I woke up bleary eyed, with the hint of a hangover pricking at the edge of my consciousness and an odd pressure and warmth on my chest. It took several moments to remember why the ceiling above me was fabric, rather than the usual drywall. Thanks to the inflatable sleeping pad and mummy bag from REI I had slept well at least, minus weird nightmares about antlered creatures stalking the woods and a disturbing afterimage of a supernatural creature resting on my chest. Actually, that feeling is still there, I wonder why…

A quick peak down into my sleeping bag answers that question. A black ball of fluff and fur lays curled up on my chest, quietly snoring away. At the sudden influx of chilly Autumn morning air her nose twitches slightly, but besides that the only movement she made was the gentle rising and falling of her sides. Cats really are adorable, even if this particular one tends to act mouthy. I began to absentmindedly stroke the cute black cat sleeping on my chest as I reflected on the events of the previous night.

First of all, poaching is bad. I know deer are overpopulated in this state, but it’s probably better to avoid committing crimes like this regularly. Crime is bad, mkay? That said, the deer is already dead, so it’s be a shame to let it go to waste. There was a bit more drinking last night after I shot the deer, but most of the remainder of the evening was spent cleaning and processing the deer. It wasn’t a big one, but a buck is a buck. Maybe I’ll get it mounted. Taxidermy isn’t the most chic option for home décor but neither is a gun room. It’s not like I have any friends that visit my place anyways. A bit of tasteful taxidermy should be fine. If my parents ever visit I can always brag to them…

Come to think of it, I haven’t mentioned getting a roommate. Err, wife, I mean. Is it really something I need to tell them? It’s not really any of their business how I’m living my life, right? Besides, I already sent them pictures of Liah. Well, I did back when I mainly just knew her as the stray cat I picked up. Meeting Liah’s parents is unlikely, I’ve been told, with her mom kind of like, spirited away into the fairy world. And her dad being a literal Shakespeare character at that. Introducing her to my family is definitely going to take planning with such a confusing situation for both her parents and our own relationship. Would it be like “Hi mom, hi dad, here’s my psychic half-fairy familiar I use for my witchcraft at my top secret job. She turns into a cat and is currently my wife, for financial reasons.”

It might be a bit before I mention my pet cat-turned-wife to my family, but she was given a cursory introduction yesterday to the rest of the group camping here. They seemed a bit weirded out that I brought my pet cat camping of all things but Doc especially took well to Liah. I was actually pretty jealous. Ever since learning the truth about Daliah, it’s been too awkward to unabashedly pet her like our group’s resident sailor did. Liah definitely took critical damage from it all, being petted and scratched from head to tail, but she really sucks at saying no. Being turned into a cat tends to do that to a girl, since if she had said anything we’d be stuck explaining our magical miracle talking cat of wonder. Maybe like the wisecracking black cat from that Sabrina the Teenage Witch show? But she was given an excess of attention. It didn’t help that Doc was afraid she’d run away if left to her own devices.

So while the rest of the group was focused on butchering the poor unfortunate victim who charged into our camp, Doc firmly insisted on cat-sitting duty, which she carried out wholeheartedly to the annoyance of Liah. And now that they know she’s here, they’ll expect me to bring her out today too. Sorry, but you wont get much of a chance to work on your homework today. You’re gonna be too busy playing the role of “Amy’s pet cat, Chesty.”

She seemed exhausted from all that attention, so much so that she didn’t even unpack a sleeping bag. “It’s too much work, and I didn’t even bother bringing one,” she had said last night. “And my fur should be plenty warm enough anyways.” At the time I had believed her but she must have gotten cold after all, climbing into my sleeping bag like this. It led to some weird-ass dreams though. I’m totally justified getting to pet her at least a little, to make up for that.

I felt Liah stir, lazily, in the sluggish sleepy manner cats often have. It’s probably time to stop with the petting. Really I should be getting up now, with light brightening up the inside of the tent. The hardest part about camping in autumn is working up the energy to leave the warm, safe cocoon of the sleeping bag and venture out into the morning chill. I could hear the muffled clinking of pans from around the campfire, the shuffling about of tired, hung-over campers getting prepared for a day of woodsy fun, but I was just too relaxed to get up and join them.

