The Warrior Cat of Battle Street.

I was digging through my drawer full of notebooks and things the other day when I came across some old stories I had written back in the day. (it probably wasn't that long ago.) I recognized some that I had blogged, but I found some good ones that I didn't. I thought I would share them with you. I'm spreading them both out into two separate blog posts though. I'm lazy. sue me.

This one is called the "Warrior Cat of Battle Street." I guess this requires some back story. There is this street in my neighbored that is literally named Battle. It's the coolest thing ever. Tom's been threatening to steal that sign for years now. In any case, I thought it was cool enough to write a weird story about it.

The soft and steady cadence of rain on pavement seemed to lull the residents of Battle Street into lethargy. Nothing exciting ever happened on the small street running perpendicular to Brink. This was from a human's perspective, of course. To the animals of the neighborhood, the street was as it was named: a battle street. It was nothing impressive by itself; spanning only a few houses in length at most. It was lore and tradition that made this street legendary.

Since the street was first paved, it has been the site of struggles of the most epic proportions. Surely, no one can forget the conquest of the Cat Lords of Lakeland over the Gutter-Rats of Kenney. Since those heralded days, Battle Street has been the proving grounds for only the toughest of warriors. Among those few, the protectors of Battle Street have stood as symbols of the greatest of warriors in the whole neighborhood. Their reputation has spread far and wide, penetrating even the dark depths of Downey.

Leonard the Warrior cat sat on the porch as he recalled the history of his most hallowed stalking grounds. After the Great Canine Exodus, he had moved in to fill the power vacuum. He was not a cat of astounding stature; the raggedy Siamese was rather small for his breed. None of his features dictated he was especially ferocious. The scar running across the bridge of his nose was the only indication of his experience in battle.

Leonard shook himself from his stupor to track a trio of tabbies casually walking down the street. From the get-go, the tribe of striped alley cats had encroached on his territory without care. This did not stand well with Leonard. He had never been one for unwarranted violence. He wanted to be feared and respected, but not hated. With a yawn and a stretch; Leonard was on his feet and cautiously easing into the pouring rain from under the stoop. It was time for an example.

Hearing his approach; the trio stopped and turned towards the slow-coming warrior. Leonard could tell by their looks that these cats occupied the top-most tiers of the tabby tribe. Being half their size, and wanting to display respect, Leonard eased forward slowly. Being amused by his diminutive behavior, the trio recognized him with a low hiss. Leonard kept his cool the whole time. He needed to have his wits about him if he wanted to walk away from this encounter.

The Tabbies became a little more gutsy as the minutes passed, darting forward at Leonard sporadically to taunt him. It didn't work. Leonard stood there and soaked up the humiliation like a sponge. Their darting drew closer and closer, tensing Leonard's muscles with each approach. But Leonard still took his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He didn't have to wait long. The larger of the three tabbies darted in too close, giving Leonard the perfect opportunity. With razor sharp reflexes coming to bear, He brought his paw down on the Tabby's head like a hammer.

The pounding stunned the cocky tabby, giving Leonard the opening he needed. He leaped upon the next closest cat, tearing into its side with his deadly sharp claws. He easily transitioned into a strike to the front legs, causing the cat to lose and fall forward. Taking hold with his fangs, Leonard lifted the tabby and flung his unconscious form across the slick asphalt. No sooner did he do that then he was bull-rushed by the other tabby. Leonard was sent sprawling from the powerful strike. The surprise assault gave the larger cat time to get back on its feet and join the other tabby already engaging Leonard. Trying to regain his footing while fighting at the same time, Leonard swung his paw at the face of the oncoming cat, sending it rearing backward. The precious seconds he gained gave him just enough time to side step the large and ferocious feline charging him headlong.

The two attackers regrouped and began to slowly stalk around Leonard with clearly malicious intent. The fact that it was hard to get his footing on the wet black-top was only icing on the cake. Once more, his tactic of "Separate and Annihilate" would be useless now, since the tabbies had witnessed it first hand; the tabbies were stuck together like glue. Leonard did not express his distress, however. He knew half the battle was psychological. His calm composure would be unusual to the alley cats since they were used to seeing the fear in the eyes of their victims. This strange behavior would unnerve them, which led Leonard to do something even more unexpected.

The best defense is a good offense after all. With all the speed he could muster, Leonard charged the two cats. The speed and the growling made the tabbies hesitate, which was their fatal mistake. He was between the two cats in the blink of an eye, slashing the front inner leg of the larger one; knock it over. The other cat had jumped in surprise, and was back-pedaling away from the sudden assault. Leonard leaped as high as he could, bridging the gap and coming down like a furry lightning bolt on to the cat's back. Fur flew, as Leonard began to hack and slash away at his opponent. The cat tried to shake the small bundle of feline fury off his back but to no avail. Eventually, the cat succumbed to wounds delivered from the furious melee and fell over unconscious. He would live, but the scars and bald patches he carried would be a constant reminder of the consequences of reckless stupidity.

Leonard stood upon the wounded cat triumphantly, sighing deeply just before air was knocked out of his lungs. The massive paw of the large cat sent Leonard flying off the back of his wounded tabby comrade. Leonard lay in a heap several feet away hacking and coughing. "Some cats never give up." he supposed, as he regained his composure and prepared for a fresh assault. He should know; he wouldn't be around if it wasn't so.

Leonard's brilliant blue eyes stared intently as the large tabby lumbered over. He hissed defiantly in the face of his attacker, savoring the fair fight that had been denied him earlier, that had finally arrived. The large tabby didn't hesitate for a second. He rushed forward at Leonard; a tactic that would have worked, and had worked before when Leonard was distracted by another cat. Leonard easily dodged the attack choosing to use it to his advantage and bit his attacker's tail. The large cat screeched in pain and reared back on its hind legs. Leonard didn't skip a beat; he was instantly around the cat. With a great burst of strength, he threw himself at the cat, slamming it back off its hind legs and onto its back.

His attacker could not figure out what was going on. One second he was charging, the next he was on his back. Leonard put a paw on the cat's chest to pin it before it regained its senses. With his paw raised high and claws extended; he was prepared to deliver the Coup de Grace to the Tabby's unprotected throat. Just before the killing blow was struck, Leonard retracted his claws. He didn't think killing the cat was necessary. He was a warrior after all, not a cold-blooded killer. The rain came down heavy as the small Siamese stepped off the battle-field, leaving three dumbfounded cats licking their wounds. The warrior stepped out of the downpour and into the cover of the porch overhang. he laid down to rest once again, at ease knowing Battle Street was safe for another day.