It's cold. I pull my coat tighter around my form. The man who wore this face was a frail-looking homeless urchin, hiding their strength behind layers of grime and dirt and overlarge clothes.

"Excuse me."

A gentle voice. I turn. A human is looking at me, standing not two steps away.

"We're giving out meal packs." She half-turns, gesturing at the group of chattering people crowded around an open car behind her. "Do you want one?"

I nod. Food is always appreciated; free food is even more so.

She smiles.

I squint into the halo around them, constricting my pupils until her features come into focus. Framed by the light of the sun, she looks angelic.

A divine gift sent from the heavens.

A second chance.

My sixth third eighth fifty second chance.

I keep my movements slow, my hand almost shaking, the image of fragility.

Her smile remains patient and understanding. My fingers brush along hers as I take the bag.

I feel a jolt, like an injection of calm and soothing song directly into my blood.

Oh, how wonderful and open their mind must be.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away with a jerking motion like many have before when they see this face.

All too soon she turns away. The connection breaks before it could form.

I take a deep breath. Grip the paper bag like it's the limb I want to snatch. Focus on the smell of paper and plastic. Don't snatch for their hand, pull back, be slow.

The woman turns and walks back to the other humans. As her coat flutters in the wind, a whiff of a tantalizing scent hits me in the face. So sweet.

An old familiar hunger rears its head. The phantom pinprick of my fangs threatens to tear past the gums of this face. Rip. Tear. DEVOUR.

NO! I tear the bag apart, letting its contents spill onto my lap. The plastic cover of the sandwich is torn by the blunt teeth of my disguise. The layers of fluffy bread and cheese and leaves follow, slipping past my teeth and down my gullet. I swallow greedily, not bothering to chew. Once the sandwich is gone, it's followed by the banana and the sachet of yoghurt. In such a public place, I only remember to peel the banana at the last second. I just need to fill my stomach, stop the hunger, and stay in control.

Okay. I feel better. Calmer. Good. Let's be human. We can be normal. I can be normal.

They're moving on. The group of volunteers, splitting up. I lean forward slightly, ears pricking forward. Focus. Lengthen the nerves, shift the cells around. Listen.

"Eloise."

What was that?

"See you later, girl."

Oh, she’s smiling.

"Bye, Eloise."

That must be her name.

I roll the name in my mouth, tasting the vowels and turning over the syllables.

"Eloise." How wonderful.

Oh, wait. She’s leaving. Walking side by side with two of the volunteers, heading in the direction of the city centre, while the other three volunteers walk in the opposite direction deeper into the park.

She’s still smiling, a small, unsure smile. Arms laden with bags of meal packs. "Where do we go now?"

Her voice sounds so gentle. So pretty. I want to hear more, but they're getting too far away now.

I want to know them.

I have to learn more.

I will follow them. Just for a little while.

It's so easy to slip into old faces. So easy to call on old memories of past connections to blend in with the crowd.

But too soon, it ends. Their task complete. All the volunteers are packing up and leaving. Including her.

She uses two different smiles. One she uses on strangers, calm and friendly, but reserved. One she uses on friends, bright and beautiful, like moonlight.

Humans have so many smiles.

I want to know more.

I want to know her routine. What she likes. What she doesn't like.

I want to see what smile she’ll give to someone she loves. Her tears. Her anger. Her doubt. Her joy.

I can keep following her. I've had a lot of practice.

*                          *                   *

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

I cycle through the many faces I've worn before.

It's harder to remain calm when she talks to me, only the years of practice in holding my form stop me from breaking character.

I know some of these faces aren't perfect. The mental connection with them never completed and their memories never completely devoured. But I need them, Eloise likes faces like these. Faces like these are granted the gift of a smile, with a rush of blood beneath skin. Faces likes these, prompt her heart to quicken. I'm sure I can fix any inconsistencies using features from a complete form. I can be human.

I have learnt so much.

Eloise is smart, well educated. She has certificates with shimmering circles in the corner framed on their wall. Can speak and write so eloquently. I could listen to her talk for hours.

Sometimes, in the way she interacts with people, it feels like Eloise knows the mind like I do. Able to connect with others so easily. And she’s kind. So wonderfully kind.

Willing to give up her seat on the bus to a stranger who just looks dead tired, the stranger doesn't even have to be elderly or pregnant. Willing to sit and listen for hours to a small child, comforting them and promising to stay until their mother returns.

So beautiful.

So perfect.

So perfect for me.