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The cat-size lump on my chest began to shift, causing the poly fabric to undulate. A muffled “mrow” leaks out as Liah stretches.

Morning she says, the very thought dripping with the fervent wish for a few hours more of sleep.

Good morning. Did you get cold?

‘s nicer in here…warm

True...I replied. But I have to face reality. I have work today. And as warm and comfortable as my sleeping bad is, my tent is rather lacking in food and coffee.

Liah let out another “mrowl” as I unzipped the bag, before fleeing deeper inside. Lazy cat.

Five more minutes… she bargained

Fine, I have to get dressed anyway. But after what you said last night, it’d be better to stay together for today.

I didn’t know it was possible to think incoherent grumbling at someone. She hadn’t come across as being so bad at dealing with mornings previously, so whats up with her today?

Tired… not used to being petted like that.

But I used to pet you like that all the time! Before, uh, you know.

That’s different. It’s one thing if its you, but some random woman I’ve never even met before putting her paws all over… she even tried scratching my belly. Ugh.

But you seemed to like it when I… we’ve gotten off topic. Is that creature you were warning about still around?

It is, but it’s a good distance further away than it was last night. It probably wont try anything during the day. These things are always more active at night. It’s just part of their nature, same as most other supernatural creatures. Spirits, Demons, witches...all those things prefer to work at night.

You certainly don’t. And isn’t it a bit unfair grouping me together with demons and weird spooky woods monsters that eat people?

You’re plenty weird in your own way, and I know you’re prone to the kind of pettiness a poltergeist or demon would pull off. But no, you aren’t as nasty as that creature hiding out in the forest. As long as this group stays together it should be safe during the day. Nighttime will be a different story. Enough of that though. What about your main mission?

I’ve seen none of the sketchy behavior I was sent to look out for, and if I did I wouldn’t report it anyways.

What about Doc? Machine guns is pretty sketchy. She thought, making accusation she knew weren’t valid.

I already explained those are legal. You’re just still sore over yesterday and… is that jealousy I’m sensing?

Don’t you think that Smith guy seems a bit suspicious? Liah deflected.

He’s just a bit awkward. Maybe he has a touch of Aspergers or something, but that’s hardly a crime.

I dunno, something feels off about him. That Jeff guy too. He seemed a bit too keyed up last night.

Did you remember the part where he was an army sniper? I came running out of my tent grabbing for a gun? If anything he was a bit too relaxed.

It just seems like the two of them, and that Gabriel guy, are all very suspect. Maybe they’re trying to recruit for their militia or something. But they definitely were on edge yesterday, and not just because of you killing Bambi’s mother.

Father. That was a buck.

It’s the 21st century, don’t be so close-minded. Next we’ll find out you’re a homophobe. She continued, a teasing tone in her voi- thoughts.

At least your sense of humor is waking up.

Kind of. If only I had a kindhearted wife to bring me coffee in bed...

Yeah, no, you’re gonna have to get it yourself.

Where’s the romance in that?

Where’s the romance in you burying your face deep in my sleeping bag? That just seems perverted. Do you have some sort of weird fetish like that? You better not be sniffing anything.

But it’s warm and comfy here… “mrow” she yelped as I dumped my sleeping bag into my lap. A startled cat fell out followed by a change of clothes; sleeping with clothes in the bag helps warm them up so you aren’t stuck putting on ice-cold garments in the morning.

That was rude!

Do you want head scratches to make it all better? And I thought you would always land on your feet.

You surprised me!

Hold still a bit I said, as I reached down to pet her. Despite her annoyance at being unceremoniously dumped in my lap, she raised her head into the scratching. The warmth of the fur felt luxurious against the bite of the October air.

Uh, Amy?

Yes?

Why aren’t you wearing a shirt or pants?

Wearing extra layers makes the sleeping bag work less efficiently. Everyone knows that.

…

What?

Get dressed! And stop flaunting those...things… at me!

Bewildered, I slowly began to outfit myself for the day.