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Evening is Eveningshine as a rogue in another version of her story.


Book One Edit

Eveningshine is too bored to do a summary, so she will just paste it here: She also hopes that you will enjoy and read it. :)

Hi, this is Eveningshine, but THIS is a random story thing.


The skies deep violet, clouds strolled peacefully across it, the sun not in sight. Lilies were dappled on a small pond. Frogs and other amphibians inhabited it, croaking, like always. Leaves rustled and birds tweeted serenely.
All was calm.
I raced through the clearing in such a panicked rush, the lilies were scattered, the frogs were disrupted and scared away, the birds flew like mad from the sudden noise, the leaves whooshed as I rushed past, and even the sky began to turn a dark, orangey-blue. It seemed violent, not like the usual, nice evenings that I earned my name.
My heart was thumping like a thousand monsters, and behind tailed my brother, Billow. He was from a smaller litter of only one. His solid brown pelt was puffed up, fear running with his tail, which was embedded between his legs. I spared him a slight glance only.
“Hurry up! They might see us-“I began, eyes stinging from the wind. Just then, the horribly familiar roar of the twoleg’s monster indicated that they were here, and too near. Too near for us to run from.
Billow squeaked and tried to run faster, but he was not the best runner. I was.
“Evening, I can’t hold up!” he shut his eyes and suddenly stopped his chase. I watched, helpless, as they scooped him up and dropped him in a cage. I turned, and kept running. The last I saw from him was his yellow eyes, a line of fear as he peered through them. I thought that he moved his jaw, but running for dear life, I couldn’t be sure.
I sprinted and sprinted, away from the delayed monster’s growl. I wasn’t going to give up so easily…
I didn’t know how long I ran, it seemed a whole moon, though I only saw one, normal sunrise. It burned my eyes.
Then I realized that I lost. And how? Let me begin…
It started as an average morning, well; actually, it kind of was, though the snow was dark- from soot. I remember nudging Billow’s lazy shape awake, he liked to oversleep.
I stretched and poked his belly.
“Hey, Billow, wake up…!” I mewed. He only gave a little stir, to roll over again and snore. I had to roll my eyes at that, it was so him.
So, I decided to do what I always did when he reacted like that, which was very often.
“Billow!!! The twoleg is coming… with a knife!” I cried, trying to hold the smile from my voice. Then I mimicked the bumbling patter of the twolegs’ feet. Very realistic.
“Ahh! Let’s get out of here! What are we waiting for?” he shot right up, tail bristling. I managed to satisfy myself with a small giggle. He was so gullible to fall for that every day. Well, I knew that I shouldn’t have played wolf, but it was necessary. He’d sleep through a forest fire if he had to! And he did once. I had to drag him out. In fact, I saved his fat and furry hinny from many other things….
Billow ran in random directions, only to meet the woods and turn. I watched, amused, as he finally got too dizzy and fell in a twirl.
“Must… run… away…” then he went back to his deep slumber. I was pretty irked. I should have known that he was going to pull something like that on an emergency!
“*snore*” Billow drooled on a patch of ferns. Was that my imagination, or did they just wilt slightly? Poor ferns.
I screwed my mouth up and padded away. Fine, I’ll catch my own prey; besides, he only missed most of his, scared away the rest, and went on a blundering fit for the rest of the day.
So best if I did it myself.
I walked for some time, and watched the august scenery from below. The small little starlings that were newly hatched, of course I was going to spare them, they had a life ahead, the blooming tulips from the twoleg’s home, we lived pretty close to a whole DEN of them, but most of all, the still surface of that lake I was heading for.
I reached the waters and breathed in, inhaling the scents. Lovely. Fish didn’t live here, they weren’t that stupid, and the twolegs usually swam and played here in new leaf. Luckily, there were none right now; I wasn’t in the mood for encountering them.
But some ducks and Canadian geese, I got that name from the local smart-mouth cat, Moss, came here a lot, and they were pretty tasty. How I loved to eat birds!
Squirrels were ok, but they gave me headaches, voles were easy, but they weren’t very common here. Rabbits couldn’t outmatch ME, but they were tough anyway. Billow loved to eat fat birds, too, but he’s way pickier than I am. Sometimes we, well, mostly I, caught some of those seldom wild peasants, and they were simply delicious.