But loneliness oozes off from her like a bitter river.

She lives far from her family. Phone calls and yearly visits cannot replace the constant presence of people living in the same home as you.

I don't like the smell of isolation. I want to hold her close, smooth her hair as I hold her frail form close, and soothe it away.

But sometimes she’s angry … wary.

She pushes me away.

This form is imperfect.

Try again.

Imperfect.

Again...

Not right.

...and again...

Stop! Maybe I'm moving too fast.

I should go slowly.

Learn what Eloise likes. Earn her trust in a non-threatening, lovable form. Something she can't help but want to keep close. Then slowly work my way up to a human form. Yes. Yes! That will work.

*                          *                   *

I don't like using animal forms. My skin feels too tight, too constricting, and after too long it gets hard to breathe. Every fibre of my being fidgeting and pulling at the restraints of the shape. But animal forms are useful. Small creatures with large eyes and soft furs, like cats, dogs, deer, and foxes; all these forms seem to bewitch the human mind, enticing them to coo and fawn and let down their defences.

Birds in particular are great for gathering information, and I would take the form of one if I could figure out how to get the wings to work and the shape of the feathers to lie right.

Never mind that.

I settle for the form of a stray cat. Lingering near Eloise’s favoured route for her midday walks, waiting until she comes ambling along.

There she is. This is my moment. Look cute. Be aloof. Catch their attention.

She sees me.

Oh, is she? Yes. She’s calling me over, using that little teeth-shushing sound and making those adorable little wiggling hand gestures.

I should draw her in. First, I should act aloof.

Look over.

Look away.

Hesitate.

Hesitate.

Succumb to the gestures and shushing.

Meow pitifully and wind around her ankles.

Dart away.

Return.

It’s working.

That feels like … she’s touching me!

Soft digits riffling through my fur. They're warm. What a pretty smile. It's ecstasy. I want more!

Touch me. Touch me. TOUCH ME.

NO! Wait, please. Don't go yet.

Come back. Please.

Okay. This is fine. I'll wait until tomorrow.

It's so quiet. So peaceful.

I'm hungry.

I need to stretch. This form is too small.

Shift. Release. Contract and uncurl muscle and sinew. Stretch out. Move bone. Shift.

I'm hungry.

The shift is euphoria. The sweet taste of life is more so.

A fox that wandered too far into the city. A crow that flew too low. Followed by a nest full of growing life.

The light is returning.

Shift. Curl. Slide sinew over bone, layer fat under muscle. Move. Flare and stretch scales. Shift.

It’s a new day.

They're back!

Eloise! My Eloise!

She’s smiling at me. Oh, please, touch me. Touch me. TOUCH ME.

*                          *                   *

For a few weeks now, we've settled into a comfortable routine. I keep Eloise company during her midmorning walk and in return, she gives me affection and tells me about her day.

She’s started leaving a bowl of cat food out near the gate of the park where we meet. Such a wonderful gesture.

She cares about me!

Always so happy to see me. It's so satisfying, to hear her voice, to know I'm the reason for her smile.

Last week, Eloise asked if I had a chip and rambled on about adoptions. I had to keep my distance for a bit after that. I could not risk being taken to a veterinarian, even if it meant she want to take me home.

Wait!? She wants to take me home!

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. YES. YES. YES. YES. YES. YES.

I'll be good I promise. Take me home. Take me home with you.

Just as the sun brushes the tops of the trees, I take my place by the park gate, waiting for them.

It takes a little extra effort to stop my fur standing on end, I can feel liquid excitement thrumming in my blood.

My tail isn't too long is it? Are my ears in proportion? My fur is all the same length?

Everything is perfect. Good.

There she is!

Hello!Hello!HowhaveyoubeenImissedyousomuch!

Warmth. Light. Kind caresses running through my fur and rubbing my ears.

I love...I love...please, keep talking. Tell me everything. Please.

Work has been stressful. Oh love, don't worry, take me home and I can help. Oh please. Oh please. Oh please.

Yes! Finally, it's time. We're walking home. She hasn’t said goodbye or shooed me towards the bowl. That must mean she wants me to come home with her.

Finally, I'm one step closer to our life together. I want them...I WANT...!

They pause. I take a few more steps before turning to look up at them.

Why aren't you moving? Is something wrong?

Why is she not moving?

She’s crouching to my level. Her face twisted in frown. Why does she look sad?

"I'm sorry little guy. I can't take you home. My boyfriend's allergic."

Wait ... WHAT!