Pain sat in her chest like a stone. Heavy. Immovable.
Not from the power itself. That was amazing. Incredible.
But what she was allowed to observe…
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the dirt. “I’m so sorry, brother.”
The Nowhere absorbed her words. Gave nothing back.
She wanted to try again. Wanted to look longer. Wanted to see if he was okay, if he’d come out of the carrier eventually, if—
But she couldn’t.
Not yet.
The feelings. Endless. Consuming. It all hurt too much.
She stayed there, letting it press into her. The big feelings had nowhere to go in this place.
Time passed. Or didn’t. The Nowhere made it impossible to tell. The light stayed the same dim nothing-color. The air retained its stale, motionless quality.
Her forehead stayed pressed against the dirt. She didn’t have the strength to lift it. Didn’t want to try. Maybe she would remain here forever. Curled up. Small. Letting it press her into the colorless grass until she was buried. Until she was nothing.
—NO—
The word came firm. Definite.
—Breathe—
—In and out. In… then out.—
The grief didn’t fade. Didn’t lessen. Just… existed. Like the colorless grass. Like everything else in this place that simply was without changing.
In. Out. Innn… Ouuut.
Time stopped meaning anything.
Slowly—so slowly she didn’t notice it happening—the weight began to lift.
Not gone. Still there. But less crushing. Less immediate.
Like the feelings were getting tired of pressing down on her, and needed a break.
That pain still hurt. Still big. But it wasn’t drowning her anymore.
She could think around it now. Could hold other thoughts alongside it instead of having the grief swallow everything.
She turned her head slightly, looking at the colorless grass pressed against her face. Individual blades, if they were blades. They looked like grass. Had the shape of grass. But wrong somehow. Flat. Lifeless.
Not like the plants at home.
The thought drifted past without weight. Without urgency.
Everything felt distant now. Muted. Like she was wrapped in something soft that kept the sharp edges away.
The memory slipped through before she could stop it. The plants Short Father kept everywhere. Green things in pots. Trailing things on shelves. The tall ones by the windows that she would—
Her claws extended slightly into the not-grass.
She’d eaten plants. All the time. Even when the fathers said, “No, Solstice, that one’s not for kitties,” or “Baby girl, you’re going to make yourself sick.”
But she never got sick.
She just… liked them. The texture. The taste. The way the leaves crunched between her teeth or the satisfying snap when she bit through a stem.
Spider plants were best. Long and dangling and perfect for batting first, then chomping. The fathers had given up trying to keep them out of reach. They’d just accepted that any spider plant in the house was also Solstice’s personal salad bar.
Oh… and the succulents. Thick leaves that were so satisfying to bite. They’d make this little pop sound when her teeth went through.
But the tastiest one was that big leafy plant by the window—she’d systematically worked her way through every bottom leaf within reach. The fathers had eventually moved it. But she’d found it again and again.
She always found them.
Solstice’s breathing became fuller. The memory felt… safe. Smaller. Not like the big crushing grief of seeing Smoke. Just a simple thing. Plants. Chomping. Normal cat behavior that made the fathers sigh and shake their heads but never really got mad about.
“Are you going to eat every plant in this house?” the Bearded Father had asked once, watching her systematically destroy the newest offering.
She’d paused. Looked at him, looked back at the leaf. And took another bite.
He’d laughed the louder for it.
The memory made something twist in her chest, but gentler this time. Less sharp.
She shifted slightly. Her paw pressed down on a blade.
It didn’t bend right. Didn’t compress and spring back the way real grass did. Just… flattened. Stayed flat. Like it forgot it was supposed to have structure.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
She wondered what would happen if she tried to eat it.
Probably nothing. It wasn’t real grass. Wasn’t real anything.
But maybe…
Solstice opened her mouth. Bit down on a blade of the not-grass.
It tasted like nothing. Like air. Like the absence of taste.
She bit down harder. Pulled. The grass came away but felt wrong in her mouth—there but not there, present but weightless. Like someone had described grass to her but had never actually chewed it.
