(THE ORDER OF THE CHAPTER SECTIONS GOT MESSED UP -- PLEASE READ CHPT. 6 - 2 BEFORE THIS ONE! ALL APOLOGIES FOR THE INCONVENIENCE <3) 

Any previous mouthings of a word came to a sudden, grinding halt as the truck came to a similar stop in front of the farm. Everything seemed to whirlwind slowly, blurrily, like looking through a tunnel as the man slid down his window and glared straight into each of the animals’ souls, the direct eye contact sending chills down Micheala’s back.

And there, from the space Micheala spied, she could see the curve of the boy’s young face. He was younger than Jade, but not a baby in any way – and his face was dirtied, plastered with mud and scarred from acne. His disheveled red hair was matted and greasy, and then shoved messily behind a black cap hat. But the most intimidating aspect was his cold, sharp amber eyes, glowing like burning embers in the heat of the sun.

In one quick motion he drew a gun, cocked it, shot a blank at the two, and drove away with squeaking tires and a hurricane of spat swears.

Within moments, he was gone.

“Lazy asshole,” Stella said, and Micheala laughed nervously – but her eyes still traced after the hint of dusty smoke.

Oh my god. Oh my god! I could’ve – I could’ve died!

Something in the tabby’s throat clamped shut tight as her mouth swung open, trying to squeeze something out but she couldn’t – she couldn’t, and the pup – oh my god, he’s going home to the pup! And Micheala had failed to save the pup, to save her from doom or hurt or abuse and, and and AND –

“Micheala…? Are you –”

“I HAVE TO GO BACK AND SAVE THE PUP!” Micheala cried out, suddenly and sharply and oh, oh no, oh no no no. She avoided Stella’s confused gaze as she squeezed her eyes shut, dreading and hating and loathing as hot tears warmed the crest of her eyes. Oh, how she wished to disappear, or turn to ash on the spot. (I wish – I wish he shot me, I wish I saved the pup I wish I didn’t embarrass my friends, oh –)

“I’m sorry,” Micheala said, her voice shaking and timid. “I-I’m sorry – I’ll, I’ll go I don’t… don’t…”

“Micheala,” Stella said suddenly, her voice steadier than expected. She got up and gave the tabby a nudge, seating herself across from the she-cat and peering into the tiny burrow she’d made delicately inside of the browned bush. “I… Look, I’ve noticed you’ve been nervous lately.”

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry if I let you down.” Oh, how Micheala wanted to run and disappear, and how she refused to open her eyes and hated how she was grounded in place, unable to move.

“Micheala – Mich. You never let me down,” the she-dog began again, her voice oddly gentle. “You’re… a good person. And if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’m always here – you’re my friend, y’know.” Then she breathed in, deep and heavy. “I’m not gonna leave you behind, Mich. I’m here for you, and I mean that. For real.”

“Th… thank you, Stella, thank you,” Micheala mumbled softly, the embarrassment and fear melting from her pelt like stripped layers, fading into the dark. Something in her heart felt suddenly so relieved, so happy and tender and glad to be alive, all of a sudden. She sniffed, and pried open her eyes. “You’re… you’re one of my best friends, thank you – I-I love you.”

Stella laughed awkwardly. “C’mon, Mich, let’s go – alright?” She perked her ears and swiveled her head, staring back behind. “Tom’s at the door – he looks all worried. He must’ve heard the gunshot.”

“Oh – is he okay?” Micheala said, propping her head out.

“He’s fine,” Stella mumbled. “Hey, I’ll see you later Mich, ‘kay?”

The tabby’s ears perked. “Oh – alright…! Thank you so much again, I’ll see you later!” From the corner of her eye, she watched as Stella turned and trotted mildly away. Slowly, her vision focused back to herself and she wriggled out of the bush.

But even with Tom at the door – a smile curling his lips as he watched the tabby – there was… something else eating away at the back of Micheala’s head. With a newfound sense of courage, of relief and joy, she turned her head back around, staring daggers into the forest behind.

Piss off. She thought boldly and suddenly, a surge of something stronger, better, and more energetic than before flowed through her bones, setting every fiber in her body alight. I have my friends, and myself, and you can’t control me, you… you dumb forest! With a bright, bouncy smile, the tabby darted away and retreated to intertwine between Tom’s legs.

“Now… that red truck sure is suspicious, huh, darlin’?” As Tom stepped inside – Micheala trotting into the room alongside him – the older man craned his neck towards Addison, who sat on the kitchen stool with a preoccupied grimace. Her tired hands fingered the edges of her newspaper as she glanced upwards. “When we heard that shot, Mich – why, we were terrified somethin’ had happened to you!”

