'I'll sing you a song of the long ago-
Seven shine the shiners, oh!
What did the seven do way back when?
Why, they wove the Charter then!
Five for the warp, from beginning to end.
Two for the woof, to make and to mend.
That's the Seven, but what of the Nine-'
. The junkyard was a temporary refuge.
Mogget didn't even like it all that much.
But he was tired enough to stop here for the day. He didn't dare stay in this town for more than a day, though. This was his birth town, and his large family was bound to be about. He knew only one of his elder siblings was a loner, but had never happened to meet him before. His parents and other siblings were kitty-pets, and wouldn't leave their home for one simple reason, and it was his fault.
Many moons ago it seemed, he and his eldest litter mate, a she-cat named Ranna, left to explore the city, and Ranna was killed by a monster. His family hated him for it. As a reminder, her wore her red collar around his neck.
Mogget's green eyes flashed dangerously as he trod over two-leg trash, bags and furniture, forcing his history to the back of his mind. It was too painful. The mask was up. He wasn't Yrael anymore; only Mogget, the loner.
A hungry loner, that is.
Before an all day nap, he required a meal.
He raised his nose to the piles hungrily, his mouth opening slightly as he took in the many scents. It was difficult to distinguish trash from good- the rotting smell did all it could to cover the decent meals that lay hidden.
Mogget sniffed his way around a hill, stopped abruptly as both cat and food enter his nostrils. His clean white fur fluffed gently in alarm, but his mind gently told him to calm down. His sane side often did that. He liked to think it was Ranna's spirit keeping him sane, but he had no proof to that.
Scenting again, the pure white tom noticed the smell of sausage- the tabby tom must have been eating it.
Another cats scent invaded his nostrils. It was another cat. But he was too busy with this one. Not busy, per say, but preoccupied.
He contemplated turning around or talking. He was feeling particularly "friendly" today, so he chose the latter.
"Mmph, sausage." Mogget mumbled with a yawn, "Not much of a fan myself." .
'What of the Two that chose not to shine?
The Eighth did hide, hide all away,
But the Seven caught him and made him pay.
The Ninth was strong and fought with might,
But lone Orannis was put out of the light,
Broken in two and buried under hill,
Forever to lie there, wishing us ill.'