Heist

Bandit had always lived true to his name. From petty theft, to a few heists with temporary comrades, his whole life had been one of crime. At first, it had been necessary - he'd been born a lonely stray in the city, and his mother had left as soon as he could walk on his own four paws. Fortunately, those paws had proved to be sticky. He'd developed a real talent for nabbing things, over the moons.

It was just one heist, one of his riskiest, that had finally done him in.

Not that he'd been caught, exactly. He'd just been minding his own business, scraping by each day up in the cold North (he was, ah, riding out the aftermath of another little mishap. Seemed clear up here.) But it wasn't as empty as he'd assumed it to be. There were Twolegs with homes full of useful junk, and even a group of cats, with relatively unguarded goodies. It was a steal - literally! It felt a little ridiculous that he could just walk into their camp and scrape together the pile of prey sitting out in the open. They'd had a guard, sure, but she was all but asleep out by the entrance, and he'd barely had to conceal his pawsteps to sneak past. The biggest risk was anybody waking up - he'd be pretty outnumbered, and there didn't seem to be an easy escape route if they cut off the entrance.

But Bandit knew what he was doing, and he'd gotten in and out with every scrap of prey he could hold. Which was most of it. He'd snagged a bunch of sticky leaves and plants, too - if they were stashing it, it must've been somewhat useful. At the very least, he could just barter it off for something better. Everything had seemed to go off without a hitch.

At least, until the next day. He hadn't gone that far from the camp, what with all the loot he was hauling along. Of course, he'd buried it generously deep in the snow so it couldn't be scented - but he had to stay near it for now, lest he forgot where it was by nightfall. So when the cats had woken to all of their possessions gone, he'd gotten a pretty clear view of it.

Bandit had been in the thieving business a long, long time. These days, it was just a hobby, a fun way to put his skills to use. Despite this, he very rarely stuck around the site of his crimes, for pretty obvious reasons. The few times he had, for whatever reasons, things had turned pretty ugly - hence why he was hiding out in the middle of nowhere now.

This was only about the second time the sight had made him feel so guilty.

As a kitten, he'd felt guilty all the time. But he'd needed this to survive, back then, so he'd had to numb himself. Take what he needed, don't think about it. When he'd gotten a bit older, maybe around the age of the little cat angrily lashing her tail down there, he'd felt it again. He hadn't known the cat he'd taken from was a stray, much like him. He didn't know about her kits, either. They'd been so tiny. It was probably the worst he'd felt since his mother had left.

And this time... he could feel it again. Watching the older cats fret and lash out, the smaller ones hiss and skulk about in the snow. He didn't... need all this food. These plants wouldn't do him any good.

...What was he doing?

That mother cat. He'd never confessed about the scraps he'd taken. The guilt had followed him ever since. It followed him all the way to the group of cats, and it took everything in him not to turn back around when they looked at him, varying degrees of agitation and strained friendless crossing their faces. It had taken even more to confess what he'd done - how he'd snuck in, taken everything. They were angry, of course. But he promised to show them where it was hidden, and a few of them flattened their fur.

Their leader pulled him aside while the rest of the "Clan" brought their possessions back home. Asked him why he'd stolen from him. He honestly wasn't sure. But then she'd offered him a place with them - to live, and hunt, and sleep with her Clan. Maybe... improve their defenses, even.

Bandit, for once, was at a loss. He'd been living solo for so long. He probably wouldn't fit in. Half the cats wouldn't want him around, anyway - how could they trust him? How could he expect them to, knowing full well his instincts?

And why, everything considered, did he say yes?