The silence pressed in on her.
No Malice. No hamsters grinding flour.
Just her and the water and the task she didn’t understand.
She stared at it.
It stared back. In the dim light, she could barely make out her own outline—the suggestion of stripes, like wood grain, layered and dark against the darker of her markings.
“Okay,” she said to her reflection. “See from the puddle. See something far away. Make it show me.”
She focused. Concentrated as hard as she’d ever concentrated on anything. Harder than waiting for the fathers to open the licky treat. Harder than tracking a bug across the ceiling.
Nothing happened.
“Come on.” She whined as she narrowed her eyes. “Work.”
Her reflection narrowed its eyes back.
Solstice tried remembering what Malice had done. The stare. That intense, unblinking focus.
She stared.
And stared.
Her eyes started to water.
The puddle remained stubbornly reflective.
“This is stupid.”
But Malice had done it. Somehow. With just a stare. So it is possible.
Solstice backed up. “Maybe from farther away?”
She retreated several tail-lengths, then stared again.
Still nothing.
“Maybe…” She looked up at the nearest tree. “Maybe from higher up?”
Climbing was easy. Her claws found purchase in the not-quite-bark, and she scrambled up to a low branch. From here, she could look down at the puddle.
She stared down at it.
The puddle stared up at her.
“WORK!” she yelled at it.
A drop of water fell from somewhere above—from branches that dripped endlessly without any rain—and hit the puddle’s surface.
Ripples spread.
Solstice watched them, mesmerized. They moved in perfect circles, expanding, overlapping, creating patterns that almost looked like—
The ripples stilled.
Just her reflection again.
“Khiiisss! Fuck!” Solstice climbed down, frustrated. “Stupid puddle. Stupid seeing. Stupid Malice and her stupid—”
She landed with a soft thump.
Maybe she needed to be closer?
She crept right up to the edge, nose nearly touching the surface. Her reflection did the same, whiskers almost meeting.
This close, in the poor light, she could actually see details. Her eyes stared back—amber, she thought, though it was hard to tell in the dimness. And around them, dark markings. Her skin around her eyes was dark, forming lines that ran from the inner corner of each eye and swept outward.
And above her eyes, on her forehead—a pattern. Just… lines. Shapes she’d never noticed before coming to the Nowhere.
She stared.
Her reflection stared.
This is ridiculous.
She was just looking at herself, looking at herself. This wasn’t—
Wait.
What if she tried different faces? Different expressions? Maybe one of them would work?
She narrowed her eyes. Squinted hard at the puddle.
Her reflection squinted back.
Nothing.
She tried looking mean. Ears back, eyes hard.
Still nothing.
“Okay…” She tried a slow blink.
Her whole body relaxed.
That was… actually nice. Calming, even.
But the puddle remained just a puddle.
She tried one eye.
Her reflection winked back.
Silly. But nothing happened.
She tried the other eye.
Same result.
“Come ON.” Frustration built in her chest. “Work. WORK.”
She stared harder. Eyes wide now. As wide as they’d go.
Wider.
She pushed them even rounder. Bigger. Until they felt huge in her face.
Her reflection—
“Awwwwww.”
The sound came out involuntarily.
Her reflection was ADORABLE. Those big round shiny eyes, pleading and sweet—was that really her? Had she ever made that face before?
She didn’t think so. She was a spicy kitty. She didn’t do cute faces. She did scary faces and angry faces and leave-me-alone faces.
But this…
Maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe she’d been trying too hard to be strong. Too hard to be scary. When the puddle wanted… this.
Whatever this is.
Something shifted.
She could see the tree above her now. Clearly. In focus. The branches stretching overhead, the way they curved and dripped. She hadn’t been able to see that depth a moment ago—her nose had been too close to the puddle, her vision limited.
And she could see under her own chin. Her body had settled into a loaf position without her meaning to, paws tucked under, head no longer leaning over the puddle but held upright.
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She wasn’t seeing her reflection anymore.
She was seeing FROM the puddle.
“Oh,” she breathed.
This is wrong. All wrong.
She shouldn’t be down there looking up. She should be up here looking down. But she was both. She was everywhere and nowhere and—
No. Focus. This is what Malice wanted. This is what seeing means.
“I’M DOING IT! I can see from the puddle! The PUDDLE has eyes now!”
The connection wavered with her excitement but didn’t break.
“Okay okay okay.” She forced herself to sit still. “Stay calm. Keep looking. Keep—”
Another drop fell from above.
It hit the water directly in her line of sight.
The vision exploded.
Everything was ripples. Ripples and motion and chaos. Her view from the puddle shattered into a thousand moving pieces, each one showing a fragment of herself from a slightly different angle, all of them wrong, all of them shifting—
“THE PUDDLE IS HAVING A SEIZURE!”
She jerked back, panting. The connection broke.
Normal vision returned. Just a puddle. Just her normal eyes looking at normal water.
But she’d DONE it. She’d actually—
Mrrrow.
A shape materialized from the darkness.
Solstice’s back arched instantly. Her fur puffed out—tail, spine, everything. She jumped sideways, landing stiff-legged, making herself as big and threatening as possible.
