Wolverine

an excerpt

I’ll start with me raking Exter’s loutish grinning cat-face with my nails. My brother would have been proud of that. “Don’t think like a tabby,” he would scold me. “Think of the most vicious animal you can. Lioness, tigress, whatever. Become it.” I became a wolverine. Is a female wolverine a wolveriness? Who cares. My brother taught me a lot about fighting.

Exter yelped, to my gratification, and before he recovered I bit into his shoulder, quickly, piercing with my sharp teeth. I swatted him again with my other paw and this time caught a piece of his ear. He stepped back, frightened, bloodied, and I glared at him, just daring him to come at me again. He didn’t. I picked up my stolen fish in my mouth and disappeared within the chaotic labyrinth of collapsed buildings and concrete and twisted metal that we called the Beauty.

Somewhere further on I emerged onto what once was a street, although now it was pockmarked with holes and strewn with building detritus. Carcasses of destroyed structures leaned inward like lurching giants. They cast no shadows; with day distinguished from night only by a brightening of the gloom there wasn’t enough light for such things.

Five cats slunk out from behind a huge angular block and confronted me. They were emaciated, sickly. Fur was matted, missing in places. One was covered in sores. I felt no revulsion; one gets accustomed to this. And I felt no sympathy; that feeling had vanished a long time ago.