Brightness hits my eyes before anything else.

"Unnnh.." I groan at the harsh light that forces me to wake up. My tail flickers behind me and I shudder as feel the crisp autumn wind.

"It's cold.." I stretch and brace myself for even more cold winds and a tiring day of looking for work or food. Or both, both is good, too.

People stare as I shift back from my cat form to my human form. I know it's cool, but staring is kind of rude.. I wince as someone drags their child away from the "scary, dirty cat-shifter".

My limbs are still sore. Maybe it's from running away from people who want to kill me? Or is it because of my awkward sleeping position? It's sad that I even have to wonder whether or not it's the first option.

I avoid eye-contact with everyone and walk with a steady, fast-paced gait because one wrong move could get me in a lot of trouble.

I find a nice tree to get comfortable in and I look around.

I watch as all the girls my age go to school in their pretty little uniforms. I can hear them complain about the uniforms and talk about how they won't miss high school when they all go off to college in the spring and how excited they are to be able to wear whatever they want.

"At least they can even go to school, or wear those pretty high school uniforms. I only went to school up to the 8th grade, so I havent't been to school in... 4 years.. Wow.." My eyes widen in this new thought, as I count the years on my fingers.

I jump down carefully, making no sound so that I don't "disrupt" the school girls.

I follow an interesting smell and I'm met by the entrance of a familiar bakery. The grandma who used to own this bakery used to let me wash her dishes in exchange for some bread and milk. Now it's owned by a man and his pregnant wife who both think that cat shifters shouldn't be allowed to live in the same territories as other creatures. I sigh as I turn my heels to look for work or food somewhere else.

I'm hit with a scrunched up paper brown bag. I look up at who threw it and I spot a group of high school boys laughing and high-fiving.

"Hey, you know what our ancestors used to do to things like you? They used to call you guys and force you to do our dirty work for us by whistling; it was called cat-calling!" one of them sneers, while his friends encourage him with their laughs and shouts of approval.

I can't do anything but politely smile, pretend not to understand and walk away. I'm clearly uncomfortable but it's not like I can say anything.

"Stupid dogs. Cat-calling was used as a way to try to pick up girls." My mother always told me about our species' history and slang terms before she and my father died.

"Cats used to be a beautiful, desired species, but these days, society has begun to change, I just hope it doesn't completely turn on us." I can still hear her voice talking to me in my mind.

"Shifter!"

I turn my head and see a plump old centaur, around 40 years, waving his hand to get my attention.