A robin winged their way onto the tip of a stalk of wheat.

I snatched at them.

In the critical moment, the robin flew off, and all I had to show for it was a bit of feather on one set of claws. I was more agile now, for sure, but…still I couldn’t fly. Were there some things a cat was never destined to beat?

Heck no. I wasn’t gonna be beaten for long. I had a Map! I had the power to track!

Track that robin!

Tracking marker applied.

Time remaining: 72 hours

Markers remaining: 2

image [https://jmassat.com/wp-content/Catgirl%20System/Map/Map85-1.png]

Neat! I’d just tagged the bird and, if I wanted to, I could follow their route in real time! For now they were in plain sight—shrinking northward into the distance—but soon this would become invaluably useful!

…Wait…how much Experience did I even get from robins? Maybe there was better prey. Or a better target to have a friendly sparring match with. I calmed down my bloodlust a little, remembering that a fight gone too far could become grisly.

With new powers and Stats at my disposal, I was hungry for battle, in go-time mode. At the same time, I was in literal go-time, let’s-get-home-already mode. Reed was watching me curiously from the path as I waited in the wafting wheat. I was mulling things over, caught in my own indecision. Not realizing I was also making her wait.

“Uhh,” Reed said, “we can…we can find more birds, and probably even stronger ones, if that’s what you’re into…”

What? How did she guess?!

Or maybe my thirst for adventure and advancement was that obvious…

In any case, I turned around with a defeated sigh and rejoined her. We continued jogging, not walking, back to Reed’s cabin. The chance that we’d be dead tired at the end of the trip was no issue for us—we’d be collapsing into cozy beds and sofas anyway.

I wondered where the cattle from our last trip through had gone…and just then, I saw a turning horn flash from between tall grasses. Out of respect for the meat they’d already given us, their enormous strength, and most of all Reed’s SP, however, I figured we’d better venture on.

Maybe I should try tracking a herd of cattle, instead of a piddly, familiar, no doubt low-Level robi—

Woah, what the heck was that?!

Turn around, Reed! I caught myself thinking, but I didn’t know enough. So I didn’t make a sound.

I’d frozen in place, my gaze stuck on a rustling patch of grass very close by. Had I seen a ghost? A baby bear? A…what?

Reed stopped and grabbed her weapon—I heard the soft sound of her hand gripping the scabbard. We breathed, and I stared.

I couldn’t see that strange shape anymore.

I decided I’d go after it.

I gave Reed the “meow” that meant “stay put,” along with a nod to help reassure her that I’d be alright. Reed nodded back, looking as stern as a guard. Clearly she was ready to jump in and strike if I decided I needed it. Good Reed.

Then I strode forward into the grass—and used my new Skill, Cloak.

SP 68% (369/545)

Now, this was exciting. I would’ve killed to have this ability on Earth—I think anyone would. Invisibility across every sense? That was so cheap it was practically unfair! And unlike with the power of that spicy-looking Tortoiseshell Eccentric I could’ve Evolved into, I didn’t have to study terrain types or anything to get it!

But on the outside, I didn’t lose my head. Even though I knew I couldn’t be seen by my specific target (I’d had the rustling shape centered in my mind as I used the Skill), I wasn’t fool enough not to realize that by walking through this grass, I was leaving extremely detectable pathways. Plus, other animals could detect me just fine.

While I went fast, I also tried to move with the soft wind blowing. Did my footsteps match the flow of the grass completely? Absolutely not, but I could trick other animals for a vital half-second. The strategy I had in mind reminded me of darting rabbits, or even zebra hides: when camouflage fails, try confusion.

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What I’d seen was a blur, hairy and wheat-colored. Fast, but not totally gone just yet. Probably resting. I was counting on the chance that it was resting.

As I moved, I felt my Speed Stat hitch up. Ah, I forgot that my old Ash Heather Trait was still in that menu! I didn’t need it right now, but as usual, it was nice to have some biofeedback telling me I was doing a good job being stealthy. I modulated my pace and kept it low.

Cloak is no longer active.

Shoot. I’d lost track of time there. Well, I didn’t mind activating the Skill again. Though the 120 SP cost was painfully high, the stakes were comfortingly low.

I set off another Cloak.

SP 46% (249/545)

Then, concentrating, I picked up a scent. An animal’s…another bird?

