Bump. Bump.

Silence. Every sense numbed as her heart rate rose to her throat.

Bump Bump.

It was as if it wanted to pop out of her mouth and bolt. Her mind finally places where such sudden panic is from. With a cautious motion she slowly turns her head to find what had found her.

Bump Bump.

White pools bore into her skin in a way so indescribable. Birch jumped in surprise but was soon breathing a sigh of relief. With the way he shook his head she knew Shaliver was just as surprised to see her. He peeked from behind the trash bin and was quick to understand the current dilemma. As he peeked she was able to get a closer look at the faux-feline. Something about the way his fur was even more spikey had her curious. He almost looked like those arched cats in the windows of storefronts.

He points with his tail over to a pile of discarded pews and religious texts. They led up towards a small hole in the wall. Just big enough for herself and her furry friend. Retreating from the alley they currently hid in, they make their way down to one closer to the pews. Birch tests a few spots before climbing from each solid pew upwards. In Spite of the few splinters earned along the way they made steady progress, Shaliver obviously reaching the top before her. As she reaches for the next grip she slips back, making a small creak.

She held in her gasp as she maneuvered towards the side. There were murmurs. Followed by the steps of giggling guards. Tip. Tap. Birch held in her breath. Grabbing one of the semi-damp books she prepared for a fight.

Tip Tap.

The steps were just on the other side.

"Mew?"

Mew?

Their stepping stopped just in front of the pew pileup. Their tones were now the same voices her parents would make at her baby photos. She finally looks up to see Shaliver showing just enough of his head for them not to see his horns. He mimicked with shocking accuracy and even faked a kitty wave. They continued to coo at him from a distance before making their way back to their post. As they did Shaliver motions her inside, which she did without any further hesitation.

In the walls of the stone structure it was somehow more cold than it was outside. They had landed, from how many moldy boxes and mothballed clothes, in the donations room. Some labels on them were labeled to be sent out the day the owner of the place was arrested. She puffed into her hands, attempting to retain warmth. It wasn't long before she noticed the intense stare Shaliver gave her.

He whispered, "Don't ever tell anyone."

Birch just gives him a mischievous look to which his fur spikes up further somehow. She could see him circling her like those black cats from Cat Cemetery. Outside the room the halls were vacant of any life aside from mice. Shaliver took the chance to grab a snack while going down those claustrophobic walls. It was when they saw a light at the end of the tunnel that they could finally witness the gathering.

Candles of pink and green illuminated the large space filled once more with many people. Amongst them she could even spot Lou's buzz cutted head in the crowd. With everyone too occupied with the empty stage the two hid behind the broken down Christmas scene. She loathed that her sanctuary had to be such a thing.

As they waited Shaliver pressed his face into Birch's shirt, letting out low but exhausted grumbles and growls. He allowed his ears to pull back as he laid in her lap. Her first thought to this...

What the heck?

Sure, he liked to sleep at the edge of her bed. Yeah, he loved getting pets from her mom and occasionally herself or dad. And he may allow for hugs if he is feeling generous. Yet he has never once in the time she has known him acted this way. He was not one to let himself look vulnerable, despite the truth being otherwise. With how hard he was pressing one could think he was just rubbing his non-existent snot on her. He didn't vocalize anything aside from his growling and grumbling. She thought she could also hear another thing.

A whine.

Instead of her normal teasing she does not comment on his behavior. And just lets him get whatever out of his system, hopefully by the time this meeting starts. After being forced to listen as the crowd boasted of the product's quality, it became quiet. Peeking from behind the cover a figure walked upstage towards the premade podium. In their hand, one of the bars, in the other was a comb. Even in the dimness of the candlelit room she knew exactly who it was.

"Greetings followers!" He opens his arms in a welcoming gesture with political poise. His people cheered like the province had won the international curling final. She just scowled. "You've all gathered here and I applaud you for finding it. Thank you my assistants for helping set it all up!" The most foreboding people who remained cloaked in the shadows nodded most unenthusiastically. Yet their synthetic smiles were frozen on their otherwise uncaring faces.

She gets out her phone and begins taking the video. "Now the rules are rather simple. No cameras or photos, keep eating your Bitty Bites and come forward in an organized line. Now," he blows on the whistle around his neck, "-Immortalize me." And like that the crowd's posture straightens. Stiffly they began to form lines towards the stage where the man, Cassius, stared off to his left. Two of the large "assistants" bring forward an absurdly large cauldron with an unknown liquid. He motions the first of his followers forward with a sinister sneer. At this point the follower was clearly starved, their cheeks caving into their fake tanned face. Their once well tended hair was now flat and from how it moved, crackly. No amount of makeup could hide this woman's eye bags which could rival Lou's. She leaned that face over the cauldron with unfiltered glee.

Eyes, ears, nostrils and even mouth began to leak. It shimmered pinker than even the most glitter filled putty. The smell however. OH BY THE STAIRWAYS TO HELL! What CONCOCTION could produce something so vile. Rotten eggs were bad enough but how can something make your nostrils burn! Each hair agonized even behind clasped hands. Spicey while nauseating. And in the worst kind of way, cinnamon.

Why are you trying to ruin cinnamon for me?

With black speckles dancing across her eyes she is able to see the process repeated over. And over. With the last of her energy she pulls the shaky Shaliver further behind the deteriorating stable. That smell choked the last of her consciousness, forcing her under.

