Rain.

It dotted Boondock’s body as he ducked swiftly through the streets, traipsing along the tops of fences with quiet paws. He’d been on the other side of town again, expecting another sunny day, but the weather had decided upon other plans, and he had to get going. Summer was morphing into autumn, and it was time to move to the barn with some of the other street cats before winter came and the rain and wind picked up even further.

Grey light bathed the path in front of the large tom, blending his fur against the sky until he looked less like a cat and more like a soggy cloud with legs. Even though yesterday had been acceptably warm, the air today was bitingly cold against his nose and eartips, carrying the fangs of winter winds in the breeze that slanted the rain obnoxiously towards his eyes.

Never seen a fall this cold before, Boondock mused to himself before remembering that he was only 16 moons old and had only ever seen one other autumn when he was small, still being reared by his parents in the barn. He’d decided to strike out on his own when he turned a year old, but promised to come back when the weather got cold again.

… That had been before both his mother and father had been taken by the coyotes, anyways. Now it would just be him returning home to Harbor and the other cats who called the barn home year-round. 

“You’re up early,” a voice hummed in soft observation as Boondock passed under a tree branch. A dark tabby shape with gold eyes that seemed to glow landed on the fence just behind him, and Boondock turned his head.

“Good morning, Xiao,” he greeted the tiny molly politely, tone dry but not unfriendly. She was a local acquaintance of his, a kittypet half the year and a rogue during the other, a wanderer at heart who took to the barn for a few months each fall before returning home in winter. Already the runt of her litter, her tiny body was dwarfed by his long legs and imposing build. “Are you going to the barn, too?”

“It’s the season for it, yeah,” she replied, nudging him forward. Her fur clung to her body in clumps so that she looked like she’d been wrapped in the waves of the winter sea, cascading down her form. “I didn’t think it’d rain today, but when I woke up it was pouring and my Twoleg was complaining about having to go to sea in all this.”

“You really operate by whether or not they’re home, don’t you?”

“He tracks some kind of water creature that migrates here in the fall. He’s gone for days and days, so I might as well take the time to disappear for a while. It’s not like I’ll forget the way home anytime soon.”

Boondock nodded, shrugging his shoulders as he prepared to leap from the fence down to the sidewalk of the next block. Xiao had been alive for longer than he had, so he assumed she knew her own routine better than he ever would. It wasn’t his place to ask or criticize anyways.

“Who do you think will be there this year?” Boondock asked, following Xiao quickly across the street after looking both ways. Despite the fog and her dark coloration, she was an easy cat to follow.

“Hell if I know. I assume all the locals will be there – Thriftshop and Harbor and the like. Probably the cats from down near the fishery, too. And maybe Sunny’s little gang.”

“What about Antfog?”

“He’s got that crazy old Twoleg whose porch he lives under. I’ll be surprised if he comes out at all for anything other than a fight.”

Boondock nodded, remembering the tabby tom in question. Antfog was… certainly an individual. Standoffish and rude, he thought very little about consequences despite genuinely meaning well, and usually got into rivalries with Nile whenever they were in the same area. Something about Antfog being a discarded clan cat and Nile being an abandoned show cat made them butt heads like a pair of tectonic plates. Boondock paid it as little mind as possible, and had only ever seen them fight once when he was growing up. After that, most of it was just them complaining about one another whenever it was brought up. Not his problem.

“I’d bet you a rat he will,” the large tom replied as he slipped down an alleyway that led around the back of the neighborhood that the barn and its land were just behind. It was on a small farm inhabited by a few chickens, goats, sheep, and some pigs that Boondock had been told to avoid at all costs his whole life. Their corner of the farm with its sty and mud holes and troughs was a forbidden area no cat would dare to venture into. Someone got eaten once, supposedly.

“I don’t gamble.”

“Right.”

The rain picked up, the droplets of water growing fatter as they fell from the heavens. Boondock stepped carefully over a puddle, right as someone else raced by him, dancing through the downpour.

“Hey Boondock! Hey cat whose name I keep forgetting!” Fizz called over their shoulder as she turned and bounded back towards the other two travelers. The monarch butterfly wing tucked behind their ear was surprisingly pristine despite the wet weather.

