*gurgle*

I breathed out, the air escaping from the hole in my throat in wretched whinges. I was alive... theoretically, and the rat before me spasmed its last, before setting into a messy death of combat. Glancing at the dead rodent, I gave another gurgled sigh. Vermin or not, a vicious creature or not... It was still a living critter, and a bang of empathy was felt as I glanced at its beady black eyes, now eternally open in frozen agony. Brought deliberately by my attack. 

I glanced away, and focused. I did the right thing. And judging by the hole ripped in my throat, it was as honorable a death as a rat could have. And focusing on that hole, that felt it had tore fur, skin, muscle and a bit of my air pipe, I wondered how the hell I could even repair it with only my surface level of anatomical understanding.

Still, i made an attempt. With a focusing on my mind on "repair", I willed the responsive heavy mass in my body toward it... And that same cumbersome mass sluggishly expanded out, and blocked my throat. The willful flesh expanded out, covered the ripped wound, and bubbled sickeningly. 

Before i could even start thinking about giving it more direct imagined orders, the mass took shape, hollowing where needed in the air-pipe, and attaching and knitting the neck muscles back in place. Last it covered it all with a bit skin, from witch hair sprung out... stopping its growth just to grow even with rest of my coat.

...

I... commanded none of this, yet. This body of mine seemed to have restored the wound to a... default I seem to have been stuck in. On the same way, the slacked, dislocated jaw of mine re-connected with a sickening crack into place once more. Breathing in once more, this time without extra ventilation, I felt my body restored. Right... Another thing to investigate later.

Now healed, I felt the mass in me decrease from the effort... Nothing comes for free, it seems. And before me is a carcass of a rat half my size and a vermin-nibbled dried fish. A sickening thing to devour I imagine, but... It would be an insult to the hunted to not make use of its flesh in full.

(...)

The night-watchman yawned as he stepped through the front door of his home. Another patrol completed, as the sun was slowly rising behind him as he shut the front door. Another night spent, lantern on hand. Blessedly, less hectic than yesternight, with only a few drunks needing a reminder to keep their brawls within norms of civilized society. That more than a few of those drunks were his own colleagues, already drinking away their reward for yesterday did sour his mood a bit. His off-days are still too far away for him to follow his fellows in revelry and celebration.

With habitual movements, he turned off the lantern, set the simple iron-headed mace to the side of the room, and took off the chainmail shirt and red sash tied around his belt. With lazy steps, he approached the modest kitchenette.

Entering, his eyes widened. The cat he had adopted yesterday sat on the floor, painted red on its muzzle, as the tail of a rat quickly disappeared into its mouth with energetic crunches. The floor around it was fouled by a a dried darkish pool of blood, sticking to its paws and a nearby piece of fish. 

The mans blue eyes met the creatures amber ones, as the cat looked up with... what appeared to be a slightly embarrassed glint in its eyes, as it swallowed the last rat-bit. 

The watchman gave a hearty chuckle, bending down to pet the blood-covered feline.

"Already working on the first night, Scratch-eyes?"

The cat flicked its ear, staring back without acknowledging the compliment, as felines are wont to do. With a smile, the man picked up the blood-dirtied fish on the floor, and offered it to the cat.

"Il make a night-watchman out of you yet. Have a treat."

The gray cat sniffed the fish, before quickly picking it up with its bite and skittering out of the room, leaving a trail of red paw-prints leading toward the coffer. The man laughed, as he reached toward a rag, and wetted it.

"Messy little glutton"

(...)

I retreated with the fish once more into my haven, a small crack between a heavy wooden chest and the wall. 

"Mɘƨƨγ littlɘ ϱlυtton"

The giant of a man, the master of this house had left me be. I could not understand a word he said, but... He gave fish, so things must be fine. A puzzle is this language of his... Not a word of it sounds remotely familiar. But, i can learn. One-word at a time, listening and observing. But...

Who would talk to a cat? What would that person even say that would be comprehendible?... Toddler!

The child! Its young! It still babbles! The parents will speak to it, will teach it! Maybe i can pick up things from them by observing the child in its day. But that is for the future. For now, a half-nibbled fish, and a whole rat to compare.

Focusing on the vermin consumed... My whole belly and chest are now filled with that heavy flesh. By feeling of weight alone... It seems the moment i consumed the rat, nearly every bit of its mass was made into "my" flesh. I felt nearly half more heavy, despite only a small bulge on my stomach being the only difference in my size...

Wonderful! Maybe i learned a more efficient way to eat? Maybe i can get enough flesh to build a body sooner than just swallowing barrel-fulls of fish! With gusto, i bit and ripped into the spoiled dry-food, it transforming nearly instantaneously its down my throat into new mass. And finishing the last of it, i took stock once more.

And... the fish gave only a tenth of its weight more to me once eaten. As the first time.

...

Maybe, its the fish that is a bad food to convert... Or maybe its that its not fresh, but processed... Needs more testing, but what is certain is that rat-hunting is a damn good way to get gains. And gains are a must, to leave behind this life of an amateur rat-catcher. 

*clack* "ʜɘɿɘ γoυ ϱo, ϱlυtton"

The sound of steps leaving the room followed. I peeked out from behind the coffer, and saw a bowl of water placed right before me. That's nice. I like him. With confirming I'm left alone in the room once more, i dip my paws into the bowl, and start wiping the now flakey and sticky blood off me. I may be a cat, but by damn will i reduce myself to licking myself to get clean. I am just... a temporarily embarrassed human, after all.