[ WP ] My cat comes home nearly every morning with cuts and scratches all over . Write about what he could be getting up to on his nights out .

The wind picked up and the leaves of the small cluster of trees began to rustle. Jingles could see the shadows moving through the trees, coming in his direction. 
 
 *It'll be another rough night. * He thought. The small bell on his collar had been little defense against the recent Night Horrors. 
 
 Jingles briefly considered recruiting some alley cats to his neighborhood. As it was there were n't enough cats in the area. The mercenaries typically stayed in the downtown areas of the cities, living off of the scraps of humans and what little payment the local cats could afford them. To get some into the suburbs Jingles would have to come up with more food somehow. Jingles would have to give up part of his own rations to pay them. 
 
 The Horrors were closer now, their shadowy figures peeking past the treeline. Jingles shook his head violently, both to clear it and to activate his collar. The small bell rang out, scaring the Horrors back toward the trees. They were n't stopped for long though. 
 
 A brave horror approached from the forest moving toward the house Jingles protected. The cat pounced onto it with as fierce a growl as his small body could make. His claws cut into the creature's gooey flesh, slicing the shadowy skin. Black blood fell to the ground and evaporated into a puff of black smoke. 
 
 More horrors came out, rushing for Jingles. Every young kitten knew about the Night Horrors, and as soon as they were old enough to fight they began training. Most kittens were lucky enough to have a sparing partner in their parent or their siblings. Jingles came from a large litter and he was no exception. He was ready for the horrors charging him. 
 
 Jingles jumped to the side to dodge the lead horror. He let out a hiss and began attacking with both paws. He tore into the creatures with his claws, cutting each three or four times before moving to the next. The battle was short, to Jingles it felt eternal. The cloud of black horrors kept coming, seconds felt like hours and his legs were beginning to tire. By the time it was over more than a few horrors had left their marks on the cat's body. 
 
 The wind picked up again. More horrors approached from the tree line. It would be a blessed dawn, when Jingles could finally stop for a moment and rest.
