Three little punks.
Skinny jeans, shiny loafers, and little jackets.
Every one of them was more obnoxious and over-the-top than the last.
Calling them thugs would have been giving them too much credit.
At most, they were street rats, swindling and bullying the weak, the old, the sick, and the disabled.
"Boss, look. She's still got that paper in her mouth."
"I'm honestly curious now. What's drawn on it?"
The young man at the front of the group suddenly kicked the one behind him in the butt and snapped, "What are you waiting for? Get over there and snatch it for me!"
He was dressed too lightly and felt a little cold, so he stayed put, rubbing his hands and holding the rear.
Click—
A lighter's flame flickered faintly in the alley.
A wisp of smoke rose from between the young man's fingers.
At his command, the other two punks moved to surround her.
The Tricolor Cat was forced farther and farther back, until she was pressed against the icy wall.
With something in her mouth, she could barely move.
For a feline, having something in its mouth was like losing its deadliest weapon.
But she still had the claws her kind took pride in.
Whoosh!
Before the other two punks could react, several bloody gashes appeared on their arms. Cat mother's gaze was cold as she slowly drew in her claws. She couldn't be bothered with such human trash; with a light leap, she tried to escape the alley.
"Ah—!"
The pain hit them belatedly, and their pig-like squeals echoed through the alley.
The two punks' eyes instantly reddened. "You old, dead thing! You dare scratch us?"
They hadn't even seen Cat mother attack.
With adrenaline coursing through their veins, ordinary people wouldn't imagine anything supernatural.
All they wanted