Micheala flicked her ears responsively, and Tom smiled. “Why… it’s almost like she understands us – don’t you, Micheala?” He bent down to scruff the she-cat between the ears.

“She is a brave lil’ kitter after all,” Addison added softly, turning a page. “But she’s smart, too – you shouldn’t worry so much, dear.”

“Pah! It’s in my blood, hon,” Tom said before he stood back up, stretching and leaning back onto the sofa. “I’ll worry ‘bout you all I need to.”

Addison rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh, hush,” she shook her head softly, letting the newspaper fall back into her lap with a distinguished crinkle. “Now – c’mon over here, dear. I need you to help me with cooking up some treats for the farmer’s market tomorrow.”

“Ah, of course! One second --” Tom said warmly, pausing for a second to glance down at Micheala. The she-cat stared back fondly, and he took a quick moment to take her in his arms and kiss the top of her head. With a lovely smile, he planted the she-cat back onto the sofa and then retreated into the kitchen, kissing the top of Addison’s wrinkled head as well.

They seem so… so happy, Micheala wondered tenderly, watching as the two stepped into the kitchen. They were almost birdlike in their swift gentility, moving around another to swap mixes and prepare the oven. And I’m safe with them – safe here…! Of course… Stella was right. She’s always right – it’s going to be okay.

Micheala took in a deep breath as the room slowly began to fill with homey warm smells, delighting her to no end as she drifted off into sleep. Curled up on the couch pillow, she knew she was home, safe, and with no reason to worry.

She was safe after all, as long as she remained here. With the sun cracking through the window, the tabby fell into a deep sleep.

-

Dark. Things were dark, Micheala noticed, through the bleary aching of her dream.

How did she get here – what was she doing? The tabby sleepily blinked away the muck in her vision. All she knew was she was walking, walking, ƃuᴉʞlɐʍ, ƃuᴉʞlɐʍ…

It was dark, again – dark from all around, from the crevices of the trees to the slick branches she found herself stepping over tediously. Sliding over the slimy, discarded twigs, Micheala felt… like… she wasn’t alone. Something about this place felt so familiar, yet so terrifying, so scary, so…

Suddenly, her eyes widened with absolute terror.

Micheala was in the forest.

Her heart immediately dropped to the bottom of her stomach, deep and wounded and scared like nothing she’d ever felt before. In her moment of terror, she began to speed up, hoping that the steady trot she’d gain would lead her out or cure her of her worries.

Then, steadily, she began to speed up. And run faster, and faster, and faster—

Something’s not right.

The trees around Micheala seemed to cave in, entrapping her in inescapable darkness. Looming over her with metaphorical eyes and clawed, thorny branches, the she-cat felt… like she was in danger. Like her life was on the line, like the world was closing in, like, like—

.thgir ton s'gnihtemoS

Something’s following me.

Micheala’s gasp hitched in her throat as she stumbled forwards, breaking into a fullblown run as the growling and hissing behind her became more and more apparent. There was some sort of breath on her tail, and and AND the sheer terror and adrenaline blasted her forwards, avoiding the spike of sudden rocks and tangled vines. The sky was dark, and black fog was thick, choking, too much around her throat and eyes and everything.

Run, run, oh ym god run run I’m going to—

When a bloodcurdling screech ran out – identical to a puppy in pain, crying out for some sort of protection – Micheala came to a skidding halt. The breathing behind her had stopped – the breathing had stopped and –

There was blood leaking out from the trees. Blood, blood, blood BLOOD

Yelping and screaming and terrified for her damn life, Micheala ran as fast as she could manage, her paws beating the ground like broken drums.

I HAVE TO FIND THE PUP I HAVE TO FIND AND SAVE IT I

The howling in her ears only increased in magnitude, howling like the bloodcurdling screeching of a thunderstorm, like the world was collapsing around her and her vision was blurry and – BLOOD. There was blood, blood – Micheala had run right into it, and it splattered her paws and slid between her toes like stiff molasses. With a horrified shriek, the she-cat choked on her tears and fell backward, her claws and bones aching as a thudding came closer and the scarlet soaked her paws, the stench of blood was too much to handle and it was sickening; the smell of death curdled her insides and between tears she couldn’t breathe.

Screams and shouts and bloodthirsty howls came thrusting through the treetops and ringing in the tabby’s ears, splitting her paws into fragments as she tried so hard to run, so hard to get away, crying acid  and spitting up black pulp and there was BLOOD and she knew she knew she knew she had to turn around. Something was following her. Between her own tightly caught breaths, Micheala swerved around, fear pumping so hard in her heart she could barely move.

And before everything went dark, she came face to face with a bright, gleaming, orange slit. Pupils retracted, looked at her, and then she—

woke

up.