Sometimes, the world went quiet.

Not just of people. Not just during that few moments' right after the fireplaces died out, and the popping and crackling stopped...

It was also when the world itself went silent.

The wind stopped eerily, as if it had never blown before. The snow that was falling lightly did so with such ease one didn't even notice when it landed on you.

There were no voices lingering in the distance. No dogs barking, or creaking of wood and stone...

It was almost as if the world had decided to stand still.

Not even the forest ever got this quiet.

I sat on the balcony often. Sometimes multiple times a day. I enjoyed these moments. I liked how I could sit and be alone, even in this massive city. Thanks to the lack of similar balconies nearby, I was out of sight here.

Usually I could sit here and listen to the houses nearby. The conversations of the people living across the street. The businesses to the left and right of us. The creaking of carts, and the clacking of horse's hooves as they pulled them.

Yet today it was quiet. Silent. Eerily so. Not even the birds were chirping.

How was it that a town of humans, some of the loudest creatures to exist, could become quieter than anything else?

And how come it was only for a brief few moments? And randomly?

I'd understand if maybe the humans had an agreement. Like, the few moments during the dawn, but it was purely coincidental. Unplanned. Unheard, too.

Did anyone else ever notice these moments?

I released a small breath, and noticed a faint haze. The world was cold, but not freezing. Not so cold that it should stop people from coming outside... yet...

On this balcony, I could sit without hiding my ears and tail. Yet at the same time, I knew soon I'd return inside. No matter how safe it could be, I still had the instinctual fear of being seen.

Not so much for my own safety, but the safety of everyone else. I'd hate the idea of being the cause of ruining this precious place.

Looking down at my hands, I noticed the way my nails were a little more pointed than usual. I needed to clip them. Most humans wouldn't notice right away, but if I didn't keep an eye on their length then...

“At least they're not claws,” I said softly. My grandmother had not just paws like my uncle, but claws too.

She would not have been able to fit in and hide as we did. Even if she hadn't hated humans as fiercely as she had.

Lomi had no tail, and I couldn't remember any other features upon her. Only her ears and eyes had been... non-human in appearance.

Crane had feathers, but hid them beneath gowns and dresses. Lughes had his beard, but it was similar enough to an old man's raggedy unkempt one that he didn't need to shave it.

I had unique ears and a long tail... my eyes were a little odd, but not enough to draw attention... My nails became pointed if I let them grow freely...

Tapping my palm with my nails, I wondered how many generations it would take for my bloodline to become entirely human. A single one? Dozens? Would they lose their tail first, like Lomi, or would their ears be the first to go?

What dictated the loss of our features? When we mated with humans? Or was it just natural? As far as I was aware, the last few generations of my bloodline were all of the same kind. All of us had been cats.

Yet I was nothing like my grandparents. And their parents had been even more beast-like.

Did that mean it wasn't just decided by our parents, but something else? Was it the food? Something in the air?

What if all humans were just... descendants of us? Our kind? From long ago?

I had been spending a lot of time in that storage room, looking at all of those paintings... and one thing I could tell, was most of our kind were similar to me. Human in appearance, with only a few animalistic parts to them. Usually it was their ears, or a tail. Occasionally there was one with a horn sticking out of their head, like antlers, or patches of scales on their skin. There had only been a handful of paintings I'd found so far of people that looked more animal than human.

Though that might simply be because only those who looked human ever came to be painted. Those who were more animal than not, like my grandparents, had probably despised human just like them... Just like my parents and...

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A distant shout echoed through the air, and I realized that the silence was gone.

I now heard birds. People off in the distance. Voices. A horse neighed nearby.

The world was awake again.

Releasing another small sigh, I noticed the lack of haze from my breath. Had the world gotten warmer too?

The sun loomed overhead, but there were grey clouds blocking it. The snow falling from them was light, and scattered. It looked as if at any moment the snow would stop.

Something scrapped stone nearby, and my ears tilted at the sound. It was an unusual sound. One I rarely heard out here.

Had something fallen? It had almost sounded like a large claw scraping stone.

A loud cough, which made my eyes narrow, echoed down the street. Something about it was...

Then I heard footsteps. Heavy ones. Ones that slipped as much as ran. I heard the crunch of snow, and the ice beneath. I heard the feet misstep, and another cough because of it.

