Things seemed to always turn band for Cheeto. He felt frustrated and wanted to get back at others for it, but he wasn't sure of what he was to do. He pawed at he ground with a claw as he sat under a rather huge tree. It seemed like the only tree for at least a few yards. It was out in the middle of a field. He found that it was his favorite place to go when he felt like thinking. Not that he did too much. He really didn't want to be like his grand father. Fighting seemed to only cause more problems and he was now seeing that.
Though, he couldn't help but to be mean to everyone he met. He had to try to change that. Though, how? He pondered a bit more, but being a kit, it was hard to actually think of things that could help, he figured when he was older it'd be a lot easier.
