She’s wearing her nightgown, housecoat, and slippers, and her face is covered in hellfire.

Oh, no wait, that’s just rage.

In my defence, she has the same eye mutation as me, or I guess I have the same one as her. And when she’s mad, her eyes look like actual balls of fire.

“Oh…hey…mom… what are you doing out here?”

Uh oh. Her left eye twitched. That’s never good.

“What am I doing out here? What are you doing out here!?”

Aaaand she’s shouting. That’s really not good. What if she agitates the cougar?

“Mom, shush.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said shush, there’s a cougar right-” But of course, when I turn to point it out to her its gone. Mom must have scared it away. Smart cat. Wish I could disappear.

“I don’t see anything.”

“It’s gone now, but I swear to god it was right over there. Across the lake.”

Mom shakes her head. She’s shivering and looks annoyed. That’s fair. “There are no cougars around here. Never have been. You obviously saw-”

Aaand my trigger has been pulled.

“What? Why don’t you tell me yet again what it is I’m seeing with my own eyes?”

My tone is a bit harsh. But that warmth has disappeared with the cat, and the cold is back. And you know how I get when I’m cold. I really can’t be blamed. Not to mention this resentment has been building for a while now.

“Don’t you start on about that again. You’re supposed to be grounded.” She pauses. “Forever!” She stresses all three syllables.

“I know, but I had to see-”

“See what? What could possibly be so important that you had to-” Her gaze moves past me and judging by the increased anger to calm ratio on her face she’s seen the doe.

“What. The hell. Is that thing?”

“It’s a doe.”

“Yes. I can see that.”

“Well, it’s dead and I-”

If we were in a cartoon smoke would be coming out of her ears. “Yes, I can see that it’s dead. What I don’t see is any logical explanation for you to be here with it.” The words are almost spat out.

This is not going well. If she’d just let me get a proper word in…

“I saw a cougar kill that doe. I followed it here to prove it.”

“Setting the stupidity of messing with a cougar’s food stash aside, assuming that’s even what it was, why did you need to prove something like that?”

Now I’m getting pissed off. “You should know. I’ve only been trying to prove the craziness of this city to you for almost three years. I know you still don’t believe me, but this town is illegal, and it’s dangerous, and it can’t be denied now. No, I won’t let you try and make me deny these things anymore.”

“I thought you’d let that go.” She sighs, shakes her head, and pinches between her brows.

“I did, when you all got together and convinced me I was insane.”

“I never said-”

“But I can’t deny the truth anymore. This whole town is crazy, and it’s not safe.”

“What is so crazy about cougars killing deer!?”

“The cougar that was just here, the one that killed that deer, I didn’t see it outside my window or anything, mom.” I take a big breath. “I saw it in my dream last night.”

“You saw it in your dream.” Neutral tone. She’s unimpressed with the whole thing. I know her, I can tell.

“Not just saw. In my dream I was the cougar. I did this.” I wave my hand at the corpse.

“You did not do this-”

“Yes, I did. I tracked it for hours!”

“It was a dream.”

“A real dream. It’s been happening for weeks now.”

“Dreams aren’t real, that’s why they’re called dreams.”

“Then how do you explain the wounds being the same as in my dream? That it was killed right where I did it in my dream?”

I’m losing her. Well, not really, I never had her in the first place. None of my words ever reach her anymore. I’m sick of it. How can she deny this?

“You do our laundry, haven’t you noticed the grass stains and dirt all over my PJ’s? You didn’t think maybe something was going on? When my mind is inside the cougar, my body-”

“Just stop!”

I don’t want to but judging by her attitude this conversation is over before it even started.

“Yeah, I have noticed. And I know you haven’t been hanging out with your regular friends either. They’ve been asking about you, why you’re always ‘busy’” She makes quotes with her fingers. “I just thought you were drinking again. Even out here.”

“Jesus mom, I only went to two parties. I barely drank anything either. I’m not an alcoholic.”

My voice breaks at the end and a burning building briefly fills my mind. It’s dark. There’s the sound of gushing water somewhere far away from me. Muffled shouts. A not so muffled scream. Flashing red and blue lights. A lawn covered with stretchers, some with white blankets obscuring the people underneath. But one of them has a pair of black and green sneakers I recognize. I’ll never forgot those shoes. Smoke fills my lungs and I start trembling. I can’t breathe.

