In moments like this, Espurr would normally mouth something witty about life hitting her like a truck. She was a tad winded right now, though, and it would honestly be on the nose. Her head hurt too much for it anyway.
She'd been running somewhere very important, and now she was probably bleeding out, so… she'd never make it there. It was strange how calm she felt. Given she was dying, it should've been easier to have an opinion about that. She'd read about shock after injuries and wondered if this was it.
Her head really hurt. Was she so sure it was a truck? It felt like a bus.
The crash must have mangled her something nasty. Everything felt wrong, too short or strange or bent out of shape. She opened her eyes and was surprised to find they still worked. Dense, interweaving treetops met her gaze, blurring together like an abstract painting. Or perhaps that was the headache talking.
She sat up. Somehow, despite the obvious mangling, she could still do that. Her nose wrinkled: the stench, floating on the wind, was revolting. Was this how dying smelt? She'd read about that too.
Wherever she was, she was alone. And there was no hint of pavement. Trees surrounded her, overcast by shadows. The ground was covered in dead leaves, mossy roots, and low ferns. Not even the crickets chirped here. The sound of the wind left as quickly as it came, leaving only the eerie rustling of dead leaves in its wake. Quiet, tense unease replaced it.
“H… Hello?” she croaked, looking around the vast, dark clearing as she rose to a sitting position. “Daniel? Anyone?”
It was only when Espurr's hand passed in front of her that she sharply gasped. It didn't look like her hand… and that caused her to snap awake and look at herself for the first time.
Strangely, she wasn't dying. Or bleeding out. But this might've been worse? Her body was coated in bushy lavender fur, extending into white on her arms and legs. She could feel her ears, large and floppy, hugging her head. A fluffy, catlike tail swished behind her. She could feel it move, every motion alien and unwanted.
Her head spun staring at all of it. She'd died, hadn't she. She'd died and gone wherever dead people go, and she was starting to think it was some sort of purgatory because no-one else was here, and she was some sort of cat, and—
Swish.
The sound of long grass and low ferns parting made Espurr's senses snap back to her. She went still and silent, her tail puffing up, and carefully twisted her head towards the sound.
In the darkness of the woods, where the trees leaned inwards and the light didn't venture, her new, sharp eyes made out the outlines of three figures watching her. They stood thrice her height, their posture like full-grown men, but they were thin and bony, crooked at the shoulder, and tall, pointy hats rose out of their heads. They didn't move a millimetre, and they didn't make a sound. Unsure of what to make of it, Espurr stumbled to shaky, unfamiliar feet, wobbling against a tree for balance.
"Hello?" she asked with a trembling, scratchy voice.
There was no response from the three figures in the shadows. They simply remained fixated on her, their heads and pointy cones following every movement she made. Then, after a long, uncomfortable silence, they turned to themselves, holding up their arms.
Lights flickered from bulbs on their palms, alternating and blinking in strength quickly – red, green, yellow. As the lights flashed, Espurr saw them clearly: shrivelled faces shrouded behind gleaming, pinprick eyes, thick and angular cloaks, limbs long and bulky, and each with a crooked skin-cone that stretched far above their heads.
Her eyes widened. She squeaked in fear, stumbling back and tripping on a stick.
Crunch. Thud. The loud sound brought the Coneheads' attention right back to her. Espurr froze on the ground, eyes wide, breathing violently. The lights vanished, and suddenly they were shrouded by shadows, impossible to see. A whistle was her only warning: a ball of darkness flew out of the shadows, headed straight for her—
Luckily, cats had quick reflexes. Espurr threw herself out of the way just in time, hitting the ground and rolling away. She didn't see what happened to the bush behind her. The sound of roots twisting and branches snapping told her it wasn't good.
Swish. The Coneheads glided out of the shadows, moving swift and silent and uniform. As they brushed up against the shrubbery, Espurr saw how they floated – shrunken, underused legs dangling beneath sleek cloaks as they glided.
She broke off into a run.
Her unfamiliar legs failed her. She tripped several times. Her body hit the ground, painfully. Sticks and pebbles and leaves scraped her with each fall. She picked herself up, running desperately until she could no longer hear the swish of parting ferns or see the gleam of a light between the trees.
She stopped in the middle of another, darker clearing. Espurr collapsed to her paws and knees, panting wildly as the fear wore off. Her chest hurt, her lungs couldn't take in enough air, and her body screamed with aches and pains.
But she had to keep walking. Safety seemed farther away than ever now. Dead leaves, thick foliage, and tall, mossy tree trunks decorated every inch of the eerie, silent forest. The light was slowly seeping away, the trees looming further and further with each lost beam. Espurr's stomach rumbled, and she felt her tail and ears flop down miserably with the hunger pangs. Wasn't there anything to eat around here?
