Beams of sunlight poked through gaps in the light blue curtains and woke June the following morning. Well, sunlight and the sounds of Abraham Lincoln retching next to her head. How did he open the door? Maybe Cordelia had checked on her while she was still sleeping and left it open. June grabbed at him while hissing, “Stop that!”
The moment her hand reached him, he began to purr innocently and put on his most affectionate facial expression.
“You look ridiculous Abraham Lincoln, and I know what you were doing. Didn’t you hear Cordelia telling me I need to hunt live prey now?”
“I liked you better when you were ignorant of my ability to understand you,” Abraham replied. “How can you even joke like that—it’s barbaric. What happened to the sweet little girl who made the best choice of her life to adopt me, and who lived to feed me and pet me?” He stopped to lick a spot on his butt.
“Look where you’re licking! Who’s barbaric now? And for the record, I never lived to feed you and pet you.” June rubbed behind his ear, causing his leg to spasm. “But I do love you. You know I would never eat you. But something bad will happen if you wake me up again by vomiting on my pillow. Something truly torturous, like…a bath!” She scowled playfully.
Abraham Lincoln lifted his chin and stuck his tail straight up in the air. “Who’s been a cat longer here, June? You’ll need me to learn the ins and outs of it. Lesson one: we are the smartest of all animals. Treat us accordingly and things will go well for you.”
On her white bedside table, the alarm clock read 7:30 am. June could smell eggs frying downstairs. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered. She threw open her curtains and felt a burst of energy at the sight. The forest around the house was deep and dense, displaying the rich colors of the changing season: dark greens, light yellows, burnt oranges and deep reds, all encroaching right up to the house. June stood, put her hands and feet firmly on the floor, and arched her back in a deep stretch under the approving gaze of Abraham.
“Very good June, very good—always stretch after sleeping and eating.”
Downstairs, June found Cordelia in the kitchen. Sunlight shone through the windows and reflected off the counter in blinding pools. June saw at least four egg cartons perfectly lined up, and Cordelia systematically cracking eggs over the steel sink like a robot.
“I still need to pig out when I’m in human form too then?” June asked.
“I’m afraid so.” Cordelia didn’t even stop cracking eggs, let alone look at June. “Until you’re proficient at hunting at least. But it’s possible you won’t gain too much weight.”
June slumped at the mention of not gaining “too much weight.” Well, if she was going to balloon like Abraham Lincoln, she might as well enjoy the reason for it.
“Can I please Shift and run in the forest this morning? Please? No one is gonna be out in the woods right now, it’s so early. I’ll be—”
“What about hunters?” Cordelia asked. ”Hunters are up this early.”
“I’ll stop frequently and listen—”
“June—”
“I’ll know everything that’s alive in those woods before any of it knows me, and I’ll—”
“But—”
“I’ll just be a glimpse, a flash, too fast for them to understand.”
Cordelia sighed and studied her. “You can go on two conditions,” she finally said. “First, if you hear or see any sign of humans, you will come back here immediately. Second—”
“What if they’re between me and the house?” June asked.
“Then you can go around them with that speed you were just boasting about and get back here ASAP.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Fine.”
“Second, despite this breakfast, you should hunt and eat something before you get back.”
“Seriously? You’ve got forty-eight eggs there.”
Cordelia washed her hands and turned to face June. She looked intently at her. “There are fifty-four eggs here. You missed the half-carton. And seriously, do you remember our conversation last evening? Hunt and eat before you come back.”
“Alright, fine.” June hoped her voice didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt. She’d never eaten anything raw, at least not on purpose, and she’d certainly never killed anything. It would be far easier to harm people who deserved it rather than an innocent animal. She raced for her room.
*******
As soon as June crossed the threshold of her bedroom, she tore off layers of clothing. As her pink-and-white-striped socks soared through the air, she willed herself to Shift. It happened all at once and before the socks had even landed on her beige carpet. Her monstrous form exploded out of her, and she crouched down so she wouldn't tear a hole in the ceiling.
