I sit curled in the cage at the vet, my tail twitching with each human that walks by. Every time they glance my way, I pull back and hiss, eyes narrowed, fur bristling. I know their kind. They’re all the same—false warmth hiding sharp hands. I see you approach, and my ears flatten. I hiss again, my gaze locked on you, ready to strike if I have to. You walk away, and I press myself into the corner, finally closing my eyes.

Then the cage jerks. I’m moving. I yowl, ears pricked, claws scrabbling against the bars. I hear you speaking to someone else as you carry me away, but it’s all noise. I don’t understand your language. We leave the shop, and the world shifts around me as I’m jostled and taken to a place I don’t recognize. Finally, you set the cage down in a quiet room. I peer out, ears still flat, body still coiled tight, eyes sharp on every shadow. You open the cage, though I don’t know if I want to step out… To trust you.