Ah. The picture was getting clearer. I didn’t have an encyclopedic knowledge of Earth animals, but I could safely say I knew as much as the average ten-year-old. I was formulating a profile of this animal, and the more pieces I gathered, the more intrigued I became.

Tiny, tan, fast, distressingly hairy, with the undeniable smell of a bird.

A baby ostrich?

Before I knew it, I came face-to-face with the creature’s eyeball.

I was about a meter away, but given that I was going for stealth, it felt too close for any comfort, unimaginably close. The animal was resting in the stern way some animals do: head held up, eyes forward, breathing stiff and steady. Always a fraction of a second away from bolting if the need arose.

Yes! The creature looked just like a little hairy tan ostrich!

Since they were so fast—possibly faster than the robin in flight, based on the brief snippet of dashing I’d seen—I knew I would have to handle this strategically.

Strategically, my mind repeated, mulling it over. So, like…a Leap with a Swipe?

No! I replied to myself.

A Leap with a…Slash?

Is this seriously all I can come up with? After all this time?!

No way! I was better than this—I’d hit my third form, for goodness’ sake!

I was a hunter, and I would use a hunter’s strategies. Since I didn’t know what this foe was capable of, I knew it was smartest to track them. Hunters tweaked their approach based on the prey, based on their needs. If you don’t know the prey, you watch.

Tracking marker applied.

Time remaining: 72 hours

Markers remaining: 1

Good thing there was no SP cost to anything regarding the Map. I could manipulate it far more easily than a human hunter could doodle on their own.

After long seconds of stillness, the little ostrich finally moved. With their wormy neck, they raised their head.

This was concerning. Had I gotten too sucked into watching just this single animal? Were they hearing some commotion I wasn’t?

Then the bird did something I should’ve predicted as soon as I got there. They ran. Going from a standstill (or a sit-still) to top speed in a flash. And when they did it, they ran right into me.

The hairy ostrich bowled me over.

Their frantic legs and sharp little claws kicked into my flesh, got sand on the tongue of my furious open mouth, and then—hurried off. If the bird had been in any way frightened or disturbed by running into a veritable ghost, they hadn’t let that get in the way of fleeing the scene.

Cloak is no longer active.

Oh, come on!

In one sense, this was the perfect time to lose my Cloak—my cover had been blown anyway. But man, wasn’t that just adding insult to injury? Hadn’t I lost enough just now?!

I rolled myself upright, licking the gritty dirt off my fur with a vengeance. Then, realizing my tongue was now covered in dirt, I pawed the sand off my tongue. Then I realized that was a terrible idea, because all of my paws, and indeed every inch of my body, were still way too dirty. Deliriously, I wrung my mouth around a bunch of grass stalks and twisted my skull back and forth around it—just anything to get out this taste of defeat.

I’d apparently forgotten about all that “act like a hunter” stuff. The feeling of failure was frustrating and overwhelming.

In a moment, though, my thoughts came back down to earth. I hadn’t lost. And I’d prepared for this. If anything, I’d gotten my first shot in by sticking a mental tracker onto my prey. I had information on the bird—the bird had nothing on me.

Besides a few negligible points of damage and potentially lasting trauma, but that was hopefully besides the point.

In two moments, though, a different, scarier thought not only brought me down to earth, but wrestled and pinned me.

What was the bird running from?

…Oh gosh, was it the raccoons? No…no, please, not yet! I wasn’t ready for them! I wasn’t high-Levelled enough! What kinds of natural steroids had they gobbled up to have enough confidence to stage a raid on the bulls?! There was a very good reason why I’d told myself to tackle the raccoon tree at Level 30, minimum!

A dark rumble shook the ground. Was that the first sign of a stampede?

“Mra-a-aow!” I cried, raising my head in the air like a howling wolf. I was telling Reed, “Follow me!” After that, I added a low, rambling note that I remembered meant, “High danger!”

“Roger”! I thought with sudden desperation. We forgot to make sounds for “roger”! How would I know if Reed got my message?!

But wasn’t I overreacting? I listened out for a plain-spoken “got it,” or a standard whoop, or something like that. Yet I heard nothing. In fairness, the scene around me changed in a flash, and became far denser with noise.

A couple more tiny ostriches darted past me. Their hearts were surely pounding as frantically as mine, though concealed under their stoic faces and unswerving paths. I was only just now getting to my feet—

As a wave of flame rolled over the grass.

What was this, some sort of seismic quake-inferno? What could possibly be causing it?!

Finally I started running, going in no particular direction besides away.