As the sunlight of dawn leaked through the somehow still intact rose windows, their eyes fluttered. Thankfully the aroma that once conquered the room was gone. However her intestines felt as if someone had mixed them in a blender. Wobbling to her feet her head was flooded with flashes of pain. So much she nearly fell on her butt again, only saved by the sturdy stone wall. Shaliver attempted to steadily stand too but was just as malfunctioning as her. If not worse.

She couldn't tell if the growls were from him or her own stomach. Glancing around, there was no trace of the previous night's events. Checking her phone the battery had died in the time she was out cold. They hadn't moved, meaning those weirdos hadn't discovered her. Thank goodness.

Outside in the golden glow the two had the walking skills of an inebriated drunkard. Both had to take breaks from each block just to recover their decreasing energy. Though it would have appeared that the faux cat was struggling more. On one particular stop the two took the opportunity to ensure they saw what they had the previous night. Thankfully there were no early morning joggers to rudely interrupt.

"Ha! Every rose has its thorns. And we have proof. Eh, Shaliver?"

HRrrk!

He was head first in a garbage bin doing the opposite of what was expected of him. Just hearing the ungodly noises he was making had her heaving. A few terrible minutes later he sat down in exhaustion as he put back the lid. She rubbed his back while giving him comforting words. When he fully came back to, his expression was strangely enough confusion.

He was pawing at his neck as he asked, "What was that?"

"You threw up Shaliver. It's called nausea."

"But how?"

She gave him a blank stare, "Have you not thrown up before?"

"Why would I waste food?"

Her face may have well been two dots and a line at that moment. Without a word she continued back to her humble home. By the time they had arrived the sidewalk was far more lively. They entered to be greeted by the smell of freshly cooked bacon and pure black coffee. She mumbled something to the effect of finishing a morning walk as she attempted to escape upstairs. However her mother was swift to stop her. The first thing her mother did when she turned her around was place her palm on Birch's forehead. She grimaced as she summoned her husband over to evaluate. He was "slightly" more concerned.

"No doubt you're running a fever. Why go out if you're clearly ill?" Her mother chastised.

Again she mumbled about the cool air feeling nice and assuming it would make her feel better. Normally she wasn't a very good liar. However when it came to hiding her various ailments from her parents she was a pro. Or so she liked to think.

"Did you catch it too big cat?"

Allowing her head to fall down to her leg, Shaliver was leaning against it. His lankily thin legs were vibrating at this point. He was growling poorly, coming out as a mix between that and a low whine. His empty eyes were undoubtedly in pain. Her father scooped up Shaliver no problem and made his way upstairs. Her mother, and through force herself, followed behind.

Birch pulled the hoodie off and got tucked into the cool bedding. She would have fought it, if her arms little muscle didn't melt away. Shaliver was placed on her hoodie to which he immediately clocked out. Her mom gently pecked the snoozing kitty on the head. Meanwhile her father got out the mini dvd player with a screen, along with a pile of her favorite movies.

The finishing touch? The bucket. Right next to her if needed. Along with one for Shaliver. In Spite of her father's jokes of her being "ghost white" he was just trying to relax his own fears of her condition. He was the first to reluctantly leave, assuring he would be home as soon as possible. Her mom would come over and kiss her on the cheek, making sure she had an ice-pack before leaving for work. They had also been kind enough to plug in her phone. As soon as it was back on she could prove the true intentions of that Bastard Cassius.

Sleep was the only thing she could do being stuck in bed. The melting ice bag gave refreshing relief from her throbbing head. It was with that her mind drifted back into unconsciousness, but not before noticing Shaliver sneaking off. From the way he was still not walking straight he hadn't yet recovered.

The next three days were simply put, Hell.

Not even her worst flus could compare. Throwing up, physical agony at every movement to the point just twitching hurt, constant exhaustion, and sweating rivers. Never was there a sense of relief aside from sleep. Her father was forced to take all those days off just to keep an eye on her condition. Even with medication nothing seems to help in those three days of torture. There was no chance to check her phone or even put in a new movie. In between the moments of awareness she could see her father, even behind the mask, wide eyed.

Day four however was pure bliss. Aside from a slight stomach ache her previous pains were gone. The longer she remained awake, the more her body felt capable of moving. Upon seeing the rose color returning to his daughter's cheeks, he was ready to tackle her into a hug. Rather than that though, he ruffled her hair as he congratulated her on defeating the world's meanest flu. Her mother felt equally calm knowing her daughter was finally getting better. Though still had one thought on her mind.

"Let's hope Shaliver is having a similar recovery."

Birch finally remembered how he had left and not come back since. If he had gone through even half of what she had, she wished he had stayed.

When evening finally arrived and her parents had walked up to their room Birch swiped her fully charged phone. There were no messages from Lou or Presely to her surprise, not even a question of where she was. Of course Cassius unwelcomely showed up on her dashboard, his face even more unnerving than before. Yet no posts on the Bitty Bites bar or anything like it, only being seen in background photos. When she checked her camera roll however...

It wasn't there.

No pictures. No Videos. Nothing.

Her heart rate goes up immediately. Did I forget to press record? IDIOT!

Muffling her face rabidly into her pillow. All that suffering for nothing! I had to puke up a week's worth of food for this!

Her pillow grew wet as she sighed into the soft fabric. Of course she forgot to press the button and now she needed another way to prove his guilt. On the bright side, maybe Hans has figured out what is in that stuff by now. And if it had the effect it had just from that smell then surely it was worse ingesting it.

This is a problem for tomorrow.