be used. All I had to do was concentrate ⦠concentrateâ¦.
Each morphing is different. Especially the first time, when you canât even think about controlling how it happens. Even Cassie canât control the first morph.
In the case of Fluffer, it started with fur. Black fur came first, and then the white fur began to grow. The fur had almost completely grown in while I was still mostly human. I had luxurious fur on my arms. On my legs. On my face. Fur and whiskers, with everything else pretty much the same.
âOh, that is cool!â Cassie said. She was staring at me and grinning this huge grin. âThat is way cool. You look great.â
Marco and Jake nodded agreement.
âItâs kind of weird, but also kind of pretty,â Marco said. âIâm thinking you could do commercials for cat food. You sing a little song, maybe dance a little. You would rule.â
I began to shrink. But it was strange, because as I shrank and my outer clothing slithered off me, I didnât feel like I was getting smaller. I felt more like I was getting stronger.
It was like I was shedding all this unnecessary stuff, these clumsy long legs, these ridiculous weak arms. I felt like Iâd been boiled down to my absolute essentials. Like I wasnât even made out of plain old flesh and bones anymore.
I felt like liquid steel.
I didnât feel the fear of the shrew. I didnât feel the total confidence of the elephant, either, or of the eagle.
This was different. There was fear, sure. But underneath the fear was confidence. The cat knew there were enemies out there, but he also knew he could handle it.
I felt ⦠tough. That was itâtough.
Then the catâs senses started sending messages to my brain.
I yelled in surprise.
âA catâs vision at night is about eight times stronger than a humanâs,â Cassie said helpfully. âI looked it up.â
âEight
times?â Marco repeated. âNot seven, or nine? How do they measure that?â
But it wasnât just how
well
I saw that was strange. It was
what
I noticed.
A human being will notice colors, for example. Now, a cat can see colors, more or less. He just isnât interested in colors. Itâs like, okay, that thing is red. Who cares?
What cats really notice is movement. If anything moves, even the tiniest bit, the cat sees it. I was standing there on the grass, looking around with my big cat eyes, and I saw nothing but movement.
I saw every blade of grass that moved in the breeze. I saw every bug that crawled across those blades of grass. I saw every bird in every tree as it fluffed its wings. And, boy, did I see the mice and the squirrels and the rats.
There was a mouse no more than twenty feet away. I could see the individual whiskers on his little snout when they twitched.
Things that were not moving were boring to me. If the mouse just stayed completely still, I would forget he was even there.
âHow are you doing?â Jake asked me.
I had no trouble at all hearing his voice. But it was irrelevant. It had no meaning. The mouse was making a tiny little scratching sound as it worked its little teeth around a nut, trying to chew it open.
I cared about that sound. I cared about that sound a lot.
âRachel, can you hear us? Itâs me, Cassie.â
âWell, at least sheâs not running around out of control,â Marco said.
Suddenly I sensed something over my head, a shape, a shadow, a figure. Lightning-quick, I turned my head. My ears flattened back against my skull. The hair on my back stood up and my tail puffed out to three times its normal size. My claws extended. I drew back my mouth and showed my teeth.
It all happened in a split second. I
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