NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 8: Find
As she stretched and shook the sleep from her fur, her stomach growled with hunger. With a quick leap, she made her way outside, her senses on high alert as she searched for her next meal. Her sharp eyes caught sight of a flock of birds in the distance pecking at something on the ground. Curiosity flared, and she began to cautiously approach, her muscles coiled and ready to pounce.
As she crept closer, the scene came into focus; the birds were clustered around the still form of a man, their beaks tearing at his flesh. The sight was both eerie and haunting, the air heavy with the stench of decay. She froze, staring at the macabre scene. The temptation of an easy meal battled with her instincts.
She considered hunting the birds. Her breakfast would be simple enough if she could catch one, but then a troubling thought crossed her mind. These birds had been feeding on a human corpse. What would that mean for her if she ate one of them?
Cautiously, she crept closer, sniffing the air. Their scent was a strange mix of feathers and something unmistakably human. She recoiled slightly, shaking her head as if to clear it. This was nature's way, survival of the fittest, she supposed.
Her gaze drifted back to the man. What had happened to him? Why had he died here, alone and unprotected? Determined to learn more, she edged closer to the body; her steps slow and deliberate.
The birds noticed her now. Their sharp, beady eyes fixed on her as they hopped around the corpse, squawking and flapping their wings in a display meant to scare her off. They were small, black creatures with glinting beaks that moved in coordinated, nimble bursts. Despite their size, there was a ferocity in their behavior. They would defend their meal if they had to.
She didn't flinch. Instead, she held her ground, watching them carefully. They tested her resolve, their cries echoing around her, but she moved closer still, determined to inspect the man.
His clothes were tattered, his skin pale and clammy. She sniffed the air again, cautious of the birds that now watched her every move. Whenever she stepped too close, one would dart forward, its beak sharp and quick, though it never quite made contact. She weighed her options. Taking down one bird might be easy, but seven of them? That was another matter entirely.
Her focus shifted back to the man. She looked for signs of what had caused his death. There were no obvious wounds, save for the gaping hole in his stomach where the birds feasted. Her gaze lingered on his face, then his hands. That's when she noticed it—his fingertips were black.
The sight was strange, and she sniffed at his hand, hoping to discern something from the scent. But the only smell was that of death, sharp and overpowering. She inspected him further, but the mystery remained. Was it starvation? Disease? Some unseen injury? She couldn't tell.
As she stood there, pondering his fate, a pang of sadness washed over her. He had been human, and though she was just a cat, the weight of his loss pressed on her.
But life must go on. She stepped away from the man and the flock of birds, their cries following her as she left them to their grim meal. Her hunger was still gnawing at her, and she turned her focus back to finding a more conventional breakfast, one that didn't involve human corpses.
With her tail low and her senses sharp, she moved onward, determined to survive another day.