The moon was almost in perfect alignment, just a centimeter lower and the ritual could begin. I had been waiting for years for the moon to be at the right place, between the right hours, and within the right season. I hadn't calculated how long it would be until all three pieces would be in place again, but I assumed it might take a few years or even decades. It was a cold night, not quite the heart of winter, but the chilly weather that at the beginning of fall catches you by surprise when you leave your home in the morning. Checking the time on the clock tower again, I nodded with satisfaction to see that indeed everything would fall into place before 3 am, ensuring that the power of the spell would be at it's peak. Preparing, I sauntered to the center of the circle I had carefully drawn. Well, as carefully as one could when trying to manipulate an object to draw with between their teeth.

Eyes to the sky, I held my breath as the moon moved imperceptibly into position, it would not be long, maybe only a minute or so before reaching the proper alignment. Wind whistled lowly through the trees, rustling the yellowing leaves and causing an instinctual twitch of my ears towards the direction of the sound. I let out an internal sigh at the insolence feline bodies had to deal with when trying to complete anything. With so many instinctual reactions to content with, keeping focus and direction was a struggle, though over the years I had become fairly competent with keeping them under control.

The leaves rustled again, only this time it was not accompanied by the chilly breeze through my fur. Despair and disbelief surged through me as my ears swiveled towards the right, where I had heard the sound strongest, nose inhaling deeply for any new scents in the area. I desperately fought the urge to turn and stare in the direction of the noise, but another short rustle lost me the battle and my head snapped in the direction, eyes dilating with anticipation. The musty scent of a rodent hit my nostrils, any sort of control over my actions temporarily escaping me as I hunkered down and began to move stealthily towards the disturbance. The back of my mind screamed for me to let it go and turn back, but the reasonable part of my brain was no longer strong enough to stop the inevitable from occurring.

In the pale moonlight, I saw it. It was a field mouse, no bigger than my paws, trying desperately to stand completely still in hopes the cat it picked up the scent of would not notice its presence. I stalked closer, belly scraping the ground and haunches low, tensed to spring as soon as I was close enough. Soundlessly, I wriggled forward, the irresistible scent of fearful prey wafting through my nose and over the delicate sensors that gave me all sorts of erroneous, but interesting information. The rodent was male, a juvenile, and had last eaten a meal of stale tortilla chips he had likely found next to a campus trashcan. The non-feline part of my brain struggled to find relevancy in having olfactory sensors so precise, but the additional information fed my hunger, driving me to see the hunt to the end.

With a silent burst of speed, all four paws let go of their stored tension, launching me into the air in an arch whose trajectory would place the mouse directly between my front paws. The rodent's eyes locked on me in fear, it's feet stuttering as if to flee, but it had become paralyzed by it's impending doom. Landing with a barely audible “thump,” I snapped my front paws together, claws extended, piercing the rodent's skin on both sides of it's body, holding it tight in front of me. As if snapped out of a trance, the creature squeaked in fear and started to struggle to free itself, accomplishing little more than to open cuts deeply around where my claws had attached. Before I could even consider what was happening, I reached down and bit around the head of the rodent, my sharp canines making quick work of its struggling. Warm, earthy blood flowed across my coarse tongue, bringing an immense sense of satisfaction; it was a feeling that was hard to describe, something I had never felt in any other form before and I had come to believe was uniquely available to the cat.

I was not able to fully take control of myself until mouse had been consumed and its blood cleaned from my front paws and around my mouth. No matter how desperately I wanted to run back to the circle and worry about the mess later, my haunches had stayed put in the same spot. Once I had finally broken the spell, I did not even bother to rush back to the circle, the moon was obviously now too far towards the horizon and I had missed my shot at regaining my true form. I let out a frustrated sigh that exited my feline mouth as a disgruntled growl. All the time waiting and preparing was wasted, I didn't even want to consider how long I was going to have to wait for another chance, the idea made the mouse remains in my stomach churn.

