Among the Desert sands
Just a matter of waiting, I repeated to myself. The harsh sands blowing strong and steady against my striped fur. It was a mantra I had say often, the only way to keep myself centered. Patience before the reward. The bright sun beat down from above, burning into my blue hair and making my pink ears flush red. Just keep a smile on my face and bare it. Its only a matter of waiting after all.
The winds picked up a small storm and so I felt the tiny little pebbles smack against my side. No? They came from behind. From the front? The sun scorched wind did not deign to make up its mind and let me relax against the sensation, it had to bring heat and pain and stinging burns from all sides. My lips curled into a smile I waited, a smile I had to force. Don't let anyone see it get to you, just keep waiting for that reward. My eyes had to squint lest sand build up around the lashes or collide directly into my pupil. If this were simply traveling I would have closed them, but when one is hunting they must look and smell and listen lest they lose track of their prey.
My thin rags, tattered from age and weather offered no protection from the gale-force sands. Withstanding the heat was a task left entirely to my will and my body, but for this upcoming treat I would brave any hardship. My stomach growled, and I did not have to look down at my bone thin chest or the flat, small belly to remind myself how hungry I was. Was it two suns since my last meal? Maybe it was three. I'd like to hope it's just been one, but with how often I go hungry it's a bit insulting to keep track, ya know?
Eyes still open into the painful sand filled wind, I kept waiting. It's only a matter of patience until my treat arrives. The wind made it awkward to listen and the heat welling from every angle meant it was painful to sit still. My bare thighs against the sands, a mere shirt that almost counts as a dress if not for its heavy disrepair being all that keeps me covered. If I were to think about it in the long hours I waited, the heavy sand clouding the air was liable to block out anything one might see of me. From the white fur, to the blue hair, to the black tigerstripes. My fingers pink and my feet hairless and scaled, my long pink tail stiff and immobile behind me.
If this gambit were to fail and I miss my treat for the day, I'll have to go back into the city. The guards will pester me along the way. Even jail me if they manage to catch hold. That was normal. Simply a matter of slipping in over the walls, or finding my way through one of the tunnels. Easiest is to show up at the front gate and ask if they'd let me in or if they'd come out to catch me, then dangle some shiny rocks and convince the guards it was stolen gold. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I have to run past them or slink around them. If they were blind idiots it'd be far too easy to boast over, but I've had gambits fail as often as they've succeeded.
But what was there in the city? I wasn't the only starved rodent desperate to claw out a meal, even the venders didn't have fresh stocks or plenty to spare. They complain less when I steal the old foods, the rotten fish or the moldy potatoes. Things they couldn't have sold anyway and simply ruined the appetite of any customers seeking to fill their bellies. They complained more, and called for the guards, if I tried taking the fresh foods in plain line of sight. Or if they awoke in the morning to find their stores were pilfered during the night. They became outright hostile, even murderous, if one noticed I'd gone so far as to take gold or gems from their stores or lifted out of their pockets. Never a good idea to take gold from those who are there constantly, always seek the traveler or the high class, the rich merchants and not the street peddlers.
I didn't want to go back.
Not really. The city was drab and enclosed, tightly packed with rats and walls and people on every corner. It had water and for that I must always return, but it never had much. It had food, as little as the city could scrape by when the crops were so rare and hunting was so completely dependent on the seasons. It wasn't home. It wasn't comfortable, and it didn't let me see the sky whenever I pleased.
The wind stabbed into my bare legs, reminding me of other pleasantries regarding the thick walls. It kept the sun out, it kept the heat at bay, it withstood the howling winds and piercing sands.
But so did I! Or so I thought, defiantly sitting still and patient while I wait the oncoming treat. I was as strong as any dumb old rock. If the city walls could hold out, then so could I. And so I sat, in pain and heat and misery, just hoping for ...
A skitter?
My ears twitched at the lovely sound, something crawling through the shifting sands in search of a bit of shade, any rocks it might burry itself under when the sand it had burrowed into was so rudely stripped away. I didn't dare turn lest it startle and notice me. The skittering and clicks of sand brushing against a carapace, I could hear it's eight legs struggling to keep hold. It went up between my legs, finding shelter from the sun and protection from the wind. Just like a great city I stood up proud and tall against the forces of nature, dominating them by body and will. And just like a great city the weak and small cower before me for protection, seeking to share in my power.
My legs sprawled out, my paws swooped down, and in the same instant this insect noticed something was wrong I had already latched my jaws around it. Crunch, and it's tail is sliced off. Crunch-crunch and I have a mouth full of four distinct bits, two claws and the tail. My tongue savors the flavor. Scorpion? It seemed to be this time, and as drool lathered over the desperate little bug I maneuvered it between my teeth. Nibblenibblenibble, and then it's legs were gone. The thing's blood tasted over my palette, it's still living form divided into helpless chunks within my jaws.
I swallowed. The scorpion was gone. My belly was full for another day. And I could stand feeling proud at having waited out another treat.
For just like the city, I craved to have things inside me. And just like the great city, if any unwary travelers came too close they were mere fodder to chew and swallow.
Just like the city. A mote of dust in among the desert sands.