I looked up expectantly, looking for some sign of birds, but none. What I did find was-
“Erm,” I mewed, as a snowflake landed in my bright, dark amber eye. Then, unusually, it started to sting. Snow doesn’t sting! (yeah, I was smart enough to realize that. J)
I yawned, and automatically, I started to tear. That got that foreign thing out. Shaking my head and opening my eyes, I looked to my white paws.
Odd, the snow was gray, smoky gray. Shocked and curious, I foolishly licked some up; what harm can a little snow do?
Immediately, I knew that answer, though it was not the SNOW that caused me to gag, but it was the concentrated SOOT in the snow. Again, odd.
And it was new leaf. Not leaf bare!
Thrice, odd.
I thought smartly that it was better to go to my brother and wake him up, as this was suspicious.
Scampering up and giving a last glance to the sky (I squinted), I gave my grayish pelt a small shake and rushed to our den. Squirrels roused from their sleep, only to race back in, scared of me.
As I walked, something stirred around me, surprising me. But it was just a squirrel.
Some branches suddenly rustled, I didn’t notice I was near to Brine. Well, might as well teach him something. ( I saw a pair of eyes glinting out of the shrub with those branches)
“Now watch and learn how it’s done!” I called. Then I jumped onto the squirrel with paws extended, ready to kill…
A twig slapped my face as it swung from a tree in the wind. Unfortunately, the squirrel got away, and I looked like a fool. So I tried to act as if nothing happened.
“Brine! I didn’t see your den that snow!” I called enthusiastically to my best friend, Brine. He stretched, his blue ears tilted back, then opened his pale blue eyes.
“Hey, Evening! NICE CATCH.” The white spot on his chest shone in the dim light as he purred my name. Then he looked up, confused.
“What’s with all that snow?” he asked.
“Why are you asking me? I don’t control the weather.” I had to look away at that phrase, because I actually met something that can cause weather changes, and I had learned to use it. Twolegs come in handy sometimes, but that’s another story. I was just thankful that he forgot my mess-up.
He gave a mrrw of agreement and yawned.
“It’s pretty early, isn’t it?”
I nodded, then replied ruefully, “You forgot one factor; Billow.”
“Oh! How could I have left that out! He snores loudly in the morning, yeah.”
Again, I nodded, faking a grim tone. “I’m going to have to live on his scraps if he doesn’t grow up.”
“Your brother’s quite a handful!” Brine mewed. He then licked his paw and drew it over his ear.
“You would know,” I meowed sarcastically.
Brine snorted. Then, without warning, he leapt playfully at me, dislodging my position.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, laughing in spite of myself. I rolled over and he landed his paws squarely on my shoulders, and twisted him right over.
“Woah! Easy!” I got back up and waited for him to do the same. Brine’s eyes twinkled, a big contrast to his dark, blue, and now covered with gray snow, pelt.
“You’ve gotten better than me!” he accused playfully, shaking some snow out of his ear.
“Having Billow as a brother does that,” I mewed back, then added, “Having Billow as anything does other things, too, I guess.”
“YOU would know,” he replied, smiling.
‘I would. Like having Billow as an eating buddy; he eats out most of the supply, having Billow as company, I get driven mad… having Billow as a den mate; he wakes me up in the crisp dawn…” I smiled back, and then looked at the brightening sky.
“I have to go now, now that I think of him, too. Bye, and see you later,” I called, already taking off.
I saw him nod and heard him yell, fading in the distance, “Yeah! Bye!” then a distant crunch of leaves and a yowl of pleasure. I looked around once more to see him, victorious, a vole in his jaws.
“And THAT’S how it’s done!!!” So what if he didn’t forget. I held some pretty embarrassing things about him, too.
So I had to laugh at that.
By the time I made it back to our den, nothing important to this story happened. The soot-filled snow still fell from the clouds above, though…
Billow was still asleep when I got back. It was pretty expected, knowing him better than I wanted to.
“Billow…” I whispered creepily, going to plan B. “ *shivering noises* Billllllowwwwwww……”
That did the trick, as he was afraid of ghosts.
“Help me!!! I knew that this place was haunted!!!” he got up, alright. I sighed. I had fooled him too much already. Time to talk some sense into this messed-up tom. But to set the record straight, Billow’s not that bad! He’s way stronger and buffer than I am, able to push a large rock right over. He’s kind of funny when he’s natural, not acting like… someone on this twoleg “television”, Moss said.
