“Dead.” The stranger’s tail swished once. “Like you.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
The certainty behind those two words caused Solstice’s protest to die in her throat.
Their ears flicked. “I can smell it on you. Fresh death. Hours old.” A pause. “Maybe a day.”
Dead.
The word settled like a weight in Solstice’s chest.
“I don’t…” Her voice shook. “I don’t understand.”
The stranger said nothing. Just studied Solstice with those burning yellow eyes, the way fire smiles at dry wood.
Solstice’s legs finally gave out. She sat down hard, her puffed fur starting to deflate, exhaustion crashing over her like a wave. The pain, nearly forgotten during the chase, came back with grim resolve to remind her.
“I want to go home,” she whispered. “I want to go back INSIDE.”
Their expression didn’t change.
“There is no INSIDE anymore.”
The words landed like stones.
No. No that can’t be right. The fathers are home.
Solstice’s chest tightened. Her breathing hitched.
The bedroom is there. Smoke, Ducati, and Coffey are there.
It has to be there.
“The tunnel—” Solstice looked around desperately. “The tunnel brought me here. It can take me back. I just need to find—”
The sound that came from the stranger made Solstice’s whiskers pull back on instinct. She looked up.
And those dreadful eyes caught her. The yellow of wheat fields right before the locusts arrive.
She could not look away.
Cold crept through her paws — the biting kind. The kind that means something beneath you is about to give.
Each word that followed chipped away at the mistake.
“I have harvested entire generations of the lost, and still it denies me an audience.”
Crack.
“It does not come. It does not explain itself. It does not negotiate.”
Crack.
A pause that had teeth in it.
“It simply leaves.”
Solstice’s breath seized.
Every muscle locked.
The cold hit all at once—not from outside, but from within, flooding through her like she’d been swallowed by the deep dark—and for one terrible moment she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but sit there, eyes wide, lungs forgotten.
Those yellow eyes released her.
“As it has left you.”
The stranger stood and turned to depart.
“Wait—”
The word burst out before Solstice could stop it.
They paused. Looked back. Those yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, as if she’d just caught something precious and easily broken.
“Why?”
Solstice opened her mouth. Closed it. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what she needed. Just knew that being alone in this darkness was worse than being with this terrifying stranger.
“I don’t…” Her voice came out small. “I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what to do.”
The tortoiseshell studied her for a long moment.
Then sighed.
“You are nowhere.” She sat back down. Not close. A careful distance away. “Where the abandoned arrive. Where things end up when they do not belong anywhere else.”
“I’m not abandoned.” The words came out defensive. “The fathers—”
“Are alive.” Their voice went soft. Almost gentle. “And you are not. That is abandonment.”
No.
But Solstice couldn’t find the words to argue. Couldn’t find anything to say that would make it less true.
The other cat’s gaze drifted past Solstice, into the darkness.
“I have been here a long time.” Their voice was distant. “Long enough to know how it works. Long enough to know what happens to the new ones who wander alone.”
“What happens?”
“They stay lost.” Those yellow eyes refocused on Solstice. “And they get eaten.”
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Solstice’s fur tried to puff again, but she was too exhausted. “Eaten by what?”
“By whatever finds them first.”
The older cat stood again. “You are exhausted. Useless like this.”
She turned and padded into the darkness.
“Wait—where are you going?”
“Investing.”
Solstice tilted her head.
“In you.”
“Don’t—” Solstice scrambled to her feet. “Don’t leave me here. Please.”
The stranger paused. Looking back for a moment.
“Stay there. Do not stray.”
Then she vanished into the shadows.
Solstice stood there, swaying, her heart hammering. Every sound made her jump. Every shifting shadow made her fur rise.
She’s coming back. She said to stay. She’s coming back, right?
Minutes passed. Or hours. Time felt wrong in this place. Stretched. Distorted.
Then—footsteps.
Solstice spun toward the sound.
The stranger emerged from the darkness, something limp in their jaws. She padded over and dropped it at Solstice’s feet.
A toad. Large and heavy. It had substance in a way the trees and grass didn’t.
Real. Dead. Food.
“Eat.”
Solstice stared at it. Then at them.
“I—”
“Eat.” The black tortoiseshell sat down. “You are no use to me dead-dead.”
Dead-dead?
But her stomach twisted with sudden, desperate hunger. She looked down at the toad.
It smelled like food. Like meat. Like something real.
She tore into it.
The flesh gave easily beneath her teeth—softer than it should be, dissolving as she chewed. This was different. Wrong but also right. She ate, barely thinking, just consuming.
Something warm spread through her chest. Through her limbs. Like filling up from the inside. Like pouring water into an empty vessel she hadn’t known was there.
The exhaustion that had been crushing her lifted. Not gone completely, but manageable now. Distant.
She looked down.
No blood. No bones. No remains.
Just grass.
What—
She looked up, but those yellow eyes were watching her. Considering. Calculating. And Solstice didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know what it meant that the toad had just… dissolved.
“Better?” The word was almost kind.
Solstice nodded. She felt steadier. Less like she might collapse.
“Good.”
Silence stretched between them.
Their tail swished once. “You said ‘fathers.’ Plural.”
“Uh huh. I have two fathers.” The words came out automatically. Why was she answering? “Short Father and Bearded Father.”
“Hmmm.” The other cat settled into a loaf position. “And they kept you inside?”
“They keep me safe.” Defensive again. “Because of my… uh, my pee tea ess dee.”
“PTSD?”
“I get scared sometimes. React badly. The vet said I have a chemical imbalance. That my brain is wired wrong.”
The stranger was quiet for a moment.
