Claws
I was once a man, but then I was turned into a cat.
You heard that right—a cat.
Not even a mysterious, black cat, either.
Not a ferocious lion or panther, but a domestic orange cat...well, not that domestic.
I had no home, but I wasn’t feral.
I could fight right alongside the others, but I was far away from home.
The hag who’d turned me was going to pay for what she’d done, but I could never find her.
I was tormented day and night by the transition until I thought I’d found a home.
What home would take me in, though?
I didn’t try to plump myself up because then people thought I was domestic and I didn’t want to be scrawny because then I looked sick.
I just wanted to go back to my druids and my satyr family, but the portal I’d been tossed out of didn’t exist anymore and now I was..
In Hell..on Earth.
“Shoo! Go away!”
Yes, my life was perfect before I was turned. I wasn’t extremely happy, but I wasn’t unhappy.
The word might be content.
I had no mate while all of my brothers did and my parents wanted me to find true love—a satyr princess, if I remembered correctly.
I hunted now—but not like I used to.
I was practically feral by the time I jumped the subway car to the Bronx.
No one even noticed me, but why would they?
I was just a cat—not the almost 7 foot satyr from Daffodil Hill was I?
The day I thought I sensed what I thought was my mate was a joy, but I also thought I was home.
I had been awakened by a man pushing a cart down the street and then hissing at me as humans will.
Humans—such vile creatures I had only read about in books.
“You nasty ass cat..Get before I chop your balls off.”
I scurried away.
There would be no ball-chopping that day.
