Gavroche: chapter oneGasping for breath, I crouch in an alley behind a box and open my hands. A small roll sits in my palms. I glance back at the bakery, and sigh in relief when I see that no one noticed. I settle down to eat, ripping apart the small, fluffy ball of bread and breathing in its warm, buttery smell.Gavroche: chapter one by MissRussia24601
"Hey." I leap to my feet, ready to fight. In the alleyway entrance stands a young girl, her clothes ragged and wearing no shoes. Her gold hair is pulled back beneath a filthy handkerchief which I suppose is supposed to be white. A layer of coal dust seems to have settled over her, and her violet-gray eyes look exhausted.
"You're not supposed to have that." The girl tells me, gesturing with slender fingers at the bread in my hand.
"Why do you care?" I hiss, holding it closer to me. She steps forward.
"The rest of us are starving!" She wails. "It's not fair. We don't steal for our food."
"Would be better if you did. Every man for himself out here." I tell her. "I'm lucky I didn't get caught. Now go
The true storyI couldn't let anyone know. No one could know. ShadowClan didn't kill Spottedleaf. I did.The true story by MissRussia24601
The clan never suspected it. They didn't recognize the fur in her claws, they didn't know it was mine.
I was jealous. Firepaw was so handsome. I really liked him, kittypet roots and all. I was jealous.
Her blood leaked through my claws, satisfying me. I finally thought Firepaw was mine.
He became a warrior. I was so proud. Fireheart. A strong name for a handsome tom.
Then Cinderpaw came along.
I was the one who set the trap. It wasn't meant for Bluestar.
It was for Cinderpaw all along.
Finally, Fireheart was mine, all mine.
I was possessive
I was territorial
I was dangerous
I am dangerous.
I am a killer.
In the middle of a clan.
No one suspects.
No one knows.
I am Sandstorm.
|I am a singer, actress, director, artist, musician, photographer. I am a Russian-born teenaged girl living in the U.S with my best friend and my boyfriend.|