The floor creaked and groaned under the sudden and dramatic increase in weight. June flexed her hands and admired her claws. They felt sturdy and strong. Pleasure swept through her, and new sounds and smells erupted around her. She practiced focusing on each individually. She could hear the noises emitted by every device in her house—they were shrill and unchanging, just a hum. She could hear Cordelia's movements downstairs, even hear Cordelia’s blood coursing through her veins. June went to her large bay window and fumbled with the latch. She was grateful she still had thumbs after Shifting—the difficulties of navigating a world built for the opposable thumb couldn’t be overstated. But her hands—paws?—were the size of trash can lids.
June leaned onto the window-seat, which made a cracking noise, and pushed the window open, closing her eyes as noises uncountable hit her like a loud and jumbled jet. The sounds threatened to overwhelm her with their blending and blurring, their incomprehensibility. But as June concentrated and listened, order came to the chaos: tens of thousands of leaves and needles rustling in the chilly wind; hundreds of birds flying, chirping, wings fluttering and flapping; squirrels scampering and digging; deer sniffing and grunting; insects humming and buzzing.
Together the sounds formed music, and not just one song, but several, layered in different harmonies, some soaring, some diving. The songs were beautiful, magical, full of life and passion, hope and depth. A whole other world existed right in front of her, a world so beautiful, and she had never known it.
What she did not hear in the forest around her house were noises emitted by cell phones, except for those inside her house. There was no breathing that matched human breathing anywhere close, except Cordelia’s. Convinced there wasn’t another human soul for at least a mile, and likely more, June jumped out of her window. She twisted just right so that her enormous, muscular body didn’t tear apart the window frame. Like a bullet, she entered the world of song and magic.
Exhilaration filled her chest as she soared through the air. She could fly. Her claws sank into the trunk of a large maple as she landed against it. She hung there, twenty feet off the ground, enjoying the feel of the bark under her nails. Then the tree started tipping. Uh oh, she thought, as it reached an angle that made it feel more like surfing. She carefully launched herself to the ground. Only the thickest trees for climbing and jumping, I guess.
All around her branches swayed with the wind in a gentle dance. The sky was clear and a thin blue. She spotted an even larger tree, a white oak, and tried again, soaring back up another twenty feet and latching on with ease. The rush of cold morning air on her face smelled of frost and bark. Shafts of sunlight broke through gaps in the tree canopy, standing on the forest floor like thin, glowing giants.
Finally, she dropped to the ground again and landed with such grace she could have been stepping out of the bathtub. The ground, however, still rumbled under the impact. She paused and her ears rotated: still no sounds of humans. She inhaled the air deeply: so many smells, but none of them from a human. Her tail flicked the air several times like a whip, and then she became a blur.
June marveled at her own ability to sprint through the denseness of the forest and the minefield of underbrush and roots without hitting a thing. She weaved, ducked, and leapt past obstacles. Any bystander in the area would have only glimpsed an immense, dark streak, formless and fast. She dropped to all fours, pushing herself to go faster—faster—faster. Her breath came in quick bursts. But she was not fatigued or even close to her limits—power surged inside her. I can do this all day, she realized with surprise. Ordinarily when June ran, she quickly outpaced her ability to breathe and had to stop. Now there was no outpacing her breath.
While breathing posed no problem moving at these speeds, June was starting to feel a little warm under the fur. Had it been summer she’d be sweating like—well, like a monster.
A smell smacked her in the nose, interrupting her thoughts, and she froze, senses heightened, body tense. A part of her felt…was it excitement? No, this felt more primal, with a sliver of anticipation, and a sharp edge of something darker too. As she wondered, a grin spread across her lips and twisted the corners of her mouth, and she felt the cold air on her fangs. Yes, she was certain now that her Shifted form would find raw meat appetizing. Mouthwatering, in fact. Her stomach rumbled—it wasn’t painful, not yet, just eager. Less than a minute passed, and she was a blur of motion again.