(Kanya)

Life was hard when you couldn't talk. It was exponentially harder when you had other issues because well, the reason you couldn't talk was because your grandmother had literally cut your tongue out of your mouth. She'd largely learned to communicate in gestures, and in the Punishment district, you didn't really need to talk to do your job effectively. In fact, it was probably more unnerving for cats to wonder why she wasn't talking, and then be surprised to see a cat missing a tongue if she opened her mouth. Not that she could tell them the League had nothing to do with why she was missing her tongue. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Her father had joined the League, which is why Sayaka had felt it 'necessary' to take her ability to talk back. But that wasn't really worth the effort to explain either.

She stretched, walking around the abandoned cemetery and looking at the tombstones. A cat, a kittypet if she recalled, a while ago, had explained to her how these numbers worked. So, she understood how the twoleg script translated into numbers now, and how a year was four seasons, and sort of how years were calculated by them. As such she found it fascinating to read these stones. Twolegs lived such long lives by comparison, and if she was reading these numbers right, some of these were startlingly old, in a time so long gone, she wasn't even sure the clans had existed back then, or that any cat could remember it.