One of these days I’d absolutely slaughter someone (or at least injure them enough to gain Experience) and do it where humans could watch as clueless witnesses.

But after I fought that screechy owl in the tree, I felt woozy on my feet—which was scary because, of course, I was in a tree.

HP: 54% (125/230)
SP: 11% (21/185)

Judging by those percentages, I was right to feel woozy.

A good night’s sleep would fix it, though. So would killing that owl so I could feast on their corpse, since I no longer had any palatable food in my Inventory nor did I have any faith that Reed would present any. So I bounded down to Reed’s side, snapped up some dead, and we hotfooted it back to the campsite. At least, that was what we must have done…I apparently lost my short-term memory there.

***

HP: 100% (230/230)
SP: 100% (185/185)

I woke up just before the sun had risen, when the night sky had only just changed from indigo to blue. I half expected Reed to be up already, legs crossed, whittling at whatever animal statue she was whittling. At the very least, I expected the fire. I saw neither.

Instead, I spotted the object lopsided on the ground. Rough-hewn, but I could see the shape of some deer, moose, or donkey taking form. Reed was wide awake and jiggling something out of the big weird suitcase. That thing definitely did have a faucet sticking out of one side. The tarp was gone, replaced by a heap of sky. I figured she must’ve removed that part either magically or impeccably slowly, or else I would’ve been up before now.

I stayed motionless inside the quilt, eyeing her as quietly as possible. I didn’t want her to see me move until I was ready to be seen—call it a habit. Whenever I feared she would turn toward me, I winked my eyes closed again. She turned and they slid open.

Reed soon went back to the stone seats, a stick of charcoal and a big sketchpad in her hands. Watching her look up at the scenery, then look down at the paper and work again, sketching in wide arcs at such a leisurely pace…it was soothing. Rarely in my two lives had I let myself rest and simply be soothed.

Inadvertently, she was giving me another gift.

This upset me. It didn’t feel fair. She was giving me stuff and getting nothing in return. This unbalanced state of affairs made me feel…competitive.

I began to wonder. Reed had begun to teach me what things she liked. If these things had included “eating raw baby birds,” I could have slipped out and delivered a bird to her feet on a dime. Somehow that didn’t seem adequate.

Humans liked surprise parties and laughter. Could there be a way to surprise Reed like I did last night, like by Evolving and then transforming before her eyes? Not to prank her, but just to show her, like, a nice surprise? Or would that be, in fact, an un-nice surprise? Did the appearance of nakedness transcend categories of “good” and “bad,” becoming a cruel, illegal prank regardless of intent, much like streaking?

And, um, why was I thinking about this particular thing anyway? Why did my thoughts even drift this way, why try to present my naked human-ish body to a human in the first place?

As a cat, I didn’t feel embarrassment or shame about these things. But I was becoming aware that when I did assume nekomata form, something in my emotions changed in a way I couldn’t quite place. It was as if whenever I was a cat by Reed’s side, I wanted to coexist with her. But as a humanoid in front of her, every move was nerve-wracking. Like it could have consequences that were at once cosmic and personal.

And I didn’t feel it right now as a cat. It was hard to even summon it to memory, as if it had been entirely bound to the high tension, or some weird temporary charge in my brain.

All these things and more tumbled into my mind as I eyed Reed.

…I was definitely overcomplicating things. Maybe there was something both simpler and funner I could try. Like more Inventory shenanigans? I did have some extra slots now. Or—or maybe something that involved touching. A poke on the back? Or maybe a—

I sneezed.

Reed froze.

I dove into the quilt like a prairie dog running into their burrow, scratching my way through until I’d squeezed into its deepest pocket farthest from the exit, my paws on my head.

Smooth.

I’d almost had a chance to act natural, or even to spin the sneeze off into an I-meant-to-do-that kind of trick, but I had to go and be…

Shy?

I was not used to seeing myself that way.

“Are you in there?” Reed said, outside and close.

An inordinate amount of frustration raced through my body.

Reed wasn’t moving, and she was probably such a salt-of-the-earth type that she wouldn’t move, to be polite. She was nice, she had only ever proven herself to be nice. Surely she didn’t mind the fact that I’d stuck myself in this weird position, either!

And yet—I wasn’t thinking logically at that moment. I just felt like I was trapped, and like I needed to escape this weird social situation. I did what any instinct-driven animal would do and got myself out of there as fast as possible, only in a way that was jumbled and…inconvenient.

I Leaped, but in the wrong direction.

With an aura-ful charge of my hind legs, I launched myself straight at the wall of the quilt, half hoping I would at least burst through, but ending up tumbling and taking the whole thing with me. The world around me was slanting—no, I was rolling.

Ugh! Ugh!! Uuuuugh!!!

