"Humans have always been selfish. It's a non-stop want, want, want with you, is it not?" The old woman tilts her head at me.

"Erm.. Excuse me." I lift my finger in the air. "But who are..."

"Koshka." She throws a peculiar name at me like throwing a bone to a dog. "Yes! Human. More gear, more food, faster speeds, longer lives, easier lives, more power, yay!" The loony old lady waves her arms around reminding me of an exhilarated windmill. "You were like this too, Bojana. A talker. A taker. But something is different now. I know. I've been watching you. You are ready to listen. You are ready... to give. To fulfill your destiny." Time has knitted the woman's skin into a web of wrinkles.

"You!" Bea lunges at the old lady in blind fury. "Destiny is a book you write yourself."

I watch in disbelief as their movements blur, a dance of aggression and evasion. The woman effortlessly dodges her every move. Bea's frustration grows with each failed attempt, while the old lady remains calm and composed. It's kind of like watching a master spar with an eager student. I can't help but admire the woman's agility and skill. Despite the intensity of the situation, there's a strange beauty in their fluid motions.

"You... Ruined... My... Life!" Bea roars. "Give me back my life, do you hear me? Give. It. Back."

The old lady interrupts the intense confrontation with a simple phrase. "Now. That's quite enough of that. We are attracting unnecessary attention." She places her palms on Bea's temples, and in an instant, she transforms into a tiny ginger kitten. One eye is flamey yellow, and the other, cold as ice.

I can't help but find it kind of cute, despite the bizarre situation. 

The kitten Bea hisses and spits, clearly unhappy with her new form. The old lady carries her to a nearby park bench, gently setting her down. I approach with caution, burdened with our groceries, still slightly panting. My heart is filled with concern for Bea.

 As I sit beside her, the old lady speaks up. "Fret not, my dear boy. This transformation is temporary. It is meant to teach Beatrice a lesson in patience and humility, which is most certainly overdue, wouldn't you say?"

Bea hops into my arms and I stroke the kitten's soft fur, trying to comfort her. It's a strange sight, me sitting on a bench with a hissing kitten, but I can't help but feel a sense of wonder and curiosity about what will happen next.

Whatever I thought might happen next did not prepare me for what the woman, Koshka, did. She whipped out the very same book that lay in Bea's library. Her gnarly fingers sliced out a page, with difficulty, which shocked me: our precious book! It felt like she was peeling away an expanse of skin.

"Look!" Koshka smacks the page on the kitten's nose.

It's filled with illustrations of humans shapeshifting into cats and werecats. She says, "Bea, this is your birthright. You belong to a powerful clan with the ability to transform into various forms. Embrace your heritage and learn to control your shifting abilities."

The kitten goes wild in my arms, jumping up and down, trying to tear the page with its teeth and scratch at it with tiny nails. It's absolutely adorable, and a brain hack, as all kittens are and must be.

Koshka looks at Bea, her eyes filled with amusement. "I imagine you would like to weigh in? Are you going to be a good girl and listen? No more attacks?" she asks.

Bea, still in her kitten form, huffs and puffs at first, but then she nods eagerly.

Koshka chuckles and places her hands on Bea's temples. "Very well," she says, and with a quick glance around to make sure no one can see us, she waves her fingers.

Bea returns to her human form, but with cat ears and teeth. She crosses her arms, instantly grumpy. "You could have at least left me earless and with nice teeth," she mutters.

I can't help but stifle a laugh at her sassy remark.

Koshka raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you're quite the feisty one, aren't you?" she says, a hint of admiration in her voice.

Bea pouts, but there's a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "Well, if you're going to give me cat features, might as well embrace the attitude too," she retorts.

Koshka bursts into laughter, her cackle echoing through the park. "I did not give you the cat features, Bojana."

"Oh, so it was some other gnarly-fingered old lady who waltzed into my party, slammed the ruby earrings onto my ears, had me writhe in agony and turned me into a beast? Sheesh, I didn't know. How many of you are walking around New Town, then?"

"The "beast," as you call it, is the coat of your birthright. You should be proud to don it."

"I was not born this way. I was not."

I feel so bad for her, as she sits there, her head hung down low, refusing to accept the reality Koshka is imposing on her.

"And why do you keep calling me Bojana?"

"A good name. Strong name. "Boj," means a battle. You are a bellicose young woman."

"My name is Beatrice Laurent!"

"Or is it?" Koshka tilts her head.

Bea looks at Koshka, her eyes filled with determination. "Can you explain something about my heritage? I need to know," she asks.

She is not the only one. There appear to be two truths, two versions to the story and I am very much eager to learn which one is the real truth.  The true-true. I dare not pressure, or intervene. The flow of the dialogue is established and this is something Bea and Koshka need to sort out.

Koshka sighs softly, her voice gentle but firm. "It's not my place to talk about it, Bojana. I merely activated your birthright when the time was proper."

"Whose place is it, then?" Bea slams her fist on the bench and a dozen sparrows flutter away from us.

"You should ask your parents," she replies.

I can see the disappointment in Bea's eyes, but there's also a glimmer of understanding. She nods, accepting Koshka's response. "Alright, I will," she says, her voice resolute. "So, you can't tell me anything. But what can you do? Why are you here?"

"To tell you you are ready to train."

"Train?" Bea's eyes widen with wonder as she asks, "You mean, to control... this? How do I start? How do I do it? Who'll be training me?"

Koshka smiles, her voice filled with wisdom. "It begins with understanding your inner feline essence. Meditate, connect with your instincts, and let your spirit guide you."

Bea nods, determination in her gaze.

I speak up, curious, "What about me? Am I connected to this too?"