I’m just a fast thing, a brilliant thinker, too, but sometimes, OK, I admit it, most of the time, I can be JUST a little too overboard on the talking. JUST a little… what? You don’t believe me? What makes you think that? *ignores all the pages of paragraphs about my thoughts that I wrote* but still, I don’t actually talk, I’m just too reserved, so if you see me not talking and writing my thoughts, then you’d think that I have an opposite twin or something. But when you get me started on talking with my friends, then there’s no going back.
Anyway, back to the story.
“Wha?” Billow mewed, perplex at his surroundings. “I’m not in heaven?”
I rolled my eyes again, twice already for the day. “No, Billow, you’re not.”
Billow looked around stealthily, though I saw him look, as if to just be sure that he was alive (I rolled my tired eyes once more).
He let out a secretive breath. My only brother could just be so amusing sometimes. I got up and sat near my favorite oak shrub that I called “home”. Then I suddenly leapt away.
“Why is it covered with some Billow-smelling, brown and cream fur?” I accused openly, smiling, but not quite.
‘Er… I don’t know…?” he replied, guilty.
I raised my eyes.
“Sorry, Evening, I guess that I rolled in your den when I was asleep,” he mewed lowly, hanging his head.
I let out a breath.
“It’s really comfy!” he backed up.
“Well, maybe if you’d actually CLEAN out your den once in a while and took the time to add some down from our birds, then you’d think that your den would be a nice place to be.”
“Heh…” Billow’s stomach rumbled hungrily. “Anything to eat?”
I decided to not take my anger on him.
“Well, I just went out, but didn’t find anything… though guess what?”
“The twolegs left out cream?” he asked enthusiastically, already on his paws. I gritted my teeth , faking to be bothered. Really, I wasn’t, but you can’t help to do that. He’d just give things up for food too easily.
“No…’ I said more or less scathingly. “but I did find black snow.” Billow had already started to sit back down, but he froze at that.
“BLACK snow? Wow! I have to tell Aqua!” He sprang to his paws again. I smiled inwardly. Aqua, his best friend, the only other one that really was close to him, was a pretty and slim silver she-cat… probably the least cat that you’d think to be his friend, let alone to have some kind of relationship with him, good or bad.
The only reason we cats from this area were so excited about colored snow (other than yellow or brown) was because, weirdly, whenever it happens, something good always appears that day, like last year, we had pink snow from some twoleg thing, and Billow and I had this super big pheasant. Brine swore that he bet this super huge German shepherd, or that’s what Moss called those big, black and dark ginger-brown dogs. Moss swore that he talked with a goose named Cluck.

Back to the story.
“ I am going to bet that she already knows, it started snowing when I got to the lake, and I reckon that it has snowed a whisker’s length.”
“Oh.” He didn’t look disappointed. “I’ll tell her about that mad swift that we faught yesterday, then! Plus, even if you’d done most of the work ( I had opened my mouth infuriatingly), and I was screaming and cowering behind you ( I then shut it, satisfied) , I haven’t seen her in a long time.” He got up.
“Don’t you want to eat anything?” I asked.
“No thanks,” Billow replied, turning away. Then he stopped and twisted his head around to face me. “I think that YOU haven’t seen Moss in a long time. Why not visit him?” I turned my head to the bushes of heather, interested on what was making it rustle when there wasn’t a slightest of a breeze anywhere.
“That sounds good to me,” I agreed. ‘Wow, you haven’t been this logical in a long time!” I then recalled.
But he was already gone by the time I turned around.
As fast as a mouse encountering a monster, or just Billow encountering a chicken, I swiped my long, long, long, long…. claws to the bushes.
A dead squirrel fell out.
“And that’s how it’s done,” I muttered to myself as I picked it up. Then I headed to Moss’s den.
“Hey, Evening!” Moss greeted me as I appeared in his sight. Moss lived in the outskirts of the lake, and it took a while to get there. The squirrel smelt so yummy, and it was getting cold in the gathering snow.
He must have noticed me taking notice to the squirrel, because he said, “Oh, I just ate. No need to give me that piece of delicacy!”
I purred back to him gratefully and set it at his paws. Moss was a great person to be around; he knew exactly what’s on your mind. It’s so useful!
Moss was like a teacher to me, and he was very old. But with all his crazy ideas, his mind’s fresher than his body. Well, WAY more fresh. He can stop some diseases that wipe others out, make some stuff that he calls “technology”.