“Cute.” The shape solidified. “It is I.”
Malice. Just Malice, stepping out of the shadows like she’d been part of them.
Solstice’s fur slowly started to settle. “You—how long have you been there?”
“Long enough.” Malice approached slowly. “You were being very… creative.”
“I did it!” Solstice’s tail was still slightly puffed, but excitement was replacing fear. “I saw from the puddle! It was so weird—everything was wiggly and I was looking at me but not from me and then the DROP happened and everything went CRAZY but I DID IT—”
Malice stared at the puddle. Then at Solstice. Then back at the puddle.
“Show me what you mean.”
“Okay okay!” Solstice turned back to the puddle. “Watch!”
She made her face do the thing again—eyes huge and round and shiny.
The connection snapped into place immediately.
There—the tree branches above. Her own body from below. The perspective shift.
“See?” she said, though she couldn’t see her own mouth moving. “I’m doing it right now!”
Malice stared at the puddle for a long moment. Walked around it. Peered at it from different angles.
“There is nothing in the water,” she said slowly. “No image. Just still water.”
“That’s because I’m seeing FROM it!” Solstice explained.
“From it. Not in it.” Malice’s tail twitched. “That is… not what I was teaching.”
“Is it bad?”
“It is different.” Malice moved closer. “I will test you properly. I am going to do things, and you will tell me what you see.”
Malice positioned herself between Solstice and the puddle. Blocking the natural line of sight.
From the puddle’s view, Solstice could see Malice perfectly. Could see her yellow eyes staring down.
Both eyes closed. Slow. Gentle.
The expression washed over Solstice like warmth. Her whole body relaxed involuntarily.
“You just—that’s the happy blink. The calm one.”
“Good.”
One yellow eye closed. Just the left one. Slow and deliberate.
Solstice’s ears flicked forward. “That’s—” She almost laughed. “That’s the FLIRTING one. You’re being silly!”
“Mmm.” Was that amusement in Malice’s voice?
Malice’s mouth opened wide. No sound came out, but from the puddle, Solstice could see her teeth, her tongue, the full threat display.
Solstice’s own mouth opened. “KhIIIIsss!” She hissed back on instinct.
Malice’s form began to blur. Her edges darkened, losing definition. Her body started to come apart—like wet sand crumbling, pieces of her sliding downward, breaking into fragments that dissolved into the darkness below.
“NO!” Solstice lurched forward, losing and regaining the connection. “What’s happening? Are you—are you hurt? How do I—”
The blurring stopped. Malice solidified.
Then her paw lashed out.
SPLASH!
She struck the puddle directly.
Solstice’s vision went wild—ripples everywhere, chaos and motion and spinning fragments—but the connection didn’t break. She stayed locked in the puddle’s perspective, watching through the distorted water as Malice’s paw retreated.
“Still seeing,” Solstice wheezed, slightly breathless. “Still down there. It’s just really wiggly now.”
Pride swelled in her chest.
I did it. I actually learned something real. Something powerful. Malice has to be impressed now. She has to be.
Malice stepped back, moving around the puddle so she could see both of them together.
From the puddle’s perspective, Solstice could see Malice’s yellow eyes looking down. Then looking up at where Solstice sat. Back and forth. Checking.
Then—their eyes met.
And it all shifted. The connection lurched—yanked sideways, pulled toward something closer, something direct—
Suddenly, Solstice wasn’t looking from the puddle anymore.
She was looking at—
Herself.
Wait. That’s me—
Oh no.
She was in Malice. Looking out through Malice’s eyes at her own huge, round eyes. She’d gone too far, reached too deep, and now she was—
Going deeper, underneath the vision, behind it, threaded through it like smoke—
Memories.
A wood pile. Cold. Alone.
Something soft pressing against me. A dog’s nose—gentle, sniffing.
“There’s a dog,” Solstice murmured. “Big dog—”
I’m being lifted. Long fingers—careful, warm. Bottle in my mouth. So safe.
“Someone’s feeding me—he’s so gentle—and his nose is really big.”
Running across the dog’s back. Playing. Safe.
“I’m playing on a dog. He’s being so nice—”
A boy is carrying me through the house. Blonde hair. Small arms holding me against his chest. His heartbeat.
The warmth started to slip away. The memory blurred—edges dissolving like wet ink.
“No—wait—”
Something was pushing her from these memories. Images flickered past—too fast to grasp. The dog, older. The boy, taller. Different home. Trees and roofs and—
The memories lurched forward again. Faster now.
The boy is in a black dress with a flat hat. Hair is darker now. Red tail on his chin.
“The boy grew up—”
Where’s the dog?
Searching. Every corner of every memory. He should be here.
Wait, now, where did the boy go?
The dog and boy were just… gone. The memories wouldn’t say why.
Just the old man and me, alone in the big house. Now, he’s putting me in a truck. Dropping me off with the boy.
“Oh, I found the boy.”
Different walls, though. Not the big home. Smaller. Quiet. No yard.
“But I miss the yard. And the dog. Where’s the dog?”
The old man is back.
