I was on the brink. At 62% health and 0% morale, I was losing faith in my power to fight a ferocious, relentless wolf. And now I was doing it as a nekomata, in this humanoid form I was taking on for only the second or third time.

It was hard not to tremble, thanks obviously to my fear, but also to the fact that I had no clothes, again. So I was freezing. In that light, it was a blessing when the wolf used that Skill I was mentally calling the “Fire Blade.”

It wasn’t a physical sword one could carry around, but the shape that unfurled in the air before me, that was the blade. A tall, narrow shape cut through the air, blazing scarlet. I dove sideways, cried out, and crashed to my side as another tree died in flames that night.

In my cat form, I usually had no trouble rolling from a fall to my feet. But now when I instinctively extended all four limbs—as if I was expecting to stand on arms and legs—they all got tangled in one another.

I couldn’t fight in this form! And my confidence in my ability to get this wolf to run into their own fires was flagging—they were keeping their distance and, by the looks of their vicious, smoking mouth, clearly charging a second Fire Blade. After failing to bite through my neck and fearing my ability to transform, their strategy had taken a hard left. Meanwhile, I had zero long-range attacks—unless you count throwing the pink lotus flower in my Inventory, which, from what I’d seen and tried, couldn’t even reach beyond a few inches.

I settled on de-Morphing and running. On getting into a pit or cave where the wolf couldn’t reach, or maybe running around for so long that the wolf got too exhausted to stay angry.

Fine. Try it. Now—

But then things changed.

“Hey!” cried a voice from the west.

I didn’t turn. Neither did the wolf, but maybe they should have, because a new blade of magic, white-pink and radiant, slammed into their neck and nearly cleaved their head off.

With a dry bark, the wolf teetered. They almost fell onto their side, but stayed strong. All while a wound blossomed on their neck and, as I could see now, all down their side with streaks of blood.

The sight was grisly, even for me. Raw, screaming flesh, on a creature that had been so cocky moments before.

Two thoughts kept me alert, kept my mind focused on the future:

You’re a hunter, you’ve seen things like this before.

Be happy it wasn’t you.

Seconds later, the pain caught up with the wolf. They collapsed onto their unhurt side, a still and whining heap.

Footsteps came fast down the mountainside. Heavy boots. Before I could fully register what was happening, I looked up to see…

Reed.

That’d been her voice across the mountain, her magical shockwave.

I turned and saw—sword in hand, walking more tentatively down the lush slope—my protector. Maybe by chance and maybe by kindness. I felt so grateful that it didn’t even matter. And when our eyes met, I knew that this wasn’t the first time.

It wasn’t the second time, either.

Either she’d saved me years ago, or she had a doppelganger in another world.

***

I’ve always lived on my own. I’d never gotten comfortable with the idea of a stable home, a constant place to fall. Precious few of Earth’s feral and stray cats had that. The rest of us didn’t—couldn’t.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Once, in my former life, a hard winter came to the city. Food was never enough, ransacked from dumpsters as soon as it landed. There was no water, but the streets were clogged with frost and black ice. I was young and fragile. To save myself at that age from prowling dogs and older, stronger cats, I needed to stay out of their way. There were cracks under buildings and open drains where I knew I could huddle. But it was so cold I couldn’t stand to. Any heat was a mercy, any spark was a fire. I would drag myself out of the shadows instead so that, when it was midday, the sunlight would bake my body and kiss away my pain.

A few of the people who came across me were cruel. Most ignored me. My least favorites were the ones who tried to help.

One day I’d gotten scuffed up by older cats—scuffed and scarred. Still I lay on a sidewalk corner and sighed in the heat of the sun.

A little girl ran to me, bundled in a coat, a scarf, all those human comfort things. She was carrying something under one arm: a shoebox.

I refused. On another day I might’ve yowled and walked away. I was too weak, though, to really respond. I blinked slowly.

This girl was persistent. She kneeled and opened the box. I wondered if she would shove me in.

But there was a home’s worth of supplies in there: a box of treats, a bottle full of water, and a crocheted blanket.

She gave them to me. She did her best to make me drink from the bottle and to lift the treats to my mouth. Once those days were dead and gone, I could never remember where the blanket went. I couldn’t even remember if I ate anything…

And now that pained me. Now, in the woods of what I’d dubbed Reed’s Mountain, I felt thankful, and sorry that I’d ever been unthankful.

I doubted that Reed and that girl from long ago were the same person, but even so, I wanted surprisingly badly to believe they were.

That girl was taller and stronger now. Her colors were washed out by the night, but the rose gold in her eyes grew all the deeper.

I felt locked in place, nervous beyond words. More than anything, I was frantically wondering about Reed’s apparent lack of nerves. I would’ve expected her to be as flustered as she had been on the steps of the cabin, making a flushed and hasty decision, but…if Reed was feeling any of that, it didn’t show in her face right now. She looked like she had practiced, like she had been a hero before.

But then she was just a step or two away from me. That was when she sheathed her sword in the space behind her back, extended her hand in a loose fist, and smiled, becoming normal again.

She kneeled before me, a human greeting a nekomata.

A stunned fight-or-flight response overwhelmed me. My gut told me to run away as fast as possible.

No! No more mistakes tonight! I would put away my claws and take her firmly by the hand, like any friendly human. I would thank her—

“Meow,” I said in my humanoid form. The “word” tumbled out of my mouth.

I stared at her.

She stared at me.

The moment stretched. I felt mortified. How long would this go on…

Reed laughed. An awkward chuckle to diffuse the tension. It didn’t work for me.

I raised my hand by a few wobbling centimeters and she took it—practically snatched it. Then she clasped it with both hands, warm and firm. We stayed like that, perfectly still, for long seconds.

Instead of shaking on it, she slowly tugged me closer. She set my arm back at my side and wrapped both of hers around me.

I was unsure how I felt, except that I was melting in confusion. That much I knew for sure.

But she wasn’t hugging me, not anymore. Now she was at my side, with one arm locked across my shoulders. Considering how light and wibbly on my feet I was, I certainly needed someone to keep me upright.

She told me, “Let’s get you back to camp.”

Right then, there was nothing I’d rather have done. I would’ve jumped off a cliff if she’d said to.

Treasure Detected! Check your Map for the location.

Oh, shut up…

***

So I’d forgotten what I did with the gifts Young Reed gave me years ago? Fine. This time, I’d do better. I’d remember every single solitary moment from the wolf to her campsite!

Is what I told myself moments before fainting.

I woke up with dawn in my eyes. I was out in the open, no tent. Reed had cocooned me inside of a quilt. I must’ve changed from human to cat while I was out cold, because I could feel the quilt stretching far, far around me. I couldn’t tell what anything else was. Everything was in shadow, though light traced lines around them.

My eyes wanted to squint shut, not because the dawn was so radiantly bright but because I was still half-asleep.

A rough, rhythmic sound was close by. I turned as much as my tired body was able, then looked up. I thought I was seeing Reed sitting on a stone next to me, one leg crossed loose and casual over the other, as she carved an abstract four-footed something with her knife.

Sleep was falling upon me again. The shadows grew blurry with my tears. Sometimes I woke up with these meaningless tears in my eyes, but I decided now they were happy tears.

No one else had ever given me a home.