She wakes up to the sensation of being cradled in someone's arms. Her eyes flutter open, and she finds herself staring up into the familiar face of a man. He has the same kind eyes as the stranger who had picked her up, but something seems off. He is tall and thin, with a scraggly dark beard covering his gaunt face. He smiles down at her, but his eyes seem cold and focused, not directed at her with any warmth or excitement. A sense of discomfort and apprehension settles in her chest.
She stretches, feeling the warmth of his hands as they run over her fur. A soft purr escapes her, masking her growing anxiety. She realizes she must have been asleep for some time but can't recall how she ended up in his arms.
Taking a moment to survey her surroundings, she notices the room around her is unfamiliar. It's dark and dreary, with no furniture, just two open archways letting light shine through and no windows. Looking down, she spots a silhouette of something behind the man. Before she can examine it further, the man continues to pet her, though his touch is now rougher and more assessing. He isn't petting her to enjoy the fluff of her fur; instead, it's as if he's feeling her anatomy, holding both her front paws with one hand, making it impossible for her to run.
She feels a surge of fear. Now that she is more awake, she can see the blood and gunk on his hands and clothes. He looks malnourished, his clothes dirty and torn. Then, her gaze lands on the bloody knife lying on the ground beside him. Shifting her focus back to the mound behind him, she now realizes it's a small pile of meat and fur, possibly from a freshly skinned animal. The realization hits her, he is a hunter, and it seems he wants to skin and eat her, too.
The absurdity of it all strikes her. Why would anyone want to eat a cat? She knows some cultures consider it a delicacy, but the idea still feels impossible to wrap her mind around. She wonders how people could even consider such a thing, she can't imagine their being a lot of meat on a cat, even when she thinks of the of larger felines like lions or tigers. If she saw one, she would run the other way, not imagine cooking and serving it.
Her heart races with fear as she struggles to free herself. The hunter exhales a laugh at her attempts, tightening his grip. Voices from somewhere in the background catch her attention, more men talking. Time is running out, and she knows she must act fast. Summoning all her strength, she claws at him with her back paws, scratching and biting to escape. The man makes a noise, a pained grunt, as she fights against his hold.
Finally, she breaks free and bolts toward the nearest archway, opposite from where the voices are coming from. She hears what can only be a curse from the hunter and the sound of his footsteps, pounding against the ground behind her, but she doesn't look back. She just keeps running, pushing herself until she reaches safety.
She doesn't stop running until the sound of the hunter's pursuit fades into the distance. Her legs feel like lead, but she pushes herself further, her body desperate for escape. The distant voices of the hunter and his men blend into the silence as she slows her pace, finally coming to a halt behind a crumbled wall.
Panting heavily, she takes a moment to catch her breath, her chest heaving with each inhale. Her heart continues to race, the pounding of it almost deafening in her ears. She surveys her surroundings, her eyes flicking over the decaying building. It's clear that the place has been abandoned for years, rubble and debris litter the floor, evidence of long-forgotten lives. She listens closely for any sound of pursuit, but the voices of the hunter and his men have grown fainter, now nothing more than a murmur on the wind. The coast is clear, for now.
She realizes she's in a dystopian town, similar to the one where she first woke up. The buildings are in ruins, and the few people she saw seem malnourished. They, too, appear to be struggling to survive. What kind of world has she stumbled into? How will she survive this?
She waits in hiding for a while, making sure the hunter and his men have given up the search. When she finally peeks out from behind the rubble, she checks the coast before making her move.
As she makes her way through the streets, she stays low, keeping an eye out for any signs of danger. She must find food, shelter, and a way to protect herself. Despite everything, she's determined to survive. She still has a family to return to, a husband and four children who need her. Even in cat form, they need her. She can't help but wonder how they've managed without her to keep things in order.
Probably a bit of chaos, she thinks. Maybe the house has turned into a jungle. Her husband, no doubt, is attempting to "organize" the laundry pile by tossing everything into a single basket. There'll be no separating whites from colors, and that white cloth she swore was "too nice to ever stain" will likely have turned into a lovely shade of pink or, more realistically, a patchwork of every color in the rainbow. The kids? Well, they've probably been eating cereal for every meal, calling it "breakfast for dinner," while wearing mismatched socks and thinking it's a fashion statement. She sighs.
She moves quietly through the streets, coming across a few animals, mostly insects and some birds. When she tries to "meow" at them, they don't seem to understand. She sighs and keeps moving forward, determined to find a way out of this nightmare.
Her thoughts drift back to the hunter and his men. Why would they want to eat a cat? The question lingers in her mind, but she knows she can't afford to dwell on it. They looked malnourished, their faces hollow, and if she were as hungry as they seemed, she'd probably be considering eating a cat at some point, too. The reality of survival does strange things to a person. Still, it's not the time to waste energy wondering about their motives. What matters now is staying focused. Survival.