Mar. 8th, 2007

[identity profile] i-small-one.livejournal.com
Pika slowly pads down the street, looking around, then sniffing, searching in vain for a familiar scent.

Her tiny Bat cowl was still on, but half the cape burnt off, beneath her fur singed and ruffled, and the tiny thing was walking with a slight limp.

She looked around, then wailed softly, limping to a manhole cover and sniffing it. But there were no scents on it, and when she knocked her paw on it, but there was no answer.

The tiny orange kitten looked up, eyes widdening wen she smelled electricity. A moment later there was a crack and then a downpour.

The tiny kitten hurried under a garbage can lid, which was leaning against the can it had fallen from. There she cowered, mewing loudly, wishing for her friends to come find her.

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Brenda Wayne-Gordon's Gotham

January 2008

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