CTA//RS11. Log #43, Cycle 729.

A tap of water on the black cat's nose woke them from their slumber, their body paralysing with fear as they struggled to blink the sleep from their eyes. Yet the sound of pouring rain did not fill their four ears, nor did the ground shake beneath them as it did so frequently when the rain came. The cycle's rain must have ended by now, and the eternal journey they were on must be waiting outside. With their muscles loosening and shock subsiding, they got ready to meet the wispy rays of light once more outside the darkness of the home they had fashioned to a shelter for their last rest.
         Unfurling their tail from their nose, CTA//RS11 pulled herself to her paws with several clicks sounding from her back. She had been resting for a while after all, and in such a hunched position to conserve warmth always left her back aching and her joints rooting for the outside. Two spears laid in front of her, gently glinting in the soft light coming from the crack that led to the outside world. Grasping the spears in her front paws, she found the tendril on both sides of her waist after some rummaging with the blunt end of each spear, gently slotting the rebar in until they were nested happily by her side. All that was left was to leave the safety of her dark nest and continue her journey in the scorching lights and petrifying heights she had grown used to over what she remembered of her life.
         Pulling herself through the crack of light in front of her, she was met with an unusual calmness that came paw-in-paw with these heights; heights where the clouds were just an arm's reach away and the structures of the past were just a small splotches of color to her eyes. A small, sheltered ledge laid ahead of her - the cream bricks held up by a tree's roots that dangled precariously over a drop to nowhere. A scratch of its bark told her that it had been her last meal before she slept, and she thanked it in her mind as she went to sit by the edge of the platform in a small moment of peace.
         A landscape of fluctuating greens and purples greeted her as she looked down over a crumbling edge, ancient ruins smaller than the tiny claws that poked from her hind paws. Not a single massive gray structure stood to hurt her eyes, only the soft peace of what she guessed had been the entire world before they were constructed. Soft droplets of water trickled down from the ledge above, plashing softly beside her as a rainbow began to form in the dying showers of rain far beyond her. It was calm. She could spend a little of her cycle here.

         Suddenly, the ledge beside her no longer existed. With a horrifying crash, she threw herself back as where she sat just moments ago crumbled to the endless fall below. She scampered to her paws at once, her four ears perking up to full alert with her fur puffing out subconsciously. Grabbing one of her rebar spears in a fluffy paw, she ripped it from her side in a hissing fit of pain, the tendril that held it coming off too. It would regrow, it always did, but it hurt nonetheless as her blood splattered to the cream bricks below.
         The air itself began to shake as the predator that had done this to her came into view. A King Vulture, fully in its pride with its eyes teeming malice, flew in front of the tunnel she sheltered herself in. With a hiss, she noticed one of its face spears was missing. No wonder half of her world had crumbled just then, she thought as she realised it was getting ready to fire the other one. She could not dodge what was about to happen. She had once chance and one spear to disable the flying beast. Hitting a wing wouldn't stop it in time. Hitting its body wouldn't do anything at all. Hitting its face...? She had to try.
         Pulling herself to her full size and loosening her muscles, she shot herself back into stance with the spear held behind her - ready to throw. She had one try, she thought as she steadied herself and her oddly calm mind, one try to get the spear to stick. She launched herself forward, pushing her weight through her legs as she felt the spear part from her paw.
         A crushing wave of satisfaction spread through her deathly-calm mind as she saw the King Vulture's demeanour and eyes change. Malice to fear. Predator to prey. Then, she could see the vulture's eye no more - a bar of metal sticking straight out of one of its grotesque mask's eyeholes as it quickly began to fall. Rushing forward, she watched as the vulture hit its face against an outstretched beam of the tower, the spear emerging from the other side of its head as it quickly fell past her view.

This is an old story, submitted on request of a friend who wanted to read it (hi manueh). It was never completed, but please enjoy anyway.
Rain World.