Koshka's eyes twinkle, "Ross Thorne. You may not have the same lineage, but your support and affection for Bea are essential in her unlocking her true forms. As her partner, you play a vital role in her journey. Embrace the bond between you, and together, you will face any challenge."

"I, er..." I can just feel myself blushing. "I am not her... Yes. Yup. Okay. Embrace the bond, and all that." I shake my finger at Bea who is doubling down in laughter behind the old lady's back.

"And now, we must part. Try to do what I have told you. Open your mind. And the body will follow." She stands up, ready to leave us.

"Can I ask you just one more thing?"

"You just did. But you may ask yet another."

"Hardy-har-har." Bea rolls her eyes. "Are you like me?"

"I am indeed. And I am not the only one. We are members of a mighty Shadowpaw clan. But the walls between our reality and this one are thinning... fading. Humans are exterminating the shapeshifters. We need our Keeper and our guide."

"Who is your... I mean, our Keeper?"

Koshka's face hardens "You are."

"Me?" Bea is about to double down in laughter again when the expression on the old woman's face prevents her from doing so.

"Wait, you're actually serious? But you can't just materialize out of thin air, come here, upend my entire world and... I can't be a Keeper. I'm just... I'm just ... I can't." Bea looks at me as if asking for help but words fail her.

I understand her so well. She can't say she was "just anything." Not when here she was, shape changing into felines at will.

"Don't be silly. Of course you can," Koshka said. "You are a brilliant young woman: brave, passionate, adventurous."

"But I don't —"

The old woman's voice turns sharp. "Bojana, stop second-guessing yourself. There isn't time for all that. You made your way here, just like I'd hoped you would. You followed each hint even if you didn't know you did. You've earned this; your parents almost died for it. I won't see Shadowpaws' legacy destroyed after we've given up so much to keep it alive. No. You will be the Keeper now, Bea. You will come to understand everything that means in time, but for now, you have to make a stand against those who seek to do us harm. The time is nigh when you shall have to do so."

"I can't do it alone!" Bea looks at Koshka, her voice filled with uncertainty. "I can't embrace my heritage alone," she repeats. 

Koshka's eyes soften as she responds, "You don't have to, Bojana. You can rely on Ross and others who will join you in time. When you're ready, you'll meet other shapeshifters who will guide you on your journey."

I feel a sense of reassurance hearing Koshka's words. We may not have all the answers now, but we have each other, and that's enough to face whatever lies ahead.

Bea nods, a flicker of determination in her eyes. "Thank you, Koshka. I guess I trust that the right people will come into my life when the time is right," she says.

Koshka smiles, her voice filled with warmth, "You're welcome, Bojana. Remember, even if your time to awaken the powers is limited, you are never alone on this path."

She stretches out her arms and dozens of pigeons land on them, some of them already eagerly pushing their feathery heads into her coat pockets, seeking for bread crumbs she suddenly mysteriously produces. Koshka closes her eyes, paying no heed to us anymore, and I take it that the conversation is finished.

We're snuggled up in Bea's cozy library, gazing at the shapeshifting book while raindrops dance on the windowpane. The aroma of patatas au gratin fills the air as we enjoy our lunch, savoring each creamy bite. The sound of rain creates a soothing backdrop, adding to the tranquility of the moment. We're immersed in the world of shapeshifters, captivated by the possibilities that lie within those pages.

Bea's eyes sparkle with excitement as she flips through the illustrations, her curiosity piqued. I watch her, feeling a sense of joy knowing that we're embarking on this journey together and she won't send me away, despite the fact that she already has almost all the answers. The library feels like our sanctuary, a place where we can explore, learn, and dream.

"My mom loves thunderstorms," Bea says. 

I don't know why she says it. I don't know why it matters. After a moment, I reply, "So did my dad."

A flash of light—and then another rolling, long rumble of thunder.

"You, too?" she asks, but really what she says is, "You have a hole in your heart as well?"

I tilt my head, looking at her—really looking, for the first time since I met her. It's strange because I've memorized what Bea looks like from all of the promo posters and instagram posts but it doesn't hit me until just then how... human she looks.

It's easy to forget that she isn't even eighteen yet. Bea's been in the spotlight since she was a kid. I watched her grow up in the newspapers and on television shows. Her father is the CEO of some big Hollywood studio, and his mother is one of those gorgeous philanthropists you see heading charities in Las Vegas and LA.

I hardly ever thought of her as someone my age. As someone real, for that matter. Now, not only is she real, but she is beyond real. She is proof that the paranormal exists.

Bea turns her fiery cornflower dual gaze to me. "What're you thinking, Ross?"

"I'm thinking how happy I am that our paths crossed."

"I am not so sure that is a good thing." She bares her teeth. "It'd be so much better for you if you didn't have to be in this mess."

"But I am. And I choose to be. Bea...," I say tentatively.

"Hmm?" She tilts her head, and the way the candlelight dances in her locks reminds me of the ginger fur patterns her kitten shape had today.

Of course, I refrain from saying so.

"Do you think it would soon be a good time for you to openly talk to your parents?"

I half expect for her to protest, to yell, to throw a plate of patatas au gratin at me.

To my surprise, Beatrice Laurent sighs, and nods. "I do think that. But at the same time, I dread it. There are some sleeping truths that are better left alone. It seems to be the norm, to avoid shitty consequences."

"You do not mean that, not really. Saying so would be more appropriate to me. More cautious, more..." I swallow. "More cowardly."

"Well I seem to be learning caution from the best." Her ears move gingerly up and down.

"And: you are smart, beautiful, brave, and non-tied to the norms. If there is a person who can and wants to get to the bottom of this: that person is you." 

A/N: Theme song: Deep Purple "Child in Time"