Dusty's Adventures: The Beginning. Chapter 1 (Beginning)
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Vocal Characteristics
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EnglishVoice Age
Teen (13-17)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM) Scottish (General)Transcript
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Chapter one, The Moon Lady, the wenzel and dusty a nun familiar smell. So there, through my alley near the Pike Street Market, where the yummy fish were sold, the late afternoon Seattle air stung like the ***** of a cat's claw is every hair. My tail jumped to attention. Something was about to happen. This reminded me of something Mama always warned about when I was small and my brothers and sister were still around my lovely ones. If your tail bristles for no reason, run for a tree incline or hunker into the toll grass and be still, weasels are coming. Too bad there weren't any trees or tall grass around. I wouldn't great, and Mama was long gone. I depended on the piles of moldy newspapers and throwing away bottles strewn along the brick walls in my alley to keep me in my home. Hidden sometimes, like right now, I wish I didn't live in the city. Loud scrunching sounds from large claws echoed through the air as a nasty stink wafted toward my crate, flattening my whiskers. This wasn't the possum's coming to visit or the Rottweiler from the deli across the street. A shiver started in my paws and raced up my legs. The scrape scrape of strange pause, scratching through the gravel warned that something big was coming. Something different. Mm, you better be terrible to anything that noisy would probably starve. Otherwise, snuffling sounds puffed along my thin wood wall, setting the hairs on my tail on end. For a moment, I thought they'd all pop off. Then the world fell silent crack. The walls of my create exploded into a cloud of splinters as enormous bang snap shut within a whiskers with of my face. The stench of rancid breath was suffocating, but at least now I could see what hunted me. The top of the varmints head was shaded with grays, whites and specks of black like any reasonable animal. But up close, this thing wasn't reasonable. It was multiple shades of weird. Its forehead was nothing but bare skull and two empty holes sat words I should have been, well, not quite empty. A blood red glow lurked inside them. It's lower. John Neck, whereas large and fleshy as a pit bull that lived two blocks east of here, may be bigger. So that's what Mama was talking about when she mentioned weasels. No wonder, she said, to hide. My heart pounded, but not with fear. I should have been terrified, but all I wanted to do was teach that stinky thing a lesson for wrecking my house. This weasel had earned itself a prickly mouth full of claws and a prompt shredding of its underbelly or mining wasn't kitten. The monster got my best hiss. I would have arched my back to if there had been room with the smelly thing, pushed its face closer, still snarling and snapping its teeth. Pressed me hard against the only wall of my home that was still standing. Ah, quick duck and a scurry But we under its jaw, making enough room to scoop beneath it all the better to find its soft spots and Rick them with my claws I thrust my part upward claws extended the tips scraped against a bare bony spine and for cover gristle, the weasel had no belly softer. Otherwise, as for its tail, the long, sneaky thing offered more of the same bonus. Hey, weasel, what happened to your tail? Get caught in to many doors. I'm asked her promises yours when we catch you it hissed, the things hold its body and its had snaked around trying to draw me into a crushing embrace and ripped me to shreds with its back cause. A sigh faint and a quick dodge made enough room to clear its grasp. And I should need passed its bony spine and up towards its face. Ah, fast lunch! My claw hit its target. One of the glowing eyeholes! Take that! I shouted. Who easel jerked away! Scram! You mean Jim Monster! Leave that poor cop be a lady's voice. I go through the early evening air like the ringing of a bell.