In all his tiny life, Atticus had always been careful. He’s always made sure to hide well enough, and only take just enough to survive.. Never, in his five-inch life, would he have imagined he’d been in this crappy of a situation.

Backed up to a corner, pinned with no escape, by a four legged feline.. a cat. The last thing he wanted was to get eaten by the furry beast.. but he also didn’t want to get caught by the human he’s been borrowing from. That would be an even worse fate than ending up as cat food..

The white beast before him attempted to paw at him, swiping its clawed mitts in his direction. It let out curious mews and chittering sounds.. Atticus could hear the heavy footfall of the human, most likely walking this way based on the way they called out to the beast.

This was it.. he was dead..