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A single raindrop falls.
It is silent on the now dark and gloomy street, everyone has scurried inside their shops and homes, closing the cold and wet out, by latching the windows shut. Soon, darkness falls, and shadows are thrown off the walls of the little shops.
Soon more and more raindrops are falling, filling the flower pots, and drowning the plants. People huddle around the fire, hoping to scare away the dark. Down the street, in the little bakery, the baker can be seen, frosting his cakes, and baking his pies. Hoping, that the flavors can wash away the sadness of the rain, just like the rain washed away the warmth of the light.
A bedraggled tom cat walks the street, his fur is matted and soaked, and his left ear has a deep, bloody cut, from a recent fight. He flinches at the boom of a near thunder cloud. He has nowhere to go, and no one to depend on. It is just him, and the water pounding down on him.
As lightning strikes, not two mile away, the tom cat winces, before diving under an old horse carriage, abandoned by a farmer. He shivers, and lets out a pitiful meow. He does not know how much time has passed, but the gloom is threatening to overtake him. It has been weeks since he last ate, and the bone chilling cold is getting to him.
He snaps his head towards a small sliver of light, and soon he hears footsteps. “Here, little kitty”, an old woman whispers. Behind her, the old cat can hear the joyful laughter of a pub, and the flames of fire dancing in the fireplace can be seen.
Slowly, he stands up, a hopeful gleam showing in the old warriors eyes. As he follows the woman inside, his nose is greeted by the powerful smell of mice. Many, many mice. The door shuts behind him, and a bowl of cream is placed before him. Gratefully, he laps up the liquid.
He purrs as he settles down beside the fireplace, the old woman stroking is back, and telling him stories. And slowly, his eyes droop, and he falls asleep. And when his eyes flutter open the next morning, he is greeted by light.