A kitten peeked out of the barn. Well, not a kitten, he was already a real cat. He had a rusty-red fur coat and his green eyes sparkled. It was obvious that he had something up his sleeve. The young tomcat looked left and right to make sure the coast was clear. And then, with one elegant leap, he landed in the tall grass. He crouched down and chuckled while twitching his whiskers. He'd done it again!
The tomcat lived with his mother in the barn, where they shared a small straw den. His mother was a true domestic cat. She was very proud of it. She sunbathed in the garden all day long. Sometimes she'd groom herself. However, she also knew her duties and kept the house clean of mice and other pests.
She'd let her mistress pet her. Sometimes she even arched her back towards her owner's hand. But by far the most important thing for her was taking care of her son. Although she named him Rusty, everyone called him Roamer. He liked any kind of adventure or fun.
He longed to see the world beyond the fence - and his mother didn’t like it in the slightest. She herself left the garden from time to time, so she knew well what dangers her feline teen might face out there. It was her only son, after all. But Roamer didn’t care. He'd go out to wander the fields or the forest all of the time. He didn’t care if his mother got mad. It was worth it. He loved it when the wind stroked his fur in the field. Or when the needles in the forest cracked under his paws.
He also liked the smell of fresh water, although he balanced along the stream bank…
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