“Yeah, and what happened at the second one? Do you remember that?”

I bring myself back. Air replaces smoke when I force a breath.

Of course I remember. Only a monster could forget that. Honestly, with all this strangeness around me, that memory is what helps me believe I’m still human.

“That wasn’t my fault. I was just there.”

It wasn’t. It was a terrible accident. I can’t believe she’s even bringing that up. It’s not fair. She knows what that does to me. I also can’t believe she thought I’d ever do anything like that again after what happened. Frankly, it’s insulting.

No, worse than that. Whatever is worse than that…

“It’s not your fault, but it happened. You shouldn’t have even been there, but you were there, drinking and doing drugs, and then people got hurt-”

“That’s not what’s happening here.”

Also, pot is barely a drug. You’d think I was addicted to meth or something the way she’s talking. I mean I know its still bad and all, but seriously. I tried it one time and hated it. Besides, it’s even legal now.

“Maybe not, but I almost wish it was, because then at least I’d know what’s going on and how to fix it.”

“I don’t need fixing. And I think I’ve been clear about what’s going on. You just won’t listen to me.”

She shakes her head again. She’s done.

“We’re going back.”

“Mom-”

“End of discussion.”

Wait, the photo! I took a photo of the cougar, didn’t I? It’s tough getting to it with my cold, shaking hands, but I manage.

A chill that has nothing to do with the snow glides down my back.

I don’t understand. What the hell is this?

If I was shaking before, I’m even more so now. If I didn’t have my phone in a death grip it would have been lost in the snow.

Where is it? The shot is perfectly clear, the aim was perfect, everything is right, the lake and the tree are all exactly where they should be.

Except the cougar isn’t there.

That’s the spot it was standing when I took the picture, there’s no denying that. But the cougar that was there, that I know was there, is not in the picture.

I flip back and the pictures of the doe are fine, perfect even, not blurry at all. Everything about the cougar picture was good too, it was a good shot, but the target is missing. It was there, I know it was. But it’s not in the photo.

It also somehow disappeared way too fast when mom arrived. Did it teleport? Is that possible? Is it like a vampire thing, where they don’t show up in mirrors or pictures? Can only I see it? Is it still there, watching us, and just invisible? What is going on-

“Don’t fall behind. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

My mom’s sharp voice brings me out of my panic. At least enough for me to stumble forward. I follow her but my steps are slow and heavy. My heart is pounding. Whether it’s from anxiety or anger I don’t know. Let’s go with both. Both is good.

It’s a silent walk home because both of us are seething.

We weren’t always like this, you know. We used to be inseparable. If you can believe it, seeing us now. A single mom and only child who went on awesome adventures in so many awesome places. Then I made one wrong move and she decided the best thing for us was to come back here.

And everything went to shit.

When we first moved here, and I first started noticing the strangeness of this city, I felt pity that she could not, or refused to, see the truth around her.

I don’t feel anything now except annoyance at her willful ignorance.

I know she’s upset, but it’s impossible to care when she’s doing it to herself. If she would just open her eyes…

After a long, cold, and quiet trek back I kick off my shoes and head for my tower.

“Kara, wait.”

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

I don’t. I keep walking.

“I’ve made an appointment.”

So that’s what you were doing on the way back instead of talking to your daughter.

“I’m very happy for you.”

She ignores my quip. “You should see Doctor Grady again.”

Yeah right. I’m not seeing a psychiatrist ever again. Over my dead body.

“I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. After your shift I’m picking you up and-”

“And then you’re taking me right back here.”

“Kara-”

“Or you can bring me to The Overhang, and I’ll rent a room. Your choice. End of discussion.”

I think she has something to say to that, my tone was not respectful at all, but I slam my door. Peace at last.

Falling onto my bed I let out a groan. I hate this. I wish we’d never come to this stupid place. I want things to go back to how they were before. Why did she have to move us here of all places? After the incident we still had an entire country left to explore. Fuck that, an entire world. We could have gone anywhere. If she liked this place so damn much, then why leave it in the first place?

Fifteen pounds of fur lands on my back and pulls me out of my thoughts.

“By god, Chonky-Tonks.” I cough out my words. “Are you trying to kill me?” I shove him off and push myself up. A little mean I guess, but he’s too hungry to notice and I’m too shaken to care. He paws at my back like he often does, but I flinch when it reminds me of the cougar’s soft pads.

