I nodded toward the food as I sat cross-legged on the floor, across the plate from her. For several minutes, we ate in silence. In the time it took me to eat a single breast, she polished off a breast and two drumsticks, skin and all, licking the last of the flesh from the second leg bone with one end of it pinned to the floor by her front paw.

She definitely ate like a werecat, even if she seemed to know nothing about us.

Three wings and a thigh later, when the tabby started to slow, I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “I have some more questions, if you’re up to it.” I rocked back and forth slowly as she licked her right front paw, then used it to clean her muzzle. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and a small bud of satisfaction blossomed in my chest—pride in myself for earning her trust, and a little edge of confidence. Or maybe that was heartburn from the chicken…

Inhaling slowly, I crossed my mental fingers, hoping I’d truly hit upon the problem with our method of communication. “Do you know how to Shift?” The tabby’s head swiveled back and forth firmly, and I exhaled. “Do you know what Shifting is?”

This time the tabby nodded, but very slowly. Hesitantly. Just as I’d expected. She let her paw fall to the floor, abandoning her grooming efforts altogether. I had her full attention now that the food was gone.

“Did you know what Shifting was before tonight? Before I came in here to talk to you?”

She shook her head, and I dared a small smile. I was starting to get a clearer picture, though I couldn’t for my life understand how she could have Shifted into werecat form without knowing what Shifting was. Maybe she’d been alone and starving so long she’d contracted some sort of Shifter amnesia. Weirder things have happened, right?

Okay, maybe not.

“Do you remember Shifting into your current form?” I asked. She cocked her head again, punctuating her confusion with a soft whine. Hmm. “Do you remember being a human? A girl, like me?”

The tabby nodded, slowly at first, then more enthusiastically, as if she’d just discovered the very memories I spoke of.

I sat straighter as an exciting possibility pinged through me, making my skin tingle and my heart beat faster.

“Good. Now…do you remember being scratched or bitten by a big black cat?” She shook her head, but I pushed on because even if she had been infected by another werecat, she probably wouldn’t remember the actual attack, or much of what happened next, including scratch fever and her initial Shift.

Her memory loss, while frustrating, was pretty common for newly infected strays and did not, in itself, rule out the possibility that she was one.