“So, it’s snowing soot, hmmm?” he mewed as I tore a piece of flesh from my squirrel. I nodded, eyes wondering around his den. There were all sorts of things that I didn’t notice from my last visit. Spider webs all around, clinging onto the brambles, feathers cuddled up to his nest, hide of vole, I guessed, and this funny smelling pile of yellowish pulp. Probably yarrow, to get revenge from that pesky, young raccoon that was living around here, scouring the lands and ruining his den.
“I wonder what will happen this time,” he continued, looking outside his den, to the moors. Moss didn’t like undergrowth, he said that it blocked the moon. He’s a weird one, brilliantly weird. Something in the darkness moved, catching my attention. It was a baby bird of some sort.
I swallowed, maybe a little too quickly, to answer.
“Billow-cough- has gone to Aqua’s to play-splutter-“ I managed to spit out. Some meat fell on his dusty grass, and I threw an apologetic glance at him.
‘Yes… those two are such a pair, you say?” Moss meowed.
I nodded again, and was more careful with my eating this time.
“Aqua’s a great she-cat, really funny.”
“And to you, the orb tells of fairness through the two,” Moss muttered mysteriously. I decided, wisely, to consider it. Being friends with Moss has rubbed off on me.
“You’re thinking-“ Moss began,
“- about the positive relationships of the “orb’s” and yours with the relative two, which I guess are love and war,” I finished. I pieced and said the words in that special manner, and as I said before, he rubbed off on me.
Moss beamed at me. “That’s my student. And can you guess what the so called orb is?”
I was ready. “Last time, you said that the orb shines through the toughest places to light, yet it goes. And when I first met you, you also mentioned something about “answers in the skies”. So… the moon is my guess.”
‘Well done!” many could say that he was surprised, but I knew him better than THAT, and Moss was a hard one to get. Trust me.
Moss was smiling down at me like a mother looking at her first born catch her/his first prey. But he was a tom, and he didn’t have a mate. Plus, I knew who my parents are, geesh.
“You have learned more than I have thought. You have… surpassed me so.”
I shook my head wildly, nearly choking again.
“No way, Moss, like I can even be COMPARED to you!” I exclaimed. Then I watched him warily. “What do you mean, “Love and War”, in the first place?”
“Ahh, my young one, you’ll have to figure that yourself,” he said Moss infuriatingly. But I didn’t glare at him, I only thought.
“ I can predict…”
“Ah! I see that the sun is shining! You don’t want to miss meeting Aqua,” he reminded me.
“Right! I almost forgot! Thanks for telling me, Moss!”
I scramble up and hurriedly scraped earth, Moss called it, over my remains of prey, watching the sun fly past the clouds.
“Bye, Moss!” I called as I ran through the woods.
“Goodbye, young Evening!” I heard him, and then a tree obscured my vision.
I re-turned my head to the front, weaving through the undergrowth. I was good at weaving through stuff without touching it; it’s a specialty of mine. I learned it from Moss’s philosophy of gravity, air force, and WATER, which somehow got itself in the equation.
I entered the territory of Aqua’s, a small, moist terrain that she fancied. Lush, long vines covered most of the area that it had, and grasses and daisies bloomed naturally. The snow didn’t get this far; in fact, it seemed to stop snowing at all!
I looked around. Beautiful, but buggy. Mosquitoes annoyed you here and there, and other bugs flew and buzzed around. I shivered. Bugs creep me out, but it was nothing compared to Billow’s fear.
Wow, that tom can scream.
So he always took the “other route”, all the way AROUND the moist land, and across the swampy marshes. Frogs were there, but it wasn’t as bad as his fear of bugs.
So, basically, you see how they’re close friends. No? Well, you’ll see soon enough.
I finally made it to the more dry part of this jungle, where Aqua’s den was. Vines wove through, making a kind of roof.
The perfect place to be, I called it.
Billow called it a sanctuary.
Aqua called it privacy from all her littermates.
I guess that all of them work.
“Aqua?” I called, sitting on a stump. I waited patiently, as her den was VERY roomy. I heard a scuffle and a yelp, probably she getting off her nest and onto some kind of prey’s bones. I shook my head. Didn’t I tell her to clear her den, or it was going to end in a disaster? Then I looked around some more. Where was Billow? I couldn’t scent him, but I’m not the best tracker you’ll ever meet.
“Evening… hang on a moment…” came Aqua’s voice. I waited some more, counting the number of leaves on a branch. If cats could count, I learnt it from Moss.

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