Elena had always marveled at her grandmother Yela's peculiar experiments with cooking bacon. She'd use different methods, even swapping out parts of the cut, though it often left her queasy. Still, Elena never dared to complain. The joy that lit up Yela's wrinkled face when she handed over a plate of food was more than enough. To decline and risk disappointing her would have been unbearable—Elena's own heart would shatter at the sight of her grandmother's sadness. So, she ate, no matter how strange the concoction.
Once she finished, it was dishwashing time. Elena didn't particularly mind the chore, though the mental anticipation made it feel like a tedious task. Meanwhile, Grandma Yela would shuffle off to the barn to tend to the animals. That was when the true spectacle began.
"Gotcha, you old goat!" Yela would yell with glee as she snuck up behind the cows for milking. The absurdity of her antics always made Elena laugh.
"You're the real old goat here, Gran!" Elena would tease back, smirking as Yela cackled like a mischief-making wolf.
But Yela's reign of terror wasn't confined to the cows. Once the milking was done, she'd turn her attention to the chickens. Her shrill cries of triumph as she wrestled eggs from the clucking hens echoed across the farm.
For Elena, these moments were precious. She adored the farm life despite its challenges. The bond she shared with her grandmother made every inconvenience worthwhile. It was better than being in the town, where she felt like an outsider. She and her grandmother weren't wealthy, and their simple clothes set them apart from others.
The other kemonomimi—humanoids with animal ears, tails, and eyes—looked down on her. School was even worse, where bullies targeted her mismatched socks. On one foot was a thigh-high sock, and on the other, an ankle sock—a "fashion statement" born of a rushed morning she never had the courage to fix.
But none of it mattered when she was with Yela. Her grandmother's presence made her feel invincible, even when life wore her down.
Until the day it didn't.
It had started like any other day. Elena had skipped school, avoiding the suffocating classroom atmosphere. By the time she headed home, she was rehearsing excuses for her absence. She swung open the door, head hung low, prepared for Yela's scolding.
But the house was silent.
Thinking she'd gotten lucky, Elena went to her room, assuming Yela had gone into town. An hour passed, then two, and unease crept in. Her grandmother never stayed out this long.
Elena decided to check the barn. She must have lost track of time with the chickens again, she thought, chuckling nervously as she crossed the farmyard.
When she opened the barn door, the air was still. Her breath hitched.
There, sprawled on the ground, was her grandmother.
The world seemed to tilt as Elena froze, her eyes fixed on Yela's lifeless form. Her skin had turned a sickly purple hue.
Elena's mind went blank. Then, panic took over. She ran. Through the market. Past the school. Straight to the hospital on the edge of town.
Bursting through the doors, she stumbled to the front desk, tears streaming down her face. The receptionist rushed over, trying to calm her, but Elena's words came out in choked sobs. Finally, she managed, "Grandma… Grandma Yela is dead!"
The hospital staff sprang into action, calling the police and dispatching an ambulance. Elena collapsed to her knees, trembling as a nurse draped a blanket over her shoulders.
She woke with a start, gasping for air. Her body throbbed with pain, the right side aching while the left felt completely numb. Blood mixed with tears as her memories blurred together. Why am I alive?
A sharp pain erupted from her stomach, but her hand glowed faintly—her healing magic was still active. The warmth of it grounded her as she realized it had kept her from death's door.
For a moment, she marveled at the irony of cursing for the first time in her life. Of all the times to grow up, she thought bitterly.
Her sense of taste was the only one intact, but it offered no comfort. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth, coating her gums like a cruel reminder of her near-death experience.
As her consciousness faded again, she caught a glimpse of the sky. It was streaked with orange—the last rays of sunset. Goodnight, she thought as the world went black.
The moon rose, its light illuminating the forest. A massive beast emerged from its hidden cave. Its fur, dark as the void, was speckled with white, blending seamlessly with the starlit sky.
The creature yawned, stretching its colossal form as it recalled the little cat girl it had spared the night before. She had been an amusing anomaly, too foolish or brave to leave its territory immediately. But now, she was gone.
Its patrol resumed, each step shaking the ground as it stalked through the forest. When it reached the river, its golden eyes narrowed. A foul scent lingered in the air—a rival monster had trespassed.
Following the trail, it came upon a gruesome sight. Blood spattered the rocks on the far bank, and further ahead, behind a thicket, was a crumpled figure.
The beast parted the foliage with a single paw.
There she was.
The cat girl lay mangled and broken, her body barely clinging to life. The sight ignited a fury in the beast, its roar shaking the forest.
This was an insult. It had saved her, sanctioned her presence. To harm her in its territory was a declaration of war.
The beast extended its paw, channeling its power to restore her missing limb and mend the worst of her injuries. This was all it could do. The rest was up to her.
It turned, the ground trembling beneath its weight. The hunt was on. The one who dared harm her would pay—with their bloodline erased from existence.