my father.” It did make a lot of sense. He was a Maine Coon, and they had the same color eyes. She obviously inherited her Turkish Van coloring from her mother.