After seconds spent trying and failing to jump out, I stopped moving entirely, letting the rolling quilt take me. The bumps and rocks of the ground below-above-beside me jolted me to the bone, but I let it happen. Because if this was how the universe was gonna treat me—if my instincts this morning were going to be my worst enemy—then the best action to take was no action at all.

Reed’s confused cries and footsteps had died away several seconds ago. Now it was just earth and grass taking me down the side of an entire mountain.

During the trip, I stared into the quilt wall, watching it collect little rips and tears. I knew I had nothing and no one to blame for this but myself.

I’d expected the quilt to drop me off at a steep slope, or maybe against an unforgiving rock wall. Instead, it rolled me out into the early dawn when there was still a stretch of mountain to go. The cozy dirty quilt fluttered off behind me, but I kept on going.

A better instinct kicked in. I could right myself, act fast, and hold onto something so I didn’t fall further and scrape off any more HP. If I used the Skill at the right moment, I could even Leap up the slope, or sideways along it, to slow myself down! Maybe Meditate?!

Before I could act on any of that, I landed back-first in a puddle so deep that only the tips of my paws stuck out.

At least the water wasn’t cold.

I stayed under the gross, boggy water until I needed to breathe. Then I slowly rolled myself onto my side, then my feet, and crawled out feeling like a primordial beast. I shook out all the water I could, but the smell of this puddle wasn’t leaving me for hours.

HP: 93% (214/230)
SP: 84% (155/185)

Well…

The way I saw it, I had two options: go back to training and wandering the Vencian Wood, alone, or go back to Reed.

Ugh. No, not that second one. I’d run away from her suddenly. And inadvertently stolen her quilt.

I could go back for it—

Ugh again! My face felt hot, and I physically turned away, as if the thought was a thing I could see in front of me. The quilt was probably gone by now. A predator had to be chewing it up. Besides, the quilt had been wrecked. I’d wrecked it. Imagine a kid giving you back a vase they’d broken, in pieces.

…And carrying a quilt around would take up one of my valuable Inventory slots.

…Ugh a third time. I knew I had to do it.

The idea of seeing Reed again right now filled me with a mix of shame and run-away adrenaline. But the idea of her quilt just gave me guilt. I was only a cat, and she might not expect me to give back stuff I stole, but it was the absolute least I could do, right?

I looked guiltily up the slope for a few minutes. Then I crept up, fighting every step of the way with the voice in my head that told me to move on.

Reed’s quilt was caught on a tree stump—a sharp, uneven, kinda scary one. Except for a single beetle dancing on its edge, the animals of the wilderness were completely ignoring the quilt. It was damp all over, scuffed, and ripped. I put it in my Inventory.

I also slapped the beetle.

EXP: 74% (1117/1500)

That one must have given me a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent.

Then I bounded down the mountain again. Goodbye, Reed. See you again on my own terms.

***

When I reached a clearing at the foot of the mountain, the morning sun had officially risen. Baking the water off my back, reminding my discombobulated self which way was east. It was a comfort.

It helped me to focus on myself again. To focus on survival again.

No, to focus on being my best self—my own lone best self, in isolation. Not surviving, but thriving! Not survival, but thrival?

To simply focus on what made me feel fulfilled.

I found a big flat rock and hissed at the line of ants walking across it. They didn’t listen, so I swatted them clear (which, by the way, did bump my Experience up noticeably—by a single percentage point but a full one). Then I crawled on the rock and stretched.

Ah, so good. Lying on that rock was like sunbathing on a grill.

Current Location: ??? (S.A2)

I was just south of Reed’s Mountain. (That was a place name I was beginning to regret.) And I was on just one undiscovered Map square out of…how many?

Quest: Explore the Vencian Wood
Progress: 13% (4/30)

Twenty-six.

And it used to be thirty. That “thirty” had seemed like such a big number at first. A tyrannical, imposing, impossible number.

And yet I’d already explored four of those squares in the span of how many days again? About a week.

Let’s set a new goal, eh, Taipha?

A new mini-challenge. I’d go as far south as I could—and try to scout out those other mountains, the ones I’d seen on my way to the So-Called Beacon That Was Technically Really a Chapel, Apparently. The mountains so tall that they almost looked like the blue lady’s blue hat.

And I’d get so strong and high-Leveled that maintaining my nekomata form whenever I chose to use it wouldn’t be any trouble. And I might even get that form to talk more easily, so that I’d be able to ask questions, make smarter, more worldly decisions. Then I could explore even more than these woods—I could really explore…

My life?

It was hard to believe I’d reached that conclusion. Apparently being a silly exploring loner cat was no longer enough for me? When had that happened? And was the change recent, or had it started days ago?

Regardless…I guessed I really was becoming human.