She nodded, and curled her tail around her body.

I started to tug the blanket from the bed beneath me, but stopped when the tabby started growling. Again. “Sorry.” You must not be too cold.

“You know, I like to talk as much as the next girl, but conversation really is a two-player game. I’d love it if you could Shift back and talk to me. Maybe tell me your name? You do have a name?”

She nodded again.

“Good. I’d love to hear it. So, you feel like Shifting back?” I leaned forward in anticipation of an answer.

The tabby’s head tilted to one side again, and my fingernails bit into my palms in frustration. What didn’t she understand? These were not hard questions!

“Okay, let’s see if we can figure out where we’re going wrong. ’Kay?” She nodded, so I continued, twisting one corner of the blanket between my fingers. “You have a name. Do you want to tell me your name?”

Another nod.

Good. She was still trying to cooperate. “You’re gonna have to Shift to tell me your name, because I’m really no good at charades. And honestly, I’d much rather hear your voice. So…do you want to Shift?”

Again she cocked her head to one side, this time following the familiar gesture with a whine of frustration. I knew exactly how she felt.

Hmm. She looks confused when I mention Shifting. Maybe her Pride called it something different. That was pretty unlikely, if she was born in North America. But then, if she were a North American cat, I’d probably already know who she was.

“Do you know what I mean by ‘Shift’? Do you know what I’m asking you to do?” We were close to a breakthrough; I could feel it.

She shook her head firmly from side to side, sitting straighter, as if eager for my explanation.

I didn’t even know I was holding my breath until it burst from my throat. Now we’re getting somewhere. The problem lay with the terminology. “I’m talking about your transformation. Changing yourself from cat form to human form. We call it Shifting. I want you to Shift into your human form so we can talk like people, without all this nodding and whining. Does that help?”

The tabby shook her head again, and my own fell into my palms with the dull slap of flesh against flesh. “I don’t know how else to say it. I need you to Shift. Just…turn yourself back into a human.” My hands flailed in the air, in search of a gesture to get my meaning across. “You know…hands, semi-opposable thumbs, articulate tongue, the whole thing. Now. Please.”

Instead of answering, the tabby lowered her head to the floor and curled into a ball. She wasn’t even looking at me anymore. I’d been dismissed. Damn it.