“Your brain is fine.” Soft. Almost gentle. “Just careful. Protective.”
Something warm uncurled in Solstice’s chest.
“The fathers said that too.” Her voice came out thick. “They said I am purrfect just the way I am.”
“They were right.”
The validation hit harder than it should have. Solstice’s eyes stung.
“Back home, I have so many different kinds of brothers and sisters to play with,” she said, and suddenly she couldn’t stop talking. The words just poured out. “There is Smoke and Ducati—they are cats like me. We all came from different places, but the fathers brought us together.”
She took a breath to carry on.
“There are snakes and mice, ummm, a climbing lizard with weird eyes, a flat spikey boy, and, umm, oh, a sleepy leopard. And… uhhh, oh, Luna. She was the matron cat, and she hated Ducati because Ducati came from the gutter and Luna thought that made her dirty or something, so she wouldn’t even use the same litter box after Du—”
Thwap!
Her tail hit her. The impact carried meaning.
—Stop talking—
But the words kept coming.
“—ca-ti, which is just cra-zy because I love fresh litter, that’s one of my favorite things, fresh litter and the smell of bleach, oh and when they’d mop I’d get my whole face on the wet floor, it smelled SO GOOD, but they’d always go ‘no, Solstice, stop, that’s cleaning solution’ but I didn’t care—”
THWAP THWAP!
She glared at her tail but couldn’t stop.
The black tortoiseshell settled into a loaf, ears forward, listening. Watching. Like Solstice was the most interesting thing she’d seen in a long time.
“Oh, and there was Coffey. He’s—uhh he—” She stared off into the void, waiting for the word to come back to her. “—a dog. A service dog. He helped Short Father with his big feelings.”
When Solstice finally ran out of words, breathing hard, the stranger tilted their head.
“A… service dog?” Quiet. “One of your fathers had difficulties.”
“Not difficulties.” Solstice’s ears flattened. “Short Father’s brain just works differently sometimes. Gets too loud. Coffey helps make it quiet.”
“Mmm.” A slow nod. “And you all lived together. In a house.”
“Two floors.” The words came easier now. Less frantic. “With stairs covered in scratching material—so good for climbing—and windows everywhere. The dog could leave with the fathers but we had to stay inside. Because it’s safer.”
Their yellow eyes glinted. “MmHmm.”
Something in that tone made Solstice’s fur prickle.
“It was,” she insisted. “The fathers protected us. Kept us safe from… From—”
“From what?”
“From…” Solstice’s thoughts scrambled. “From dangerous things. From getting lost. From—”
From dying?
But she’d died anyway. Inside a different house. In a strange bedroom. Where it was supposed to be safe.
Those yellow eyes seemed to read Solstice’s thoughts.
“Safe from dying.” The other cat whispered the words, almost to herself. “Protected. Cared for.” Their eyes sharpened. “And what could have killed something so safe and protected, so cared for, little one?” she asked Solstice.
Solstice’s breath caught.
Images flickered at the edges of her memory. Blurry. Disconnected.
Her tail wrapped tight around her body.
—Don’t—
“I was in that new bedroom,” she said slowly, pushing past the warning. “At my scratching post. By the door. By his bowl.”
“And then?”
Her tail tightened.
—Stop—
“Tags.” The word came out sharp. Her claws dug into the not-grass without her meaning to. “I heard tags jingling. And then…”
THWAP!
—DON’T—
“Movement,” she whispered. “Something big. Coming towards me. I remember things… breaking? Being on the bed somehow. I don’t know how I got there.”
Her claws ripped through the not-grass. Tearing. Shredding.
“And then pain.” Her voice dropped. “Sharp. Under my chest. Like I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t—”
She stopped. Her whole body was shaking.
“I don’t…” Solstice’s voice broke. “There’s just… nothing after that. And then the tunnel. And the mice. And I followed them and ended up here.”
“Mice.” The stranger was quiet for a long moment. “You followed mice.”
“Yeah, their droppings.” Solstice looked up. “In the tunnel. They went this way, so I went this way too. Because cats follow mice.”
Something flickered across the older cat’s face. Too quick to read.
“Yes. We… do.”
The words came out soft. Almost broken.
Silence settled between them again.
Solstice’s exhaustion was creeping back. The food had helped, but everything still hurt. Her head throbbed where she’d hit the tree root. Her legs ached from running.
She was so tired.
“What’s your name?” The question came out before she could stop herself.
“Oh… my. It seems my manners have atrophied.”
The stranger’s ears flicked before she stood up. Slow. Deliberate. Their tail rose high—almost regal—those yellow eyes glinted in the darkness, dancing with a joke only predators understood.
“The residents of the Vivids bestowed a name upon me that I have grown fond of over the years.”
A pause.
“You may call me Malice.”
The word settled between them like a weight.
“Malice,” Solstice repeated quietly.
Not a name like “Solstice” or “Smoke” or “Ducati.” Not something given by loving hands. Something earned. Something claimed. Something that meant exactly what it sounded like.
Malice.
“Welcome to the Nowhere, Solstice.”
Their tail swished once—a slow, deliberate arc through the void.
Solstice went still—captivated.
And then Malice grinned.
Not friendly. Not warm.
Predatory.
The grin of something that had decided you were worth keeping alive.
For now.
I am seeking feedback. Please take a moment to answer the following questions, or share anything else you'd like. Thank you.
- Did the conversation with Malice hold your attention—or did you start skimming during the talking parts after the chase?
- When Solstice remembered the tags jingling and the pain under her chest—did that moment feel like a punch to the gut, or frustratingly vague?
- Did Malice feel intriguing (someone you want to know more about) or confusing (hard to pin down her motives)?