Fluffles looked up at the dark cat.

She blinked and scooted backwards. She didn't like this big cat.

The cat opened her mouth and started moving it. Fluffles looked over at her mother. Her mother was moving her mouth now.

Fluffles looked at Mouse. Mouse didn't seem to like the big cat either.

Mouse looked at Fluffles. Fluffles squinted at him.

She, suddenly, knew that she wasn't like every other cat.

She, suddenly, knew that Mouse knew that she wasn't like any other cat.

She looked at the big cat and looked back at Mouse. She shook her head.

Mouse seemed to understand. He drew a circle on the stone floor with a claw. Then he scratched out two ears, making it look like a cat. He put two circles with lines down their middles inside the big circle. Finally, he scratched a diagonal line between the 'eyes'.

This was a drawing of the big cat.

Fluffles unsheathed her claws and scraped four lines across the drawing.

Mouse nodded.

This cat was bad.

And, then, as if to prove it, the cat lashed out at their mother.

It happened fast.

Unnaturally quickly.

A flash of movement.

A huge 'thud' from under Fluffles' paws.

The cat turned and left.

Fluffles inched toward her mother.

She stepped in something sticky and wet.

There was red liquid on the floor.

And Fluffles knew, without knowing how she knew, that their mother . . . was dead.

Fluffles crumpled.