She spat it out.
Not satisfying at all.
She twisted her head, pressing her other cheek into the ground.
The puddle sat there. Patient. Waiting. Ready to hurt her again.
Reflecting the non-sky above. Dark. Empty. Offering her nothing.
But Solstice wasn’t ready. Not for that. Not yet.
She’d learned something powerful today. Something special.
And all it gave her was the weight of missing.
She would stay here. Just stay. Let the Nowhere hold her while the pain squashed her heart into paste.
Nothing required her to move.
Nothing required her to—
Something rustled in the darkness.
Solstice’s ear swiveled toward the sound before her head lifted.
Just the wind, probably. Or the nothing moving around like nothing did. So… nothing to worry about. Right?
Another rustle. Closer. More deliberate.
Her body started paying attention even though her mind was still wrapped in cotton.
Her tail twitched.
—Something is moving out there. Something with weight—
Her head lifted fully now, eyes searching the dim landscape.
Movement. Low to the ground.
Solstice’s entire body went still.
Every muscle in her body shifted from grief-heavy to hunt-ready without her conscious decision. This was deeper than thought. Older than memory.
Something small was moving.
And cats noticed small moving things.
The shape hopped closer. Into the slightly-better light near the puddle.
Shiny. Lumpy. With bulging eyes that caught what little illumination existed in this place.
A frog?
Solstice’s haunches lifted slightly. Her weight shifted onto her back legs.
The frog sat there. Unbothered. Unaware it was being watched by a predator.
Hop.
It moved toward the puddle. HER puddle.
Solstice’s whiskers swept forward. Her pupils dilated. Everything—the grief, the pain, Smoke in her carrier—faded into background noise as the ancient cat-brain took over.
—Small thing. Moving thing. Catchable thing—
Hop.
Her body coiled tighter.
Hop.
The frog reached the water’s edge. And sat there, staring.
Does it see me? No. Why would it come closer if it did? But if it can’t see me—
Solstice pounced.
Her body moved before her thoughts caught up. Front paws extended. Claws out. Landing exactly where the frog had been a split-second before.
The frog leaped away with a startled ribbit, splashing into the puddle.
“No!” Solstice lunged after it. “Get back here!”
The frog dove deeper. Or tried to—the puddle wasn’t that deep. It basically just pressed itself against the bottom, looking up at her with those bulging eyes.
Solstice shoved her paw into the water. Swiped. Missed.
The frog shot out the other side of the puddle.
She scrambled around the edge, paws slipping slightly on the wet ground. “Stop MOVING!”
Ribbit.
It landed in the grass several tail-lengths away.
Solstice charged after it, all four paws churning. The frog hopped again. She pounced and missed again. Every single time. It would hop left as she pounced right.
“This is—” pounce “—completely—” miss “—UNFAIR!”
The frog, unbothered by her outrage, hopped onto a low branch.
“Khiiisss! Fuck!” Solstice skidded to a halt beneath it, staring up.
The frog stared down.
“You can’t just—” she panted. “That’s what I do. I’M the one who climbs things.”
Ribbit.
“Don’t you sass me.”
The frog’s throat inflated. Deflated.
Malice’s voice echoed in her head. “Useless if you can’t control it. What good is jumping into someone’s perspective if you lose your own body?”
—Not useless. Just unpracticed—
Time to use my… my Extra Sight.
She made her eyes do the thing—big and round and shiny.
The connection snapped into place immediately. She pushed her awareness into it—
Into eyes that saw the world in a completely different way. Everything was motion and shadow. Colors she didn’t have names for. The air itself had texture, vibrating against sensitive skin.
The frog shifted, then hopped to another branch in the tree.
And Solstice’s whole body—hopped slightly.
Just a tiny hop. Barely left the ground.
What!
The frog hopped further.
Solstice felt herself hop again.
“What are you doing?”
