Lost. He was a lost boy. Alone, fur ragged, tangled in every what direction, soaked to the bone with rain. Owlet made a miserable sight, and he knew it. Every muscle in his scrawny body burned with every step the youngster took, limb tail dragging ungracefully against the ground. Owlet knew that were his grandma here, she would scold him, tell him to lift his head and act like a gentleman. But his grandma wasn't here - she had been gone for quite some time; they had gotten separated - and Owlet was so tired. Stumbling down the street, matted fur dripping rainwater, Owlet darted into a nearby alley for shelter. It was very likely the biggest mistake he'd ever made (except when his grandma had crossed the rumbling road in a rush and had told Owlet to follow, but he'd only made it halfway before chickening out and making a run for it in the other direction). For a few moments, Owlet didn't know what he'd stumbled over, and the six-moon kitten just stared down at the lump of fur at his paws, bewildered. Until he nudged it, and the head flopped back, unsettlingly limp, unseeing eyes glaring up at him. Owlet lurched back with an ungainly screech of alarm and fear, paws scrabbling over the cobblestone street, a wail caught in his throat. "Grandma!" He rasped, begging for her to appear from somewhere and safe him. Or that other nice cat he'd grown up beside until Grandma had woken him in the midst of the night and told him it'd been time to go. Heron, her name had been. Tears of anguish at being all alone in this world pouring down his cheeks, the brown-furred tom rushed out of the darkened alley with a strangled sob, amber eyes large, pupils blown wide with fear as he just ran. And kept running, never looking back. Only when he ran into something did Owlet fall back in a soggy heap, looking up into the darkness to see two olive-green eyes peering back at him. A tender smile spread over the stranger's face, and Owlet's heart throbbed with a long-forgotten ache. How he wished to be seen, to be held, to be loved, to be known. To be found, a lost boy no longer. “Heya, kiddo. Need a paw?” The brown-furred tabby extended a paw, green eyes twinkling with kindness, and Owlet took it. - The Lost Boy Owlet