Something’s wrong.
The old man is crying. The boy hugs me before letting the old man take me.
“Why? I am safe here—”
Night. A white truck. Doors opening. Bright lights. Loud scary noises.
“What’s happening—”
I’m running. I’m lost. I’m calling.
“Where is he? There are so many other trucks here. Where is mine? Come back—”
No one’s answering.
“No one’s coming—”
Malice’s eyes snapped to where Solstice sat.
“Get OUT.” Her voice cut through everything. “OUT!”
Malice looked into Solstice’s eyes again—still locked in that wide, pleading state.
The connection lurched—yanked sideways—
And Solstice fell into—
Herself.
Looking out through her own eyes at Malice, who looked furious. But Solstice couldn’t FEEL her own body.
And then her own memories started to surface—
The window. I’m warm. Sunbathing. Watching neighbors and cars.
“My window spot—”
Smoke pressed against me. Playing. Safe together.
“Brother—”
I’m grooming Coffey. Patient. His tail’s wagging.
“My other Brother, I’m grooming him—”
She tried to look away from Malice. To turn her head, close her eyes, anything— Nothing moved. She couldn’t feel her body.
Just like the tunnel all over again.
“No no no—”
This is worse. At least then I didn’t know what I was missing. Now I do.
“I can’t feel my body. I can’t feel my BODY—”
I’m a stringless puppet. Trapped in my own eyes.
“MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOP—”
Something hit her hard.
Malice’s weight pinning her.
Then teeth at her throat.
She couldn’t see them but she could FEEL them.
Cold. Sharp. Pressing.
Terror flooded through her. Pure. Primal. Absolute.
Normal vision slammed back.
She was in her body. HERS. Ground beneath her. Malice’s weight on top. Teeth at her throat.
The terror lingered even as the teeth withdrew. That feeling—imminent death, prey-knowing-the-end—it had been so real. So absolute.
But Malice had stopped. She’d pulled back. Had saved me.
Hadn’t she?
Solstice gasped. Shook.
Malice stepped back.
Her yellow eyes were hard. Angry.
“You were in my head.” Her voice was flat. Cold. “In my old pain.”
“I—” Solstice’s voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to! I was trying to see farther and then I was in your eyes and I saw—”
“ENOUGH.” Malice’s tail lashed. “I do not want to hear what you saw.”
“I’m sorry—”
“What you did—” Malice’s voice shook slightly. “You went into my memories. Into places I keep private.”
“I couldn’t control it! I didn’t know how to stop!”
“That is a problem.” Malice turned away. “This talent you discovered. Seeing from others’ eyes. It is useless if you cannot control it. What good is jumping into someone’s perspective if you lose your own body? You become a passenger. Helpless. Vulnerable.”
The words stung.
Useless. After all that work, all that trying, and it was useless?
No. Not useless. Just… uncontrolled. There was a difference. Wasn’t there?
“But I—”
“You saw my private pain.” Malice’s voice was hard. “Things I do not want to think about. Things I keep buried.”
Solstice’s ears flattened. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t—”
“I know you did not mean to.” Malice remained stiff. Defensive. “But you still did it.”
Silence.
“I need to kill something. Many somethings,” Malice finally said. “Clear my head.”
“Can I come—”
“No.” Sharp. “You are exhausted. You can barely lift your head.”
It was true. Solstice’s body felt like wet cat food.
“Sleep,” Malice said, walking away. Then, softer: “You will need your strength. We will… talk more when I return.”
“Malice—”
“Sleep, Solstice.”
Her form seemed to lose cohesion. The edges of her body blurred, darkened. She began to ooze downward like sugar dissolving in water, her cat-shape melting, sinking into the shadows pooled below her. Black and gold fur ran together, liquefied, spreading until she was just darkness. Just shadow.
And then she was gone.
Solstice was alone again.
She tried to stay awake. Tried to think.
But exhaustion pulled at her.
Her legs folded. She curled into a ball on the colorless grass, tail wrapped around to her nose.
She’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to see. Something Malice kept buried. The dog had been so gentle. The boy had been so loving. And then…
What happened? Why did Malice end up here, alone, in the Nowhere?
The fragments wouldn’t fit together. Wouldn’t make sense.
And then—
Bright lights. Too many sounds. Darkness. A parking lot.
No one coming.
No one finding her.
Cold and alone and lost.
And then her own memories. Smoke and Coffey. The window spot. Being loved.
Things Malice’s memories had… until she didn’t.
Sleep finally pulled Solstice under.
I am seeking feedback. Please take a moment to answer the following questions, or share anything else you'd like. Thank you.
- During Solstice's struggle with the puddle (the squinting, winking, big-eyed attempts)—did you feel her frustration with her, or did you start skimming to get to the "real" action?
- When Solstice accidentally fell into Malice's memories (the boy, the dog, the abandonment)—did that moment make you care about Malice's past, or did it feel confusing/disorienting in a way that pulled you out of the story?
- After Malice pinned Solstice and said "I need to kill something"—what was your gut reaction? Did you trust she wouldn't hurt Solstice, or did you genuinely worry for her safety?