The crisp morning air bit at Calypso's cheeks as she walked to the bus stop, her breath forming small clouds that disappeared into the grey November sky. The streets were quiet, the kind of silence that only came with the early hours, when the world was still shaking off its slumber. Aubrey stood beside her, arms crossed, a scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. She was rambling on about something—probably the math test later—but Calypso wasn't listening.
Her eyes had caught something across the street.
A cat.
It was small, its black fur patchy and thin, and it moved with a visible limp. Its left hind leg dragged awkwardly behind it. The sight of it struck her—there was something almost human in the way its yellow eyes glistened with pain.
"Caly? You're not listening," Aubrey said, nudging her with an elbow.
"Hold on," Calypso muttered. Without thinking, she stepped off the curb.
"Caly, where are you going? The bus is coming any minute!" Aubrey's voice followed her, but she didn't turn back.
The cat had already hobbled away, disappearing into the line of trees that bordered the road. Calypso hesitated at the edge of the woods, her sneakers crunching on frost-tipped leaves. She glanced over her shoulder. Aubrey was still at the bus stop, shaking her head.
"I'll catch up!" she called, more to herself than to Aubrey.
The forest felt colder, darker. The trees loomed over her, their gnarled branches weaving a canopy that blocked out what little light the sun offered. Calypso followed the faint rustling of leaves and occasional glimpses of black fur darting between trunks. She kept going, deeper and deeper, until her own breath and footsteps were the only sounds around her.
Minutes passed. She stopped.
"This is stupid," she muttered under her breath. She'd never find the cat, and now she was going to miss the bus. She turned around, ready to retrace her steps.
And froze.
The cat stood behind her.
It sat calmly on the forest floor, tail curled neatly around its feet. Its yellow eyes locked onto hers, unblinking. Then, it meowed—a high, mournful sound that echoed strangely in the stillness.
A sudden, sharp ringing pierced her ears. Calypso staggered, clutching her head. The sound grew louder, unbearable, until her vision blurred and her knees buckled.
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the cat, sitting serenely, watching her with what looked like amusement.
When she opened her eyes again, the world was… wrong.
The sky above her shimmered a strange, pale gold, as if the sun had been replaced by a giant, glowing lantern. The grass beneath her was so vividly green it almost hurt to look at. The trees around her were taller, their leaves glowing faintly, like they were infused with light.
Her head throbbed as she sat up, groaning. That's when she saw it.
The cat.
It was sitting by her head, licking a paw nonchalantly. Then, to her utter disbelief, it spoke.
" dramatic," it said, its voice squeaky and condescending, like a spoiled aristocrat. It flicked its tail lazily, regarding her with a sly grin. "You humans really are fragile creatures."
Calypso scrambled back, her heart pounding. "What—what's going on? Where am I?"
The cat tilted its head, a soft chuckle rumbling from its throat. "Where you are doesn't matter. What matters is how you got here. And, oh dear, I'm afraid it's all your fault." the cats voice whined almost like a cheeky child.
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice shaking.
The cat stood, stretching leisurely before stepping closer, its golden eyes glinting with mischief. "You wanted to play! Play with Nini! Stupid human."
It leaned in, its whiskers twitching as it grinned.
"And now, you're mine."