Solstice yelped and lost the connection entirely. She spun toward the voice, heart hammering.
Malice stood at the edge of the clearing. Her yellow eyes tracked from Solstice, who was under a tree, to the puddle and back again.
“I—I was practicing!” Solstice’s ears flattened defensively. “Like you said. Learning to control it.”
“By hopping?”
“I was in a frog!” The words tumbled out. “I could see through its eyes and feel how it moved and when it hopped I just—I couldn’t help it, I hopped too.”
Malice stared at her.
Then the corner of her mouth twitched.
“You were riding a frog.”
“I was PRACTICING my talent.”
“You were having fun.” Malice’s voice held something that wasn’t quite amusement. Wasn’t quite mockery—something in between.
“I—” Solstice’s tail lashed once. “Maybe a little.”
“Mmm.” Malice approached slowly, deliberately. “Show me.”
“Show you?”
“Find the frog again. Let me see you hop.”
Heat crept through Solstice’s fur. “It’s not—I don’t do it on purpose—”
“Show me.” Not a request.
Solstice turned back to the tree. Settled into her loaf position as she searched. Once she spotted it again, her eyes went big and round.
The connection was slower to form.
Thinner? Too far away? Or maybe I didn’t stare at its eyes long enough—
Then—shift.
The world became motion and vibration. She could feel the frog’s muscles coiled, ready. Could feel it preparing to—
HOP.
Solstice’s body mimicked the movement. Just a small hop. Barely cleared the ground.
Behind her, Malice made a sound.
The frog hopped again.
Solstice hopped.
“Stop.” Malice’s voice cut through. “That’s enough.”
Solstice pulled back, breaking the connection. She turned to find Malice watching her with an expression she couldn’t read.
“You really can do it,” Malice said quietly. “Jump into other creatures. See what they see.”
“I told you—”
“I know what you told me.” Malice sat down, tail curling around her paws. “But seeing it is different. You’re barely trying and you’re already riding frogs like they’re—” She paused. “Like they’re just there for your amusement.”
“I wasn’t being mean to it!”
“I did not say you were.” Malice’s yellow eyes gleamed. “But that is power, Soft-paw. Real power. The kind that could keep you alive here. Or get you very, very dead-dead if you are not careful.”
“But you said I needed to control my Extra Sight.”
Malice went very still. Those yellow eyes fixed on Solstice.
“Your… what?” Slow. Deliberate. “Extra… Sight?”
“Yeah.” Solstice’s ears flicked with pride. “Because I can see extra. From extra eyes. It’s extra seeing.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Tsk. Tsk.” Malice’s head tilted, mouth curling into something between disgust and amusement. “You really should put a little more thought into names, Soft-paw. At this rate, the next talent you develop will probably be called something absurd like… ‘Super Mega Paw Smash of Ultimate Destruction.’”
“Ooo, that’s a good one!”
“No.” Sharp. Final. “It is not.”
Solstice’s tail drooped. Her ears laid back. “I mean—that’s not—I wouldn’t actually call it that. That’s a bad name. Very bad.”
“Second Sight.” The correction came quickly. “What you have is a second sight. Seeing through a second set of eyes. Not ‘extra.’ Second.”
She stood, tail swishing once—the topic clearly dismissed.
“But you are correct, you do need to learn to control it.” Malice studied her for a moment, then stood. “And you will. But first, you need to understand what you’re actually doing.” She started walking back in the direction she’d arrived, expecting Solstice to follow. “Come. I am going to teach you something useful.”
“Where are we going?”
“Hunting.”
I am seeking feedback. Please take a moment to answer the following questions, or share anything else you'd like. Thank you.
- After the grief of Chapter 6, did this chapter feel like a necessary breath—or did it pull you out of the emotion too quickly?
- When Solstice started hopping with the frog—did you smile, or did it feel jarring after the sadness of the previous chapter?
- When Malice said "Come. Hunting." at the end—did you feel hopeful about where they're headed together, or uneasy about what might happen next?