Rip placed a paw in front of himself and patted the soil. The creator had placed the feel-good bushes right next to a tree that tasted of mana and had something buried in its roots that tasted of the sea.

Was it a fish? Was it an oyster? The creator’s mate had given them one each, both to him and Hiss. It had been tasty. But to check, Rip needed to uproot the feel-good bushes. Oh, cruel fate!

Something passed in the shadows and Hiss hissed. Then Rip saw it, and he forgot all about the possible seafood in the roots of the creator’s tree. It was a rat. A big, fat, specimen that was sure to feed both him and his mate for the day.

The creator’s mate didn’t let them in the bountiful water anymore, hoarding all the fish for himself and the creator. Lowering himself to the ground, Rip moved towards where he had last seen the rat pass. Hiss followed.

They exited the many-plants cave and followed the scent of the rodent. Hiss was distracted by the surrounding sights. They had never been outside before. Rip hissed at her to pay attention. A firefly landed on his nose, startling him. He jumped and the rat ran.

Hissing and purring, Rip began to jump around and catch fireflies to rip them to shreds. Thinking it was a game, Hiss joined him. With a single firefly, Rip went back in the many-plants cave and headed to the bountiful water. He had a mind to make the creator so guilty about him having to eat bugs that the bountiful water became available to him again.

Hiss had a flower in her mouth. She was a weird one, his mate. Rip didn’t claim to be able to understand women, but Hiss should have gone for a guilt trip, just like him.

The creator and her mate were hissing at each other. Rip had long since given up trying to understand them. For all that the not-human-that-looked-like-a-human had created him, she didn’t possess the same intelligence as a murder muffin. Rip had tricked her many times before. Although to her credit, she didn’t fall for purring anymore.

Hiss bounced to the creator and placed the flower at her feet. The creator’s face split into a grin, and the creator’s mate threw one of the bigger fish to Hiss. He didn’t even rob her of the kill. Then, instead of reaping into the fish right on the spot, Hiss dragged the squirming animal to a dark corner and ended it with a single bite.

Wondering why his mate had such a great success, Rip went to present his creator with his kill.

“Oh, no! Bad Rip! You have to chase rats. Oh, the poor firefly,” hissed the creator, and the creator’s mate laughed. Rip waited for his big fish. It didn’t come. Rip began to purr in anger, and the creator yelped and backed away. Hiss laughed at him from her corner.

In the short time during which he had observed her and then presented his kill, she had eaten the fish. What of sharing with him? What happened to love? Dejected, Rip went back outside. He couldn’t bear to watch the fish in the bountiful water. They came to the surface to mock him.

“Hiss is beginning to learn how to be a proper companion.” Hissed the creator behind him. Was she apologizing? With hope shining in his golden eyes, Rip turned around. No offering of fish comes flying towards him.

“Yes, but this little rascal isn’t. He isn’t getting anything out of me. Last time he was in the pool he attacked my tail, the glutton.” Hissed the creator’s mate. They were accusing him, Rip knew.

Under their harsh judgment, he couldn’t do anything else but to lower his head and move back to the feel-good bushes. They didn’t judge him. They liked him. Had they created him, he would be eating a big fish now. Perhaps even the tail of the creator’s mate? That tasted very nice.

Rip’s tongue came out to lick his lips. One day. He purred in anticipation and found something run near the feel-good bushes. It was the rat again! Lowering himself back to the earth, Rip stalked towards it. The rat was sniffling at the tree of the creator. Then it did something blasphemous. It tore a leaf off the tree and ate it.

Yowling, Rip pounced on the rat. They wrestled on the ground. Maybe the creator was withholding fish from him in her anger, but she was still the creator! Rip loved her as if she was his mother! And this fleabag had desecrated the apple tree of life and mana! How dare it!

With a roar that sounded like a lion’s to Rip’s ears and an outraged meow to the rat’s Rip got his teeth around the snout of the rat. The rat struggled to get a breath in. It opened its mouth uselessly. Rip adjusted his maul around it too.

The breath of the rat smelled of greenery. This made Rip even angrier. He could feel the slight scent of a feel-good bush in there as well. The darn fiend had eaten from the feel-good bushes too!

With his anger now, a white-hot thing, Rip’s fangs clamped around the delicate snout, breaking it. The rat screamed in pain and Rip dug his claws into his neck. He began to rip it to ribbons and finally, he found a vein. Severing it, the kitten watched with great satisfaction as the shame of the theft of the leaves from both the secret tree and the feel-good bushes was finally paid for.

The rat exhaled for the last time and went limp. Rip thought about eating the rat right there and then. He was hungry, after all. But the creator needed to see he was a capable hunter. Maybe he will get a fish too for his efforts?

Slowly, Rip dragged the rat to the bountiful water cavern and instead of praise, he was met with a horrified gasp from the creator and laughter from her mate.

“Bad Rip! You made a bloody mess in the entire tunnel. Oh, I hope the ants can clean it,” hissed the creator. Rip began to purr in anger. A small bait fish came flying towards him.

“Don’t be mad now, grotto protector,” hissed the creator’s mate at him as he winked. “Have one on me. You better catch the rest of the rats, too,” the kind mate of the silly creator was waving a finger at him. Was he praising Rip? Rip waved his tail in his direction, mimicking the motion of the finger.

“He is somewhat cute now, although he did practically massacre that rat,” said the silly creator. She reached inside a shell and pulled out an oyster. Then slowly she neared Rip and placed it next to the rat.

“Father says that a varied diet is better for the organism,” hissed the creator, and Rip rewarded her with his full forgiveness. He expressed it by brushing his body against her hand. Then Hiss did something that made him reconsider if he wanted to mate with her. She stole his rat and ran off.

Bouncing after her, he left the embarrassing laughter of the creator’s mate behind. Hiss finally stopped in the mushroom grove and Rip cornered her, blocking, or at least thinking that he had blocked, the exit.

Rip hissed at Hiss, expressing his displeasure at her. She lowered her upper body as if to jump and stretched her limbs. She was pretty, his Hiss. Her fur had the same shine as the creator’s fur, and she had the loveliest whiskers.

Rip began to purr. He had fought for this rat, and he wasn’t about to hand it over, not even to his mate. Hiss returned his challenge with a purr of her own. They circled the fallen rat, tails waving like the stems of the feel-good bushes as they smelled it.

But this action won’t bring comfort. This was a warning. Hiss was the first to pounce. She bit Rip’s tail, and the male murder muffin yowled in pain. He scratched at her, but she jumped away at the last second. She was laughing at him, he could feel it in her purr.

They were locked in the dance macabre again. Legs kicking at the other, claws looking for purchase in the soft flesh of the other. Fangs biting each other’s neck. The trust they had shared was broken. Their love was forgotten. All over a rat.

Rip cursed the rat and the cruel fate that had befallen him. He thought back on all he did with Hiss by his side. Of all the times they tricked the creator and mock hunted her. Of all the fish, they lured to each other’s position. Of the moonlit night, they spend curled together for warmth.

Then, Rip gave up the fight and exposed his neck. The rat wasn’t worth it, he realized. He watched as Hiss bounced to the rat and tore at its flesh. She tore out the heart and ate it. Then she moved back to Rip and brushed his nose with her tail, going back to the bountiful water and leaving the rest of the meat for Rip.

Women were weird, decided Rip. It won’t be the last time he came to this conclusion, either.