Leopard padded around twoleg place. Everywhere he turned, he saw death. And what he knew was even worse, he caused a lot of it himself. He didn't seem to care, though, or at least he didn't want to. "Not my fault the weak deserve to die," he thought.
Leopard was known by the cats of this horrible twoleg place as "The Cat of Ice" because he was cold and dark. Every cat who came in contact with him died. And he seemed not to care even a little.
The gold and black tomcat padded into his den. It was cold, dark, and damp; just like the rest of their world that seemed to have a pall of drakness constantly over it. Just like every night, he had to fight his racing, guilty thoughts just to fall asleep.