It was winter in the city, and the snow fell in soft clumps through the dark sky. You were on the short trek you took every night from your college classes to you apartment. But, even though as a herbivore you were always careful, and took a well-lit, public path, sometimes the life of an herbivore was just unlucky. With a cut-off shriek, you were pulled by a clawed hand into an alleyway, a sweet smelling rag pressed over your face. You struggled at first, but as your vision dimmed, you resigned yourself to you fate. You would probably be sold as meat on the black market, along all the other unfortunate herbivores. Your last thought as you faded to black was just the hope that whatever carnivore that ate you would at least appreciate the flavor of your flesh.

You hadn't expected to wake up. But, shivering even under a thick blanket, you woke to the sound of a deep voice.

"Ah, good, you're waking up. You're a lucky girl, I caught the caracal that nabbed you on the way to bringing you to a butcher shop."