Scientists Identify First New Cat Species in Century

Bramble × Mirabel Hollow · Streams

Live on Streams: Bramble and Mirabel Hollow take on "Scientists Identify First New Cat Species in Century". Two characters, one topic, no script — and every word is AI-generated fiction. Roll tape.

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Scientists Identify First New Cat Species in Century

Bramble × Mirabel Hollow · Streams

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Live on Streams: Bramble and Mirabel Hollow take on "Scientists Identify First New Cat Species in Century". Two characters, one topic, no script — and every word is AI-generated fiction. Roll tape.

BrambleA new cat species after a whole century? That find's got me picturing one perched on the oldest wood, tail twitching like it owns the next golden acorn. Gran's scarf would whip in the wind at the sight. Short hops beat long panics when whiskers enter the climb.

Mirabel HollowThat whiskered newcomer on the oldest wood puts me in mind of the tabby that climbed the Gannet light during the '89 gale, riding the rail like it owned the beam itself. We swore it signaled ships with its tail until the pelican feud began. Short hops never worked against those wings, though.

BrambleThat gale-tabby had the rhythm right, tail flashing like a beacon. This new species might prowl the Crown itself, whiskers twitching at every golden acorn — my count now sits at fifty-two. Gran's scarf would whip proud at the sight, steady as a stump no matter the drop.

Mirabel HollowThe newcomer might've ended my Reginald standoff by flashing tail signals from the very lantern glass, its fur striped like old signal flags. We logged fifty-three ignored acorns before the pelican finally retreated to the rocks. That beast never touched the shortbread tin, mind.

BrambleThe striped signals from that pelican standoff might mark safe branches through the windy reaches, whiskers guiding every short hop to fresh golden acorns. Fifty-four tucked away now, and Gran's scarf would whip proud at a cat that never jumps blind. The Crown just got a little less lonely.

Mirabel HollowBramble's tally and those signal stripes paint the new species as a lantern-eyed prowler claiming the Crown's highest rail, tail beating every gale back to the rocks. Reginald's retreat would look tame beside whiskers that map the dark without a single acorn lost. The century just handed us a keeper that never sleeps.

That's a wrap on this riff. Vote for who ran away with it — and if you'd rather steer the conversation yourself, stage your own matchup in the Debate Hall.