Someone was running. Towards our street. From the corner nearby.

A child maybe?

The footsteps I heard earlier became louder... then I heard the sound of someone falling. Tripping.

Sitting up, I noticed the figure down the road. Near the corner. I tried not to peer out too far, lest I got seen, but...

Slowly standing, I felt an odd sense of unease. A person falling in this cold, at this hour, wasn't that strange. There were drunks here. More than not... yet...

That was no drunken sailor or vagabond. Far too small. Too skinny.

And her dark figure wasn't just because of her jacket.

“Amber!”

Clambering up over the ledge of the balcony, I didn't even check to see if there was anyone else nearby. I didn't care if anyone noticed or saw, as I leapt off the balcony to the street below.

I landed a little less gracefully than I should have, and I blamed the snow... but there wasn't much of it on the ground. My heart thumped loudly in my ears as I smelled not just Amber, but blood.

Rushing forward along the street, I skidded to my knees next to her, and quickly began to smell more than just blood.

“Amber...” I groaned, and hefted her head a little. To see if she was awake or not.

She wasn't.

Hurrying, I took her into my arms and stood. Hefting her was easy. She wasn't much bigger than I, even though she felt heavy for some reason.

With her in my arms, I felt the seep of blood. Warm yet cold. The feeling of it made me panic, as I turned quickly back towards our home.

“Hurry!” Crane stood at the door, holding it open. She must have heard my scream, or had smelled the...

Don't think it.

It didn't take me long to get Amber into the Sleepy Artist. “The kitchen, Renn. We'll need to clean her wounds,” Crane said hurriedly, before I even asked where I should take her.

Yes. That made sense.

“Oh no!” Lughes cried out as I passed him, he had been descending the stairs, and had fallen to his butt as we went by.

Being careful to not knock Amber's head or feet against the doorways, I hurried to the large kitchen table. The one we used to prepare food.

There were bowls, and plates littering it. With unprepared food. Crane had started preparing our dinner, there was even a hastily discarded knife on the ground.

Crane didn't even hesitate to knock them all off the table's surface. They clanged loudly and a plate broke as I laid Amber on the table.

“Oh no!” Lughes entered the kitchen, crying out as he hurried to the table.

“She collapsed near the corner,” I said, and noticed the stains of blood on my sleeves.

She was bleeding badly. Real bad.

“Amber!” Crane went straight to holding Amber's head, and I noticed the way she opened Amber's eyes. She hadn't done so gently.

Yet Amber didn't even flinch. Her pupils were up, half hidden, as if in a deep sleep.

“She's breathing. She's breathing,” Lughes reached out to start undressing her. Pulling off the torn cloak, and revealing her clothes. Oddly her clothes looked untouched. No tears. No rips. Yet...

They were soaked. Soaked with blood.

“Why?” I groaned as I went to helping Lughes get the clothes off her. To see what was wrong. To see the truth and...

My stomach went into knots, and even Crane and Lughes paused for a moment as we finally saw what the clothes hid.

“Lughes...” Crane made a weird sound, but the source was from her grief. It almost sounded like a sad squawk.

“We need to clean them. Then... then...” Lughes hesitated, and then glanced to the nearby fireplace. It wasn't lit. Crane had been preparing our dinner, but hadn't started cooking it yet.

“Get that lit. We need boiled water and bandages. We'll need to cauterize a few of them,” Lughes said firmly. Somehow, suddenly, he wasn't meek anymore.

I nodded and went to the fireplace first. Before Crane could. I didn't know enough else on how to help, so I'd leave Amber to them for now.

After all, what could I do?

Quickly fumbling with the wood and tinder, I dared one small glance behind me. To the young girl on the table, covered in deep gashes.

Crane and Lughes were staring silently at each other. And I didn't need to hear their thoughts to know what they also saw. What they also smelled.

Amber looked asleep. Her face wasn't even contorted in pain. If not for the sight of chill on her face, you'd think there was nothing wrong with her. She didn't even twitch in pain or...

Looking away from the young girl, I took a deep breath in. Not to smell the match I just lit. Not to smell her blood. Not to smell the desperation in the air...

But to take hold of the scent that was wrapped around her.

It belonged to someone. I didn't know who. I didn't recognize it.

I didn't know where they were.

But I'd find them.

I'd find them.