It was happening again.

Every year, one annual event brings my family stumbling into England. For no reason but to accept a prize, because my father is known as the world's best fisher. There's a competition to see who can catch the most fish in a day. My father won 74-92 against another person named Bill Hopps (I made that name up, Idk if he's a real well-known person).

Now we were sitting on the plane, halfway there.

I turned my head to the left. "How much longer is it going to be until we get there? I don't know how much longer I can last without my book."

"Well, where is it?"

I pointed to the suitcase above our heads. As a twelve year old who hadn't gotten his second growth spurt, I was way too short to reach it.

Dad stood up and grabbed the suitcase, unzipping the front pocket. I smiled, grabbing the book. "Thanks, dad." I hugged him and opened the book.

"Doors? I don't see any doors." Thomas knew Chuck wasn't just making stuff up — he knew he was missing something obvious. He grew uneasy and realized he'd slowed his pace, not so eager to reach the walls anymore.

Soon, after I had finished chapter four, made it through five, and halfway through the sixth, we landed. I put my bookmark in and closed the book. After we had gotten out of the plane, we claimed our baggage and then got to the car, where my uncle, who lived in England, was waiting for us.

He drove us to a nice hotel, where we entered and there was an old fireplace, a TV above it, a big couch straight across from it, and two small chairs angled slightly toward each other and slightly toward the TV and fireplace. There was also a long, black coffee table inbetween.

My uncle motioned for me to sit down. I sat on the couch next to him.

"How does it feel to be with just your guys?" He winked.

"Okay, I guess. It feels good to be away from the girls. They're all about hair. I mean, I like my hair to look good, but I don't restyle it just to restyle it. I always have a reason to do so."

Uncle Harris nodded. "I agree. Heck, I only ever restyle my hair if people say it doesn't look good."

I laughed. Uncle Harris laughed. Dad laughed. I turned my head. He was leaning over us, waiting. "Got us a room, Sean."

Uncle Harris smiled. "Stay safe, Chuck, Sean." Then he exited.

I grabbed my suitcase and dad grabbed his, and we walked into the elevator. Dad pressed the "6".

"Is there a balcony in our room?"

"You bet." He nudged me. "You can see the whole of Oxford from here."

I smiled. "Awesome!

Once we got to room 489, dad handed me the key while he fumbled for his phone in his pocket. I swiped the card, watched as the light turned green, and then opened the door. To the left there was the bathroom, and straight ahead there was a bigger opening with two big beds and a TV across from them.

To the right there was a counter, a mini-fridge, and a microwave on top. Inbetween the two beds there was a nightstand with a lamp. By the balcony doors (which you could spot from the doorway) there was a desk and a chair, and a laptop had even been set up. There was also a small armchair next to one of the beds as well.

Dad set his suitcase next to the first bed, to the left, and I set mine by the bed with the chair, the desk, and the balcony beside it. Dad and I walked out to the balcony. He started pointing things out to me, like the University and Botanic Garden, as well as the Blenheim Palace and the Bodleian Library.

"I can't wait to see everything!"

"And we will, as soon as I get my trophy." He winked at me. I smiled.

The wind blew, buffetting my hair and blowing it to the left. I squinted a bit. Dad went back inside, and so did I.

"Hey, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go outside?"

"Sure."

So we headed outside. There was a garden at the bottom floor, and we went there. We sat on a bench, and I noticed that there was a book laying on the bench. I picked it up. Warriors: Omen of the Stars: The Last Hope was written on the front. I shrugged and opened it. I skipped the publisher stuff and the allegiances and went to the first chapter. This is it- here you are. You have been called by the stars. Join us now and you will see, how hard warrior life can be.

A strange feeling hit me. I was being pulled forcefully, against my will. "Ahh! Dad, help!"

But dad paid no attention. He looked frozen, just staring at the gardens. I kept screaming, until the force had been released and I relaxed. But that was when I noticed that I was not on the bench with my dad anymore. I felt weird, and my body felt like clay, as if it was being molded into something. Except it was being molded into something. Panicking, I screamed again, calling for my dad.

No one answered.

I collapsed on the ground, panting and shaking. I opened my eyes blearily. In front of me were... Paws?

I lifted an arm, eyes widening. The paw belonged to me.

"No. No, no, no, no!" I wailed. How will I ever get back to my dad now?

I tried to pull myself onto my feet, and succeeded, but when I tried walking on two legs alone, I fell again.

Narrowing my eyes determinedly, I tried again. But this time I walked on all fours. It felt strange, but right at the same time.

I... I'm a cat now.

I gulped. Does that mean I have to learn how to hunt, and fight?

I thought back to the words in the book. You have been called by the stars.

It was daytime, though. So that was no help. I tried walking in the direction of where I had been facing before, and the trees began to get darker. The ground turned marshy. Pine needles littered the ground.

I sighed, wondering if "the stars" could help me in some way or another. Suppressing another sigh, I sat down. The sky had grown darker by now, and I was getting awfully tired after the events of the day. I dug out a shallow hole and planted myself in it, curling up with a yawn.

After a long day of traveling and walking, I was glad to finally close my eyes and drift off to sleep.