Similar shape, just smaller and much less deadly. In most cases.

I pick him up and set him on my lap and he boops my chin. “What do you think, hm?” I give his head a good scratch. “Am I crazy or am I right?”

I don’t know if his meow means yes or no. In his case, it probably just means he wants breakfast.

“Want to go eat, chonky boy?”

Okay, that one was a yes.

Mom has left for work by the time I get downstairs, and I’m grateful.

My Prince’s kibble makes the usual metal racket as I pour it out before grabbing some cheerios for myself and sitting in front of the T.V.

Ugh. Bad move. The current broadcast makes my skin crawl. At the bottom of the screen it says, ‘Ashvale Finance Minister Mr. Aeric Spencer Predicts Positive Upswing for Economy,’ so I mute it.

That Spencer…I see his face a lot on the news. Even more often than our Mayor’s. I don’t even remember her name, to be honest. Or what she looks like. I always get a strange feeling when I see him, even through the T.V. After my freaky experience with the Monk of the Round Table that Jordan was all chummy with, I have a new benchmark for Shifter power levels.

The fact that I can sense this guy’s power through a television means he’s incredibly powerful, probably on par with that creepy monk. I’m like 95% certain, but I’ve never met the guy in person to verify.

Our precious town treasurer is part of the seemingly large, and elite group of people who reside in center town. The people living in Lower Ashvale, like my mom and I, seem to be normal. Seem to be. But I know they’re just weaker Shifters. They still give off slight readings if I focus enough.

Despite Upper Ashvale being smaller, the population density is higher, typical of downtown areas, and it has the same number of people as the entirety of Lower Ashvale. But like I said before, there’s something off about the uptown folks. They’re all rich, all good-looking so far as I can tell, and they all stay in their little valley. People from Lower Ashvale visit over there, or pass through to visit Ashwood, but people from center town do not leave. I’ve never seen them in the lower valley, and I’ve never seen them in the reserve either.

To be fair I haven’t seen many of them at all because I don’t go to that part of town very often, only to visit Mom at work, and sometimes Nana. But the times I have seen them, it’s been in uptown.

The buildings are all fancy, the lawns are all perfectly manicured, like more than Ashvale’s usual, and the people there are rude. And the people there are strange. But like everything else that’s weird about this city, I’m the only one who seems to notice.

Once my cereal has reached an optimal soft to crunchy ratio, I dig in. This is also when His Highness hops onto my lap, circles three times, and then plops himself down.

Oof, he needs a stricter diet.

Next on Ashvale’s Morning News Hour? Stonecreek Preschool and their bake sale. Lovely. I keep it on mute and roll my eyes at all the rich brats stuffing their faces with cupcakes until a breaking news segment starts.

It immediately has my interest.

“Attention Ashvale residents, we have been asked by the local rangers to remain vigilant after numerous reports of a cougar have been filed in the last few hours.”

Well, at least Mom can’t say I imagined the cougar now, even if she denies everything else about it.

“This cougar is easily identified by its unique black stripe.”

Huh. Right again. That stripe wasn’t normal after all. I wonder how many times I have to be right until people will start listening to me.

“It is noted to have escaped from the Calgary Zoo three weeks ago. Being a star attraction of the zoo, hunters and other citizenry are asked to refrain from shooting the animal unless absolutely necessary. The Ash Forest Rangers hope to be able to recapture it and return it to the Zoo safely.”

There’s am accompanying photo of the cougar in its original zoo exhibit. Those amber eyes are staring right into the camera, seemingly right into my soul. Ah, got another chill. Why does that picture feel so familiar to me? I know I’ve seen that cat before with my dreams, but this is different… maybe it’s the zoo? Yeah, we must have visited the zoo years ago when we lived in Calgary. That must be it.

Ah? So I’ve seen this thing before? Is that important? Nah. Not all coincidences mean something. That’s rule one of detective work.

“Caution should be observed by the residents of Southclaire, it’s last known location. Wildlife experts from the Calgary area have said this cougar has displayed erratic behaviour in the past and is known to be very volatile.”

“Please report any further sightings to your local police station or call the Ash Forest Rangers by the number on the screen. Reports can also be filed through their official website. Thank-you for your cooperation.”

Whatever. I wonder if they’ll capture the thing soon. Maybe then my dreams will stop. Southclaire is our neighborhood so they know it’s around here. I might not even have to do anything.