“Fizz,” Boondock nodded politely. Its enthusiasm felt like too much at such an early hour, but they were barely out of being a kitten, so it made sense. “Where’s Klubnika? Shouldn’t she be with you?”

“Over here,” the elderly brown molly in question called, emerging slowly from the alley Fizz had just blazed through. The red-and-white spotted cloth around her neck had been pulled up over her head as though that would keep her appropriately dry. Her voice was warm, showing no signs of exhaustion, tinged with that accent from a faraway land that Boondock had never known the name of. She padded over to her adoptive child and cuffed them gently behind the ear, giving them a soft scolding as she did. “What have I told you about running off, little one?”

“… Not to do it,” Fizz replied after some hesitation, just beginning to put the pieces together. “Because you’re not as fast as you used to be.”

“Exactly. My bones are old and yours are still very, very young.”

“Ha! So you admit you’re a geezer!”

Klubnika playfully snorted, rolling her eyes. “Well, I did not exactly say that…”

“Hey!” a voice called sharply from behind the group as yet another street cat stalked forward. Carnelian, a former kittypet with a red bow around their neck and a practical attitude, was padding forward, their brow furrowed in concern. “What are you all doing out here? Get inside the barn! Are you trying to catch your deaths?”

The brown-and-white feline moved gracefully past them, analyzing them with attentive green eyes. Klubnika sighed, quickly bending down to lick some of Fizz’s wild, unkempt fur back into place before stepping forward. “No, of course not. We were simply pausing for talk.”

Fizz bounded ahead of her, and Boondock followed, his long legs making him somewhat faster than the others. Carnelian had the right idea; it was wet out here, and Boondock didn’t feel like contracting pneumonia if he could avoid it.

Inside the barn was warm, and buzzing with life and conversation as he stepped inside. Boondock scanned the room with his eyes, taking account of any faces he recognized – and any that he might want to avoid. Sunny and her friends were sitting on a bale of hay and chatting, and he quickly slipped past them without a word. It wasn’t that he disliked any of the four, just that he wasn’t exactly keen on lingering around a group with a cat like Viper. The bengal was an obnoxious shade of tangerine that stood out like a beacon, and spoke with all the confidence and arrogance to match. Not a bad cat, just… loud. A little abrasive.

“Hey Boondock,” Lantern greeted as he walked past, sitting a little further from the other three he hung out with. He was a russet cat with a distinctly long tail and tired golden eyes. As always, he looked like his whole body ached, even when he spoke. Boondock only nodded his acknowledgement.

The quietest corner of the barn was the one Boondock always stayed in, not too far from his parents’ old nests – since taken over by his brother Harbor and Harbor’s partner, Vesper. Boondock just hoped they wouldn’t find him and talk to him. Since losing his parents, it had been hard for him to think of Harbor. Their coping mechanisms for their grief – and their highly contrasting personalities – didn’t exactly mesh well. Boondock was distant and quiet, preferring his alone time whenever he could get it, an introvert through and through. Harbor, on the other paw? Well, Harbor had always been a talker, to put it simply.

And since losing their parents, it was like Harbor felt required to fill the otherwise deafening silence.

“Boondock! You made it!”

Fuck.

Familiar paws trotted up to the quiet tom just as he was settling in. Harbor was smiling as always, his pale blue-grey eyes sparkling with his usual enthusiasm. He immediately sat down next to his brother, folding his paws neatly in front of him to appear calm, only for the twitching of his bobbed tail to betray his excitement. “It’s been almost two moons since I’ve seen you! How have you been?”

Boondock sighed. He wanted to be left alone right now, but he couldn’t deny the little spark of relief he felt at seeing his brother alive and well. Neither one could afford to lose anyone else, and they both knew it. “I’ve been good,” he replied, leaning down to lick some of the rainwater out of his fur. “How’s everyone at the barn been doing?”

Harbor grinned like Boondock engaging in conversation with him was the best gift he’d ever received. “Really well, actually! Lemming sprained her paw last moon, but Thriftshop patched it right back up and she’s up and moving now. Vesper’s been hunting for us a lot and collecting rocks, and Weevil’s finally old enough that Thriftshop has agreed to teach him how to heal cats. How are the streets? Meet anyone new?”