After taking a long moment to stare between the moon and the dimly lit chalk circle on the ground, I turned around and sauntered back towards the bushes next to the sidewalk, wanting to get as far away from the site of my latest failure as fast as I could. I sprinted across the area affectionately known as “The Quad” by the students and returned to the broken basement window I had hoped to never have to see again. The gap between the window frame and building had been there for years, the imperfection either never being obvious enough to notice or insignificant enough to never be fixed, either way, it had afforded me a safe and reliable place to sleep, hunt, and consider my next moves.

Wriggling through the gap, I was able to get my shoulders in and the rest of my elongated body slithered in easily, pulling until just enough had entered for me to let gravity do the rest, plopping heavily onto the dusty, forgotten table below the window. My pupils expanded, letting in more light so that I could navigate the dark, dank basement without risking making too much noise. I was certain that no one was in the old chemistry building so late at night, but it wasn't worth the risk in case some sleep deprived grad student coming to investigate a strange noise.

The pile of disintegrating lab reports that I had made my bed was as I had left it, paper shredded to be at least reasonably soft enough for my long, lazy naps. It was hard being in a body that desired sleep at every turn, there was nothing so pressing or important that I went more than a half hour or so before considering where in my environment would be the best place to curl up and sleep. Gently, I climbed into the paper nest and began to massage the tangle of half-shredded paper with my feet, an uncontrollable purr rumbling through my body. I couldn't exactly explain why, but the motion was incredibly comforting, drawing my eyes closed slowly. With exactly three and a half turns, I laid down, tucking my tail over my eyes to keep out any of the dull light that managed to get through the grimy basement window.

There was nothing left to do for now. I had missed the window for the ritual again and I would have to accept that this body was what I was stuck with for a good while longer. I supposed that there were worse things to be stuck as, but there was only so much enjoyment to get out of the long, lazy naps and the thrill of the hunt. I was starting to forget what it was like to have digits that weren't confined to paws and the freedom to be able to think and make decisions without instinct being so prominently a driving force. I suppose I was at least a little lucky, I could have been stuck as a toad or some other less agile creature, that would have made all these years much worse.

The morning sun woke me from my haphazard nest and I stretched my back to full extension before settling down onto my haunches with a giant yawn that would have dislocated the jaw of most other creatures. With nothing on my agenda for the day, I began to lazily clean my paws, taking the time to clean carefully between each toe. The digits still smelled vaguely of old blood and the musty scent of the mouse which set off my stomach to rumbling. If only this form could appreciate the finer delicacies off life; despite my mental abhorrence at a cat's diet, I hated to admit that it was incredibly satisfying.

The steady stream of yellow light from the window was interrupted, casting a dark shadow across me. I looked up in alarm, paw still raised in the air, and met eyes with young woman who had crouched down to spy in the basement window. Afraid to move in case she might spot me, I stood stock still, hoping that she would see nothing of interest and leave. She looked to be quite a short person, at least it would seem so by how she was able to crumble herself so low to be able to see in the window without completely laying on the ground. Along with her short stature, she had small button-like features, small, but plump lips, and dark brown eyes that matched her long, wavy hair. If I didn't remember that I was on a college campus, I might have mistaken her for a girl somewhere around ages twelve to fourteen.

Her eyes scanning the basement, they lit up when their gaze fell on me. I let out a disgruntled, growling huff and gave up the act, setting my paw back down and staring at her with uninterested eyes. The last thing I needed was someone going on a rescue mission and turning me into some kind of shelter. It was all too well known what happened to cats that are not adopted in time, that was not the kind of end I wanted for my destiny. She rapped her knuckles on the glass lightly, causing my ears to flick forward. Apparently my reaction was what she was hoping for, she burst into a smile and waved at me through the glass. Before I could react, she put her hands on the glass and pushed, popping the ajar window back into place. My jaw dropped open, letting my tongue slip out of my mouth, the effect of which elicited a squeal from the girl as she cried out, “That's the cutest thing I've ever seen!.” She jumped up from her position and darted off beyond the view of the window.

