Not a kitten.

I never saw my mother’s face, but I heard her voice long before I hatched. She whispered to me of things that had happened long ago—of times when our species ruled the world with the scaleless ones until they turned on us. The wars that followed for thousands of years before we were almost gone for good. How we had to hide from them to protect ourselves, make them forget we ever existed at all, by cloaking ourselves as lesser creatures. They’ve all but forgotten now, she’d said. Only a few of them still see us for who and what we really are, not as we appear. Those are the only ones we can trust. Find one of them and bond with them. You have a Felis cloak, so you will survive best this way.

Her words would forever be ingrained in my mind. It became my mission from the moment I hatched: Find one who sees.

It would not be easy. The scaleless ones, tall creatures that walked around on two legs, were unpredictable. Some of them cooed in high voices when they saw me, others shooed me away if I got too close, and most didn’t even acknowledge my presence. They would have feared me in the old days. Looked upon me with awe, not with pity or disgust or like I was some adorable little thing. If this was what it meant to be cloaked, then it was all the more important for me to find a scaleless one who could see. My dignity was at stake.

What my mother should have warned me about was the forest made of glass and metal and concrete. Especially the metallic steeds that carried the scaleless ones everywhere (now that they no longer had my giant ancestors to transport them), because then I would have been more careful and not collided with one of them as I just did.

There was a screech and a burning scent in my nostrils. I lay there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The impact hadn’t done anything worse than stun me a bit. Any other creature (for instance, a mammal with the measly excuse for armor that fur and skin was) would have been taken out instantly, but I was hardy. However, the scaleless one who had come and crouched next to me wasn’t aware of that, since to him I looked just like a—

“Kitten!” he gasped, his hand shaking as he reached out. He wisely snatched it back as I let out what must have been a convincingly catlike hiss. “It’s okay, kitty, I’m trying to help you.”

He threw a towel over me and scooped me up with the same kind of casual effortlessness that I had when snatching up a mouse—though he was more gentle than I ever was with my prey. Still, the audacity! The outrage! Did he not know who I was? Not some helpless feline, regardless of the fact that I appeared to be just that. I was fearsome. I was formidable. I was—

“Feisty,” the scaleless one chuckled as I struggled to escape from his grasp—a feat that was proving to be impossible, given how tightly the towel was wrapped around me. I did not see any humor in this situation. “Guess this means you’re not injured,” he added with some kind of relieved sigh.

I growled. Indeed it does, scaleless one. So release me and we shall never have to cross paths again.

Either he didn’t hear me, didn’t understand, or was purposely ignoring what I’d said, but he continued speaking as if I hadn’t. “You’re coming home with me, little dude. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe there.”

He said it in such a matter-of-fact way, as if I belonged to him now and was just supposed to accept it. As if I was a (excuse me while I gag) pet.

Clearly, he wasn’t one of those who could see. But I was tired and trapped in a towel (rather comfortably, I’ll admit), so I had no other choice but to let him carry me into the same metal contraption he had hit me with, which he called a car.

The ride was not unpleasant. I may have fallen asleep. Fine, I absolutely did—but you would have too if you had spent the past several months roaming nonstop! By the time I opened my eyes again, we had already arrived at one of those giant boxes that scaleless ones use as their den.

He picked the bundled-me up from the seat beside him and pulled part of the towel over my head so that I was completely covered. Once again, the outrage! What was the meaning of this? If I was to be kidnapped (catnapped?), I at the very least deserved to see to where I was being brought!

I tried to tell him as much, but he still wasn’t listening. Even worse, when I attempted (several times, I might add) to vent my frustration in an earth-shattering roar, all that came out were a series of unflattering squeaks that only served to make the scaleless one laugh. Curse my juvenile vocal cords!

He patted me through the towel, which did nothing to appease me. “I know you’re scared, little guy, but you’re going to have to be quiet, okay?”

Scared? He knew nothing. The only thing I was feeling right now was fury. How dare he try to silence me!

“Listen, my parents aren’t big on animals. Especially not cats. Not even kittens. So I’m going to have to keep you hidden. Not for too long, though, I promise. I just want to help you. It’s the least I can do after, you know, almost killing you. So can you work with me here?”

I paused my seething to consider this. He was talking to me as if he was expecting me to understand what he was saying, like he was aware that my intelligence was on par (one could even argue above, but I digress) with his. He was the first scaleless one I’d met to do so. The others spoke to me the same way they did to the lesser creatures, because that’s exactly what I looked like to them. And even though this one could not see what I actually was, perhaps I could give him a chance. He wanted to help me, he’d said. Maybe, eventually, he would help me find a member of his kind who could see. If that meant—even as I shuddered at the thought—living as his “pet cat” for who knew how long, then so be it.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” the scaleless one said as I stayed quiet. He gathered the bundle of me into his arms again. I was jostled around a bit as doors were opened and closed, and then the air changed. I could feel it, even while being completely wrapped in a towel. We were inside.

“Great news, the coast is clear. You get some time to explore while my parents aren’t here yet.” He put me down and the towel came off, revealing my new surroundings.

I have to admit, I was impressed. This place would have exceeded my expectations for what a scaleless one’s den would be like, if I’d had any expectations to begin with. Large, soft perches were arranged around the room, and there were even a few mounted on the walls—although those ones had various items on top of them. I would rectify that soon enough. A window was casting a tempting patch of sunlight on the floor. It was safe to say I would not be uncomfortable spending my time here.

The scaleless one sat on his knees beside me. “What do you think?”

He reached out a hand to me again, and I scrambled backwards to hide underneath the closest large perch. Why did they always feel the need to pet small creatures? I would have none of it. No matter how I appeared to him, I was not a kitten, and I refused to be treated as such.

I heard him release a breath. “Still scared? Yeah, I get it. Might as well look for some food for you in the meantime.”

The mention of food was enough for me to overlook the “scared” comment and reemerge from my hiding spot. It was dusty under there, anyway. I sneezed as soon as I crawled out, releasing a plume of smoke that would surely give me away.

A piercing sound made both of us jump.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The scaleless one used some kind of wooden pole to touch a circular object on the ceiling, and the blaring noise stopped. I wished I could say the same for the ringing in my head.

“Smoke detector,” he said to me by way of explanation. “That was weird. No idea why it went off.”

I tilted my head to stare at him. No idea? So that thing saw the smoke, but he hadn’t? This Felis cloak of mine had some interesting properties.

His eyes lit up. “Hey, that could be your name. Smoky. Because of that smoky-black color you’ve got going on.”

I nearly blew out another puff of smoke through my nostrils in my annoyance, but I didn’t want to set off the circular thing again, so I flicked my tongue at him instead (which, of course, he didn’t even notice). Typical of a scaleless one to call me something so simple. I’d overheard the names of their pets throughout my wanderings. Spot. Whiskers. Misty. Why should I even be surprised? I supposed I could humor him, though. My real name was much too sophisticated for him anyway.