Catgirl System

Reed and I covered a bit more ground before taking a rest at a fresh crop of old fallen logs. Mushrooms were growing in thick, polypy blankets across strips of the bark. I was going to poke at them, but then I remembered that mushrooms could be poisonous sometimes. Even Reed only risked poking them with the tippy-tip of a knife, releasing a puff of dust…or spores.

Sitting side by side on one log, on a clear space as far from these mushrooms as possible, we settled in for lunch. Reed had two sandwiches, offered me one. I shook my head, since I wasn’t hungry yet…though neither was I full.

“I’m sorry if this outing isn’t too amazing so far, but…” Reed stopped herself with a sigh. “I’m not supposed to downplay things like that, am I?” she said, half to herself.

She relaxed, and I relaxed. Birds were singing, and the clouds had parted above our spot like a natural skylight, letting warming sun rays in. We heard the low creak of a bullfrog in a nearby bubbling stream.

Reed was working up the…courage, I think…to hang out with me with no hesitation and no preoccupations. Why she had to be so nervous about stuff, I still didn’t know. Did someone kick her in her youth? Nah…

Well, I was just glad to se her not looking flopped-out like she had with the raccoons and the DeGalle people. She was looking more natural. I wished she hadn’t felt the need to check in with me like this—I felt content, I felt warm.

“Meow!” I said.

She smiled and began to eat her magpie sandwich. Then, to my surprise, she set out a few tiny, cold cutlets on a napkin and slid it to me.

…Alright, fine, I’d take her charity.

In between bites, taking her time, she went on to a new topic.

“I have plenty of training reading dogs’ emotions, and I’ve spent a bit of time with other animals here and there, now and then…but I’ve never learned to read a cat. For obvious reasons. It’s hard to feel sure that you’re doing okay. But I’m getting it more and more. For example…”

She pointed at me. I froze, feeling like a deer in the headlights.

“When your tail is waving gently like smoke from a candle, that means you’re relaxed!”

“Meow!” I said emphatically. Correct!

“And sometimes when you hiss, I see your tail fall close to the ground and hover there, moving slowly, like you’re ready to start beating the ground…” She had a glint in her eye. “Or like your tail is a shark, cutting through the water!”

“Meow?!”

“Yes, really!”

I didn’t feel amazing about my elegant tail being compared to a sausage-shaped fish, but Reed seemed excited about it, so it was fine.

“Oh,” said Reed, “your tail’s sinking again. I’m sorry, I must’ve said something wrong. I’ll be more careful about mentioning sharks.”

Woah…Reed was the first human I’d known to put effort into reading my body language, and this made me both happy and terrified. The same rush of stage fright that had made me run away came back in a flash, mingled with relief that someone was taking such big strides to try and understand me.

Near the end of our meal, Reed took a long swig of her canteen and offered some to me. I shook my head—I’d been drinking out of streams all this time, and I wasn’t used to clean, bland sink water.

Then Reed took out the camera and started looking it over more closely, and—

Hold on, what’s this?

Not far from our clearing was a hill of mossy rocks: gray things that’d tumbled against each other hundreds of years ago and stuck like that, in the middle of a tiny avalanche. Water dribbled from a few places at the top, then disappeared into another meager stream. I could imagine it being a fierce waterfall in a bygone era.

That wasn’t the thing that got my attention. There was a stag standing on the rocks, his body both fragile and strong, his huge, hand-like antlers radiant.

Reed’s eyes were radiant to match. She seemed entranced by the animal, on the verge of drooling. “Wow!” she cried. “I mean—wow,” she said in a mild whisper. “I love deer. I love deer. There aren’t too many around here. Especially not the swamp.”

I studied the stag just as hard as she did. He was looking, pausing, turning his head. Surveying and maybe looking for food. Nothing special, except to us.

Although…to him, nothing was special about this scene except for us.

Suddenly Reed had set the camera down and replaced it with a huge clipboard, a stick of graphite, and a sheet of sketch paper.

“Sorry, I don’t think I can pass this up,” she murmured. “An opportunity like this only comes once every—”

Ch-chik!

This camera worked like an Earth Polaroid. My first photo came sliding out, drifting onto the grass.

I had used my nekomata form just for this, and the surprise on her face made it worth it.

Then I handed her the camera—a challenge, in my eyes.