“Not really. I keep to myself out there. Lotta cats do. Met some of the cats who used to come to the barn when we were little, though. Dunno if you’ve ever met Xiao before, but she’s nice enough.”

Harbor nodded. “Have you seen Antfog recently? I heard he and Nile had another fight a couple moons ago. I wanna know if he’s coming to the barn or not so I can let Nile know to be on his best behavior.”

Boondock only shook his head. “Nope. Nothing from him. I was wondering the same thing, but Xiao says he’s hiding under somebody’s porch now, so we can’t be sure.”

“Is he… alive, do you think?”

“No idea. Probably. I think we’d know by now if he was dead, considering how much gossip Hughman gets in on.”

The grey-spotted cat laughed, tapping his own head with one paw. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot Hughman! I think he knows everything, honestly.”

“Parents should’ve named him Espionage.”

“Hey now, be nice!” Harbor exclaimed, playfully cuffing Boondock on the ear. “It’s not like they knew he’d be this way.”

“Look, I’m just saying, Espionage would be a pretty cool name for a cat.”

“Well, if Vesper and I ever decide we want kits, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Despite his stoic exterior, Boondock couldn’t help but smile a little. “You sure they won’t take your head off for that?” he joked, though his flat tone made it sound more serious than he was trying to be. Fortunately, Harbor had known him for their whole lives, and caught on fast.

“I’m sure I can talk them into it.”

Boondock snorted softly, flashing his sibling a brief show of grinning teeth. Even after so many moons, Harbor was still undeniably Harbor through and through. “Well, I look forward to seeing how you fare,” he replied with a chuckle, poking his littermate playfully. Harbor, as any sibling would do, poked him back.

Warmth bloomed in Boondock’s heart, but the moment was short-lived. The rain picked up outside, slamming itself against the barn wall, and he was jolted back to the cold reality of his existence. Solitary. Closed-off. Quiet. A distant place where he could wander uninhibited and not worry about something as large-looming and horrifying as loss. To a loner or a rogue, death was a constant watcher. Monsters – or cars, as Boondock understood them – zoomed past sidewalks on numerous thunderpaths, not caring what got in their way. Dogs existed. A hungry coyote might snatch you up if it caught you alone. Starvation and injury were always a possibility. Many cats banded together in colonies to mitigate this, but with so many unorganized cats, turf wars and acts of manslaughter were still bound to happen. He was saving himself and the cats around him from unnecessary grief by keeping his distance and not getting too close to anyone.

He could feel Harbor looking at him, as if immediately catching on to their brother’s shift in demeanor, and gritted his teeth. Right. Okay. Polite excuse. Make a polite excuse.

“Sorry,” he began, furrowing his brow. The remorse in his voice was genuine – he hated to let someone like Harbor down, especially when he’d grown up with them from day one – but the words were only a half-truth. “I… uh… I’m a little tired. I think maybe I need a nap. It’s cold out, and it was a long walk. I’ll talk to you later.”

Harbor looked like they wanted to say something, but closed their mouth before they could get any words out. Boondock closed his eyes with a huff and laid his head on his paws, listening as his sibling got up and padded forlornly away.

Nice fucking going, Boondock. Now they’re sad. Brother of the year.

For a cat like Boondock, distance was a necessity, but it was also the equivalent of repeatedly putting your paws on hot concrete on a sunny day because the other option was hiding under a dumpster all day. Painful. Very painful, but also something that he told himself felt free. The life of a drifter was what he’d been looking for, after all.

… The life of a drifter who spent half his time having imaginary conversations with imaginary cats because he didn’t talk to anyone. The life of a drifter who remembered the names of at least fifty different cats, but considered absolutely none of them friends. The life of a drifter who went to sleep at night cold, wishing he’d taken up the offer an acquaintance had extended for a warmer bed.

After a whole four moons of living his days as a lonely vagabond, Boondock sometimes found himself wondering if he’d made the right choice. It was easy to tell himself that he had when he was all alone on the streets, but now that he was someplace warm and familiar, surrounded by community…

Well, he’d never admit it even to himself, but maybe solitude wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.