Man, wouldn’t that be nice and simple and definitely not likely to happen? I roll my eyes at the dumb thought. Like I’d be so lucky.

I have to fight the sudden urge to text Chayla about the big cat. She loves animals. But that’s impossible now. I’m a lone ranger, a Scooby gang would only slow me down. They’re all just dead weight at this point.

Instead, I listen to the news team go on and on about cookies and toddlers for another few minutes before deciding enough brain cells have died this morning and I should probably kill the rest of them at work. I grab my purse off the table and run out the door. It’s almost 11AM. If I miss the bus I’m hooped. The 194 is the only one that travels up to this plateau.

Remember when I said it was cold enough to make a person cough? Ahem. I think I need a moment. Damn, I should have taken a lozenge with me.

The air is still cold and dry despite the sun being up for a while now, but we don’t get much actual sun to begin with. Ashvale is in a large and deep valley created by the Canadian Rockies after all. The mountains are tall, as they tend to be, and they block a lot of the sun for the better part of each day.

On the other side of these mountains? Unmaintained wildlands, swampy areas with quicksand, the thick Ash Tree Forest which is also a national park that you can’t find information about online, and more treacherous places. Like the Bear Wildlife Reserve; a large and dense bear population lives there. Only the Rangers can safely enter that place, so it’s a forbidden area similar to the Trench.

That’s why there’s only one road out and in. It would be suicide to try and leave any other way. I might end up having to give it a gamble though, depending on how things turn out. My best bet would probably be bear spray and leaving along the inner border of the bear reserve. No one would think to look there, and what would be the chances of a ton of bears being right at the border, anyway?

Well, it’s a working theory. No hard plans yet.

I pull gloves out of my bag and hurry down the street. You can see the bus stop from here, but I need to cross three avenues to get there. To make sure I don’t miss it I glance behind me frequently.

Buses don’t come all the way out here very often, and it’s a long walk to work if I miss it. Southclaire is high up the, obviously, southern most mountain. My work is down the mountain at the start of the actual valley, but far enough west to be almost at the entrance to center town.

A little close for comfort, but I manage.

When I get to the stop, I grab some change from my wallet and drop it into the homeless man’s hat. I don’t know his name or anything but he’s there every time I am, so I usually give him a quarter or two. I see him around other stops too. He gets around. Not giving him something would be awkward since I see him so often, right? Plus, I’m not completely heartless.

He’s an older, maybe mid-thirties, Blackfoot man, or Siksika, with streaks of chestnut and bits of white in his braided, mostly black hair. Both braids are thick and long, but I guess his lifestyle cause him to start going white early.

And I can tell his tribe by the sigil tattooed on his arm. Among other tats. I’m not just guessing, Jordan taught me all the sigils. I don’t know if Sapiens Aboriginals have them. The connection between Homo Sapiens and Mutant cultures is often a grey area. Some Mutant nations don’t like to acknowledge the Wisemen and Wisewomen that evolved within the same area.

As for Jordan, he is Nakota, or Stone Sioux, or even Assiniboine. Their family prefers outsiders to use Nakota, so I do. And hey, it’s shorter. He also has long black hair, but he wears it mostly loose. Sometimes with small black feathers tied to the ends of a singular, thin braid.

While the elitist uptown folks don’t ever foray outside of their little HOA Hamlet, there are usually a lot of indigenous peoples around town. The Ashwood Reservation isn’t Band or Nation specific, with people from various Bands and Nations all living together. However, Blackfoot and Nakota make up the majority, with Cree being a close third.

I’ve only been there a few times, but I wish we’d moved there instead. It’s different from the reserves you hear about on the news, it’s more like an additional small town. There’s always something cool going on. That’s where Jordan and his grandmother live, too. His parents supposedly live there too but they haven’t returned for a few years now so I haven’t ever met them. They write him lots of letters, though.

Fuck, why am I thinking about him? It’s all this broke guy’s fault. I won’t be able to work if I’m upset, damn it. Then again, I’m already freaked out, so what more harm could a pity party cause?

I feel a pit form in my stomach as I give the man a polite smile to make up for getting lost in my thoughts and not staring too much. Way to make people uncomfortable, Kara. Get it together.

Hm? He seems a bit different today, more tired. Then again, I probably don’t look much better. Maybe a lot of people had sleep issues last night. His stare is kinda intense too. Is he getting back at me for staring before? I’m getting a weird feeling.