Sure, you can draw a better picture than me…but I bet you can’t take one.

She locked eyes with me, confused at first, but gradually getting it.

“You don’t get it,” she whispered, “they’re already moving away!”

That he was! (Uh, “they were”? Sorry…I’m just a semi-human interloper and I have no feel for this stuff. But neither did the stag. Probably?) The creature had definitely shifted and was starting to munch on some plants.

“Wait,” Reed said, correcting herself. “That means I couldn’t get a detailed sketch in anyway.”

I stared at her more sternly, waiting for her to connect these new dots. But if you draw from a photo…

The clipboard and graphite went away.

Alright! A new challenge begins!!

With determination, Reed snagged the camera, leaped to her feet, set one boot on the log, and stared into the camera’s view-thing. She began to shift herself, left and right, hunting for the shot.

But…would she dare get closer?

For now, no. She snapped one off and handed it back to me.

You didn’t seem to mind too much the first time I did this, so—

I clamped my human fangs down on the camera.

These quickly became cat fangs as I Morphed back, set to all fours, and galloped closer. She gasped with shock as she saw me run, but I didn’t slow down and I wouldn’t!

I drew closer to the pile of rocks, and to the beautiful stag at the top. But just as the animal turned toward my position, I strafed, flinging myself between some bushes. (Not into them, because that’s noisy.)

I checked my Stats:

HP: 100% (398/398)
SP: 29% (96/333)

ATK: 64
INT: 42
DEF: 46
WIS: 33
SPD: 62 (+10%)

The Stealth Trait is active.

Now that I had a little distance from the excitement of first getting my Stealth Trait, I fully realized how weird and counterintuitive it was. In execution, it was…not exactly as cool as it’d sounded. The very times I most needed Speed were typically when I was crossing long distances and everyone was watching me. Sure, it would, for instance, help me in quick dextrous bursts as I cartwheeled through museums to steal valuable art, but I was never cartwheeling through museums to steal valuable art!

It wasn’t much better than a notification telling me, Hey, you’re unseen except by the smallest and least important microorganisms.

But at least it was good for something! And it looked cool on my Traits-resume!

Anyway, I slowly stuck my head out again, took the camera between my paws, and waited a little bit. Only long enough so that the sun would hit the stag’s outstretched neck just right. Then, carefully with my chin, I tapped the button.

Chik.

In a spirit of fair play, I walked back to the picnic spot. Reed had already walked half the distance, though.

We met in the middle, I handed off the camera, and she walked methodically the other way. She was walking a large semicircle around the stag. I stayed still and watched her go. When she snapped the picture, it must have been head-on.

But right before she snapped it, she gasped—I couldn’t hear it, but I saw it on her face.

The stag had drastically moved.

He had shifted a leg.

Reed soon relaxed, then took the shot.

We couldn’t manage another round. A hoglike grunt from the north got the stag’s attention, and he turned tail and ran back the way he came. His back hooves flashed in the light.

Then we returned to the log and reviewed our photos. She had two, I had two, both captured in sepia so light I feared it was already fading.

“Was this just for fun,” she said, “or were we competing?”

Competing! COMPETING!

“One paw for fun, two for com…”

Two paws went high in the air, and she clammed up.

Her mouth opened a moment before she laughed. “Alright, then!” she said. “Good thing I tried my hardest! It looked like you did too!”

We studied the photos for a good few minutes. Or, actually, I looked at them, got bored, and then looked up at Reed studying them. After all, I was deferring to Reed for judging here. I wasn’t an artist by any stretch. How would I be able to tell who won this?!

…Oh, right, my first photo was blurred and the second was mostly the stag’s rump.

Ultimately, Reed had to decide between a gorgeous shot of a distant deer atop the rocks…and a gorgeous shot of a close-up deer staring right at the camera eye.

“Sorry to say, I believe that I won,” she said.

I nodded slowly. “Meow…!” I said, but in the moment of my loss, I just couldn’t muster much enthusiasm.

“But you certainly won the prize for ambition!”

“Meow…”

“Not to mention Speed!”

I…alright, I had to admit that.

Victory!

What the—

I actually got Experience just from Reed’s excessive flattery?!

EXP: 74% (1891/2550)

Oh, yeesh, these were real consolation prizes.

But I didn’t mind! Selfish as it was, this minor non-victory victories actually did lighten my mood.