It was a big rat. So big Hunter considered stopping and eating some of it before carrying it the rest of the way back to his den.
He approached the colony. Already he could sense several cats nearby. He knew he would have an audience when he arrived. That was fine. That was good. To bring back his catch for all to see only confirmed his status as the best hunter in the colony. A rat was a formidable opponent, especially one this big. But he was Hunter. Only a skilled hunter, a brave hunter would even attempt to take on a rat.
Normally he weaved through the wrecks, staying under them, but not today. It was such an impressive kill he wanted everybody to see it. He had a swagger in his step as he came into the open space at the center of the colony. Instantly the other cats took notice of him. They were impressed. Some of them got up, stretched and came toward him for a closer look.
“That’s quite the catch,” one of the tomcats said.
Hunter stopped and set the rat down on the ground, placing a front paw on top of it.
“He’s enormous,” a younger cat added. “Did he put up a good fight?”
“Does it look like he put up a good fight?” Hunter asked.
Mittens came out of the den and approached Hunter. They touched noses. “You’re all right…right?” she asked.
“Do you think a little rat could harm Hunter?”
“It’s not such a little rat,” a calico cat said. “It looks so big it could be king of the rat colony.”
“It is big,” a voice said.
Hunter didn’t need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. It was King, the old tom and leader of the colony. He was standing off to the side of the colony.
King was the largest cat in the colony. He was bigger than Hunter, bigger than any other cat in the colony, which was why he was the King. He was white and gray, and one ear was ripped and torn from a long-ago-forgotten fight. Often he seemed to be slow-moving, but in an instant he could pounce and attack, quick as lightning. Over the years, he had chased away cats that challenged his position. Those that remained were forced to accept their place beneath him. Every cat in the colony was beneath him, except Hunter.
Hunter had never confronted King, and King had never confronted Hunter. Occasionally Hunter would secretly bring King some of his kills, to pay homage. But since the birth of the kittens, Hunter hadn’t been able to kill much for King.
“The rat is big enough for a king to eat,” King said.
Hunter had known this would happen someday. He just wished it wasn’t today. Maybe it didn’t have to be. King slowly moved toward Hunter. Hunter felt his fight-or-flight senses activate. If he fled, he’d leave behind his kill and lose face in front of the other cats, in front of Mittens. If he fought him, he couldn’t possibly win, but he could put up a good fight.
Hunter didn’t know he wasn’t the only one who wanted to avoid a confrontation. King knew he was bigger than Hunter. He was confident in his strength and skills, and he was an experienced fighter. But there was something about Hunter that unnerved him. King knew he would win a fight with Hunter, but he wondered what the cost would be. Would he be hurt in the fight? If nothing else, chasing Hunter away would cost him future meals. Right now he would bide his time and wait.
“The big ones aren’t very tasty,” King said. “Too tough.”
King walked off, leaving Hunter with his foot still firmly planted on top of the rat. Hunter picked up the rat and started toward his den. He wasn’t going to give King a chance to change his mind. He ducked down the hole with Mittens behind him.
Instantly he was swarmed by the kittens. He dropped the rat and they converged on it. He retreated to a corner of the den.
“I hate him,” Mittens said.
“You and most of the cats in the colony.”
“If everybody feels that way, then why is he the king?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It isn’t a popularity contest. He’s the king because he is the biggest and the best fighter.”
“If he had attacked you, I would have fought him,” she said.
“What?”
“I would have attacked him,” she said.
“Don’t even talk like that. You can’t fight him.”
“Is it because I don’t have front claws?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“I still have my teeth. I could dig them into his neck and—”
“Have you ever been in a fight?”
“Well, when I was a kitten with my litter mates.”
“That’s play. Have you ever seen King fight?”
“I see him bat around the other cats all the time,” she said.
“No, I mean a real fight. One where he uses his fangs, claws and weight. He is a savage.”
“I don’t care how savage he is. I wouldn’t stand by and let him—”
“If I ever have to fight him, I don’t want you to stick around. I want you to run back to the den, to take care of yourself and our kittens.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“You have to,” he said. “Look, I have avoided fighting him, but sooner or later it’s going to happen.”
“And that’s when you’ll need my help.”
“You couldn’t help me.”
“What if a few cats all attacked him at once?” she asked. “Not just you and me, but some of the other cats who he’s hurt or stolen food from or was mean to in the past?”
There was so much she didn’t understand. “That’s how dogs fight,” he said.
“Everybody says you’ll be the king someday.”
“Talk like that is going to get me into a fight with him.”
“You would be a better king than him. You would take care of the other cats the way you take care of me and our kittens. You would give them guidance and teach them how to hunt.”
“That will never happen,” he said. “That isn’t how cats operate. You know cats never tell each other what to do.”
“Why not?”
“Cats are too independent. We’re not dogs,” he said.
“Then maybe we should learn to be a little bit more like dogs.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing we could ever learn from dogs except how to drool and smell bad.”
She went over and nuzzled against him. “You will be a good king.”
Hunter didn’t answer, but he didn’t disagree.