Sorrel Cats Novels & Stories

She had a few imported big orange cats such as Garfield, Sunset, and Scorchy, as well as a few large domestic orange cats. Hilda held the wine glass elegantly and replied "Cat? I have a big orange cat. It was there just now, but I don't know where it is now." Big orange cat? How lame! Of course, Sahara didn't let her off the hook. "Well then, why don't you bring your big orange cat over and let me have a look!" Hilda was in a quandary. "No thanks. My orange cat is not worth looking at at all. It's just a common and ordinary orange cat."

I’ve faced my fair share of evil, illness, plague, and fought darker forces, and none of them have made me as terrified as being close to Sorrel made me. She was armless, but still very lethal. The way her eyes glowed when she was angry, or when she hatched a new mischievous plan, or when she was with the villagers. They all made my chest tighten. “I think you should rest, you are tired.” I made my way to the door but then she quickly added. “Stay, I won’t do anything.” Her hands were raised in a surrendering manner. “Sorrel.” She exhaled, her eyes fixed on me. “I like it when you say my name.”

Sasha Forster looks like a curled ball of flames, been asleep for years and this gossip is the one that ignited the fire that was once alive inside her. “What?” Sasha asked in a whisper. Sorrel gasped, batted her eyelashes beneath the shadow of her eyes. She swore Sasha’s amber eyes blazed, a living beast of fire. Even her new friend’s chestnut hair glowed like the crackling embers. Even the air heated around them, bathing Sorrel’s face in sweat even early in the morning. Not that she complained, in fact this is a good thing after all. “You’re not asking my question, Sorrel.” She dropped her spoon in her bowl in a clang that even the birds perched in the ledge of the floor-to-ceiling windows