Whatever had attacked Ahzila was still invisible. Yet, it left trails of blood around the walls and ceiling. Like watching a painting form without a brush or an artist, she watched the sprawl of deep red bloom around her. The blood dripped to the floor in thin streaks.

Ahzila had heard that potion cats were devious and dangerous. She had come across them several times before. But, she hadn’t expected them to start sticking to the walls.

He had the strong scent of male pheromones, and she could smell a lack of fur like a Laquem, but something about him was very different from the cats of Avurn. She couldn’t quite place it.

A puft of dust flew over her chest as he landed on the floor. In the spotlight of the star that hung over her shoulder, Ahzila could see the scuffle of vague footprints start to rush towards her, and the sign of a tail drifting behind them.

Sempiternity should have rendered any normal cat dead by it’s touch alone, even without taking a slice out of them. But perhaps a potion cat really did have something that could even stop Azmriz?

It was then Ahzila realized with profound sadness that this sensation wasn’t new. Perhaps these were the same thoughts as the Achart woman who last carried this blade, just moments before a potion cat assasinated her, too?

She was just one small girl in a long line of murdered regency. Miranda thought she had the grit to make it through the Outskirts, but the truth was, Ahzila couldn’t make it through anything.

Knowing that she was fully outmatched, Ahzila changed her tactic and threw her knife into a window with a bright purple streak, creating a path for her to flee into. The glass fell inward in large shatters, leaving enough space for her to jump inside, holding up the hem of her robes so they would not snag on the sharp edges.

Inside was an old clothing store that had racks of coats, hats, and scarves decaying with the rest of Avurn. The Outskirts didn’t have any insects to speed up decay, but it could still mildew and mold. The smell of the old clothes was enough to make her feel light-headed.

Although it was vile to be near the soggy garments, she slid under a clothes rack. This was only saving her seconds of time, but it was at least something. Unfortunately, her feet kicked up some tiles on the ground. The floor had become so loose, that they barely had enough grout to hold their checkered pattern of aqua and green.

This caused a lot of noise, and gave away her position, but they also gave Ahzila an idea.

“Adnrolia Avu!” Ahzila cried, shifting the balance and gravity around her so floor tiles started to spring up violently towards the ceiling. She could not throw this potion cat’s body like Miranda, Ahzila was no where near as powerful. But a million sharp tiles was well within her potential.

“Wherever you are, potion cat, I will find you! I will polish this ceiling with your bones!”

The tiles flew through her pinpoint of light, sending streaks of shadow across the walls. The shadows strobed with the light in a way that made it impossible to tell if Ahzila was hitting her target or not.

Her answer came from a feeling deep in her spine. She felt her throat close, her chest compress, and a cold chill as her robe drifted away from her in split threads. Ahzila fell to the ground underneath her jacket and a few of her leather gloves, which smothered her like a heavy blanket.

He had managed to cut her robe. Ahzila was now utterly defenseless, the size of a cat smaller than even Misty.

Her light source went out with a fizzle without her stamina to back it up, and all of the tiles in the ceiling fell back down to the ground. The trap she had laid for her victim was now going to trap her.

Ahzila felt a tile hit her square in the back, and while she couldn’t see anything through the deep dark of the Outskirts, she was still seeing spots from the collision. Her feet cut on shards of tile as she raced away, unsure of the direction she was even going.

Thankfully, while her magic had decreased with her size, her other five senses had increased. She could smell them fall, and could feel the dust scatter through every sensory fur on her body. Moreover, she could hear the sharp shwing of a dagger that she would never have picked out from the cacophany if she were tall.

Almost like the dagger could speak, it sunk into the dirt directly in front of her like a threat. Sempiternity did not currently leave a glow, but Ahzila wasn’t about to hazard picking her up, not when her own magic had reduced exponentially with her size.

