Pyro's Story

The sun rose slowly, sending orange sunlight shining down on the shadowy forest as a young tom stalked through it's underbrush, glowing amber eyes fixed on a owlet that had fallen from it's nest. He was only about six moons old, though he stalking seemed to be that of a fully realized warrior. Just then, he close enough to pounce. REOWRR! In a flash of firey fur, the tom pounce, calling some sort of battle cry, and landed on the owlet. Before the owlet could make a sound, he's bitten it's little neck, killing it instantly. As he lifted his head, something caught his eye. Some old twoleg thing.

Carrying his freshkill, the tom, named Pyromaniac, crept up to the twoleg thing. He could see the grass through it. Just as he was examining it, a ray of sunlight it the twoleg thing, shone through, and hit the grass. Thinking nothing of this, Pyromaniac reached out his paw and poked the twoleg thing. It was wedged into the ground, and didn't move. He set his paw back down and leaned down to sniff it, but just as he did, the grass the sunlight was hitting began to smoke. The young tom stared at it with surprise, then, just as suddenly, it burst into flame.

 Pyro chuckled and began to shove old grass into this newly made fire, finding it amusing to watch the dead grass and pine needles to burn. Soon the fire spread to a near by tree. It danced up the trunk, turning the bark black as charcoal. Now the fire was as tall as Pyromaniac, and he almost looked as if he were part of it. His firey pelt blended in with the fire so well, you may not have even seen him. Giggling like mad, the tom watched as the burning tree caught the tree next to it on fire. Both trees burned quickly, their branches falling as they turned to coal.

Soon the fire spread across the forest, raging as all forest fires do. Pyro trotted around, watching everything burn, having the greatest of time. If only he knew what was happening right then. Maybe he could've stopped it.

Finally, the fire started to burn down, having no more trees to burn. Pyro had left to get fresh air, away from all the smoke, and when it died down, he returned home to find his family, and see if they'd made it out of the fire safely.

As it turned out, he found nothing but the burnt remains of his family, all of whom had been burnt alive as they tried to take shelter in their rocky cavern where they lived. Heartbroken, guilty, and angry, Pyro returned to the twoleg thing and ripped it from it's wedged spot in the ground. Never again would it set off a fire here. He then took the twoleg thing and darted away, back to where he could find some grass and freshkill.

 

A moon later, Pyro was sitting in a meadow full of long grass. In front of him was the twoleg thing, which he had now learned was called glass. It now had a hole near one edge, and going through that hole was some braided grass. That same long grass that he was sitting in. He finished using his two front paws and teeth braiding the grass, and tieing it into a knot, then he took it and slipped it around his neck. He looked down at where it hung loosely against his chest, admiring his work.