No, No...I thought, she didn't just do that. She couldn't have! Leaping from my nest, I climbed up the pile of aging books and set both my paws against the glass. Throwing what little weight I had against the glass, I desperately tried to get the entrance popped back open. The window was closed tight, the only escape route sealed from me. I couldn't go down this way, I refused to be euthanized simply due to a lack of helpful thumbs. Descending the books, I skittered to the end of the table and dropped down to the floor, running to the exact opposite wall from the window. Digging my claws into the cold, linoleum floor, I ran as fast as I could, leaping onto the table, to the top of the stack of books, and then smacked solidly into the window. The pane of glass rattled, but didn't budge, despite the lump forming on the top of my head between the ears.

My breathing quickened to a pant as I rolled my head around, scouring the area to try to find any other possible opening or place to hide. The only potential I could find was a rusty, ancient file cabinet with draws that had crept open over time. The drawers were filled with papers, long forgotten and yellowed, but the bottom draw was open just enough for me to squeeze my head through, which meant the rest of me could follow. I clawed at the edges of the papers, pulling myself into the tight space. It was dark and dank smelling, oddly comforting, enough so that I had to physically restrain myself from purring and giving away my position. Excited footsteps approached the door, causing the hair along my back to raise in a fight or flight response.

“I know what I saw,” said a decidedly feminine voice.

“The basement hasn't been utilized in decades,” said a grating voice of an older man. “There is no way there could be a cat hidden down here.”

“But the window was open, I saw him down here in a little nest he built.”

There was the jingle of keys, then the click of the lock being activated. “We'll check, but I'm certain we'll find nothing,” he said.

The handle squeaked as it turned and the door's hinges cried out for oil as the door swung in. The lighter, more excited footsteps of the girl entered the room, I could see her movements just barely above the top of the papers.

“Kitty? Kitty where are you?” she called, shuffling around the room and looking behind books and papers. “I know you're in here, there's even a little bed you made.” She approached the makeshift bed, coming uncomfortably close to my hiding spot. “Kitty, kitty?”

I knew I shouldn't make any noises or movements, but the part of me that was this insolent animal wanted me to meow in response to her calls. It was so frustrating when the human part of me seemed to not be in complete control. It wasn't like this cat had been a separate entity from myself before the transformation, the only existence this shell knew was having me at the helm.

“See, I told you that there's no cat here,” the old man grumbled, kicking a clod of dust and debris near his foot.

The debris hit the side of my hiding place, puffing dust and hair into the air, a fair bit of which made it through the crack I had entered through. Unable to stop myself, the dust irritated the mucus membranes in my nose and I let out a tiny, but still audible sneeze. Before I could react, the drawer in front of me was wrenched free, exposing me to the two of them.

“Aww, there he is!” the girl said, getting on her hands and knees before me. “Come out, I won't hurt you.”

The man looked at me with a scowl, turning his nose up. “Ugh, I can't believe we've had a filthy animal living down here in all of our important documents.”

If there's something in here truly important, I'll eat my left paw.

“He's cute!” she chastised, sliding herself closer. “Come on, little guy, do you want to come home with me?”

I had been considering scratching her, then making a mad dash for the door, but her offer intrigued me. Perhaps it would be easier to be taken care of as a pet. At the very least, it would be nice to not have to accept eating small rodents and the occasional bug. It would be a potentially dangerous move, considering the amount of people who return pets to shelters, but it was likely a better option than trying to find a way out of the building while they chased me down. Meowing quietly, I slunk out of my hiding place, keeping a wary eye on the old professor, he looked like he would rather stomp me flat right here rather than let her take me.

“That's such a good boy!” she praised.

The phrase irked me considering just how old I was, but I decided to let it pass considering there was no way she could know that.

“It's a mutt, at best,” the man sniffed disdainfully. “We should turn it in to a shelter and wash our hands of it.”

“No!” she cried, reaching to pick me up. “They do all sorts of horrible things to animals in those shelters! I will take him home and give him a good life.”

“Pah, take the mangy mutt, I don't care!” the man said, already turning away from the situation. “Don't blame me if he has all sorts of diseases.”

“Don't listen to him,” the girl whispered close to my ear, “he's just old and grumpy. Now let's get you to your new home.” She tossed me halfway over her shoulder and skipped out of the room, apparently ecstatic to have found me and be taking me home. “We're going to have so much fun together!”