There was a silent moment after the tiles had finished falling, where perhaps the potion cat was trying to see if he could hear Ahzila struggle. She held her breath cautiously, thankful that the smell of the potion cat’s blood cascaded on so many things that she was partially hidden by it.

Perhaps he’d think she was dead and he would move on?

Ahzila could sense through her ears and whiskers the movement of clothing racks. She could hear the shelves being violently torn from the wall. Whatever he was, was not satisfied by merely waiting. He wanted to feel her dead under his claws.

“I have one more robe.” Ahzila thought to herself, “One more chance to escape.”

She had purchased the robe as backup, hoping to never have to use it for more than something to wear between washes. Now all she had to do was retrieve it from her magical pocket dimension she had made years ago.

But, in order to do that, she had to snap her fingers. She was too afraid to move, to breathe, to make any sound. The ear shattering scraping was inching closer and closer to her.

Another roar filled the room with thick horror, seemingly right in front of Ahzila, so close she could smell his breath. It was enough to break her fear, charged with enough panic to snap her claws, feeling the familiar warmth of the robe that stretched her legs and her spine.

The process of the robe changing her shape was nearly instantaneous, and she took no hesitation to scream for her little star to give her any light, so at least she could maybe see the face of the assailant that would kill her.

But there was no one there. The smell of his pheromones disappeared along with him.

“What?” She hissed, calling her dagger to her side with a quick spell on her lips. “What is-”

It was then she saw the wall of the store.

He was not trying to find her when he was making a ruckus, instead he was leaving a message. Deep gauges were engraved on the wall like what she had seen earlier by the Himalayan camps. The word “Anava” written over and over itself.

Now that she knew what that lunatic smelled like and sounded like, it only made it all the more menacing.

“Where?” She looked around again, but he was gone. He delivered his message, and then he left.

If Misty was out here, she was surely dead.

Ahzila decided she could go no further, so she sprinted from the store and back towards the center, more willing to face Miranda than face whatever he was again.

***

Misty Vlumane was not excited at the prospect of changing her name and adapting to Avurn society. Nor was she excited by the prospect of joining the odd Himalayan cult in ruins that seemed to treat science, numbers, and nudity as some sort of exaltation.

Instead, she just wanted to go home.

After spraying a scent trail all over the Outskirts, she hid her actual scent. This was a street trick commonly known to strays, but was not known to people like Ahzila who had never hunted for survival in their entire lives.

Which was how Misty was back at the train station, easily navigating the maze of the Outskirts after years of navigating sewers and rooftops. Quietly, she kept out of sight of any Himalayan engineers or the white fur of Miranda.

“Excuse me?” She asked, tugging on the coat of a passerby. “Excuse me, can you get me on the train? The train that goes to Earth?” She was ignored, no matter how many coats she pulled on. One even kicked her away, overprotective of the mere hem on an ugly robe.

“Rude ass dress-people! I don’t know why Brinkley got me into this mess, but I’m done with all of it!”

The mounting gallop of an approaching train echoed from down the tunnel, and several people started to line up and group together like bees in a hive.

“The C Train is now arriving. Next destination: Earth.”

Misty chuckled when she realized this would be her chance to truly escape this place for good. She didn't know what part of "Earth" the train was implying, but it would be good enough.

“Goodbye, Avurn.” She sniffed. There were so many legs to hide between, so many bags she could jump into, this would be easy.

“It’s so crowded in this station, I only need a distraction and I'm good as gone.” Misty smiled, looking for what her distraction should be.

Above her there was the large chandelier, the many birds, and the historic hanging tapestries; there were hundreds of ways a cat could make a disaster here. Quite frankly, Misty was spoiled for choice.

However cats are destructive by nature, so she didn’t have to do any of that herself.

With sudden loud pops, gunfire hit the ceiling, spraying cement and rubble across the station. Everyone ran for their lives or hit the floor. Misty narrowly avoided being trampled under their feet, trying to keep eye on the sliding doors of the train, and the sliding doors of her freedom.