Were the demon cats somewhere around here? She didn’t see or hear anything besides the man and woman. They were talking again, and the woman moved back a few paces. In a few graceful movements, she stepped out of her trousers and untied her tunic, letting it fall behind her.

Kyra blinked. Her eyes were failing; she couldn’t make out the woman’s features anymore. Then she realized it wasn’t her vision. The woman’s entire shape was blurring and expanding. Her torso lengthened and the skin of her body became soft with thick yellow hairs. Her face changed as well. The nose became broad and flat, eyes larger and more angular, and her teeth grew and sharpened into fangs. Soon, the woman had disappeared, and in her place stood a giant yellow wildcat. The beast shook itself and advanced toward her.

Kyra screamed and once again tried to move. This time, the sight of the creature gave her strength, and she lifted herself onto one elbow despite the searing pain in her abdomen.

“Don’t move,” the man shouted, and jumped down, pinning her shoulders with his forearm. She squirmed. A soft weight pressed on her hip—the demon cat’s paw, she realized with growing panic. She kicked vainly into the air before her strength left her and she lay, exhausted, watching with muted horror as the cat bared its teeth and lowered its head to her abdomen.

There was the sound of ripping cloth, and more pain. She shuddered, but the man’s weight on her shoulders and the cat’s on her hip held her firmly. Her stomach felt warm and wet. Was she bleeding again?

The moment of clarity faded, and her thoughts once again clouded from pain and blood loss. She was glad though, because there was no way she could survive this for much longer. It would be over before long, she told herself, and sure enough, everything soon faded.

Kyra floated in and out of nightmares. Sometimes the cat people carried her through the forest. Other times, they chased her, held her down, and fed on her entrails. At one point, someone forced her mouth open. Kyra gagged at the taste of blood and spat out what they fed her. The next time, they held broth to her lips. It scorched her tongue, but she kept it down.

Slowly, the world reassembled itself. She wasn’t dead. She hurt too much for that. And eventually her eyes stayed open. She lay in a makeshift shelter, a cloth strung between two trees. She felt cloth beneath her too, but it wasn’t thick enough to keep roots and stones from digging into her back.