“Thanks. You just made it.” He points with a shaky hand down the street and sure enough the bus is in the distance now.

“Yeah. Thank goodness.”

Still staring. Is there something in my teeth? I lick them subconsciously. Nope. What’s his deal?

“I don’t usually see you here on Saturdays.”

“I got called in to work. Last minute thing. My luck, eh?” I hate small talk. And strangers. He doesn’t usually talk this much. He usually just gives me a nod, sometimes a smile. Something feels off.

He gives a light smile at this, and then looks more serious. “You look pretty tired.”

“I didn’t sleep well.” You don’t look so hot yourself, old man. Humph, he’s usually friendly, if a bit quiet.

“Maybe you should stay home today, ah?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I have work, so…” Never mind, sweet of him to care. I think? I don’t really know what’s going on here. Why is the pit in my stomach getting heavier?

To distract myself I turn and dig for my passbook in my purse, but it isn’t in the pocket I always leave it in. “What the…” I fish through the rest of it but it’s nowhere in there. I look around on the ground, but I didn’t drop it either. Oh shit, are you serious? I lost it? No, but I moved it from my backpack last night, how could I have lost it?

“Miss.” The man is pointing again, this time at me. “Your pocket.”

“My what…” I look down and sure enough there’s a corner of my passbook sticking out of my sweater. I didn’t put in there. I don’t remember putting it there. Did I do that last night? I took the bus again? I thought I was mostly in the woods all this time. Where have I been going? I took the bus? What the heck?

“It’s here.”

I’m still freaking out when the bus stops in front of me.

My stomach hurts.

“You sure you’re alright? I think your boss would understand if you called in sick.”

Wow, so now I look ill to you? Fuck off. And no offence sir, but that attitude could be part of the reason I need to give you my change every day.

He randomly smiles at me again.

Why am I so unsettled? He’s a harmless homeless guy I see almost every day. Wait, why do I see him every day? Don’t most homeless people have a set radius they operate in? That’s how it was in the other big cities we lived in. And it’s not like I’m hanging out in the same places all the time, yet he’s somehow usually there at some point. Huh. How did I not notice this before?

He has no Spirit Energy.

All Mutants and Beasts, Sapient and Non-Sapient alike, have Spirit Energy. It’s what separates them from Normals. That energy is what Sensitives like me use to identify them.

I never checked him out before, because why would I? Sensing makes me feel sick, so I only do it for interrogation purposes, unless it triggers itself, and I never felt the need to investigate this man.

No wait, but why didn’t I probe him? I’ve tested every other person I’ve been in contact with more than a few times. I even tested my own mother. I see this guy at least every other day but not once did I check him?

Everyone in this city is a Shifter- or some type of Spirit Being, I won’t be prejudiced- with the only difference being in the power level. With some people having so little it takes effort to sense it, and other people like that stupid Spencer having a Spirit Energy presence through a television screen. Or that Evil Wizard, but let’s not think about that guy. My head hurts when I do.

Point is, everyone else has something. But this guy has nothing. That’s suspicious. Even more suspicious is that he somehow got me to gloss over that fact every time we met. For years. Just who is he?

In most movies or TV shows, guys like this are usually more terrifying that the guys who make it obvious, like our dear treasurer and that Monk-ey. Ah fuck don’t think about that. Isn’t he just a homeless guy? Maybe he’s trying to protect himself. It can be tough making it on the streets.

But it doesn’t sit well with me and I’m getting a stomach-ache.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

I’m lying. I’m officially freaked out. Disappearing cougars, nights I can’t remember, this homeless guy suddenly acting all familiar with me… but it’s hard to be angry at him when the look on his face is so genuinely concerned. The problem is he shouldn’t be. You don’t even know me. And you’re not my mom.

So I get on the bus quickly.

Jeez, he’s making me feel worried for no reason. I have this feeling in my gut now that’s telling me to stay home. This is silly. I’m awake, so I’m safe now.

I plunk myself down at the front. It’s empty so I don’t care. If six old people happen to get on, then I’ll move. The bus jerks forward, then continues smoothly, winding down the mountain at what feels like warp speed. Just like every day. Everything is normal.

Except for the strange man, who continued to watch the bus until we could no longer be seen.

That is definitely not normal.

Maybe I should have stayed home today…