Part 1- Sere and Emera
There was the mouse! It was plump and looked juicy: the perfect dinner for a cat of Emera's status. It was standing under the flower table sniffing the ground and grooming its whiskers. Silently, the black cat dropped into a crouch and crept towards it. It kept on cleaning its whiskers, unaware of the danger approaching. Just as Emera thought she had dinner covered, it raced off into the ballroom, dodging people's legs. Yowling in anger, Emera sped after it, ignoring her restrictions in the palace.
People gasped in surprise as a black cat suddenly appeared near them or wove under their legs. Duchess Flarairo, who was very superstitious, went as far as yelling that everybody was cursed with seven years of bad luck now. The King and Queen, Emera's "parents", were shocked that their normally very civil cat was ruining the most important festivity of the year.
Whispering a few words into Emera's caretaker's ear, the King sent him off into the chase too. He ran around the nearly empty ballroom trying to catch Emera and avoid the few unfortunate people who hadn't yet backed out. One of these people was a girl around the age of thirteen who got pushed down by the caretaker's flailing arms. Embarrassed, but angry, she got up again only to fall back down when Emera jumped into her arms.
The caretaker stomped over and grabbed Emera by the scruff of her neck. He marched her over to the main door and threw her out into the night. Shocked, Emera just sat on the front steps under the stars. A cool wind rustled her fur and the clouds covered the moon, plunging her into the darkness that she felt. What had just happened? Had she, Emera, Royal Cat of the House of Elmira, just missed dinner and gotten exiled from the palace in the same night?
Oh no, she fretted, am I one of those mangy strays now? She meowed sadly and slunk away into the night, her pelt blending in perfectly.
Just then, the guests started to empty out from the festivities. Chatting about the decorations, food, and people, they filed away pleased. Only Emera's caretaker seemed ticked. "Where has that stupid cat gotten to now?" he mumbled, looking about with a scowl on his face. Not seeing her, he stalked away to tell the King and Queen. On his way inside, he brushed past the girl he had knocked over earlier. She frowned and walked out.
In all truth, Sere, the girl, was not rich or of nobility. She had been there helping DuchessYillian get around. The Duchess was ninety-four and needed help walking, so Sere had gone as a walking stick. She flipped her white hair back and ignored the stares of the aristocrats. They didn't know how she had gotten it and if they did, they would have been giving her a lot more positive attention. Still, she didn't like to talk about it.
Emera saw the girl she'd jumped to for safety. She'd seemed nice. Trotting behind her, she followed quiet as a shadow.
Sere turned the corner to her family's humble hut. Dismayed, she stopped in her tracks and looked on in horror. The hut was in flames and thieves ran into the woods behind it. She didn't even feel the little black bundle that bumped into her legs, stunned.
She saw one thief kick a bloody bundle at the door. A pale hand fell limply out. "Ohhhh," Sere sobbed. "What have I done to deserve this?" She fell to the ground and sat weeping there. Emera wrapped her tail around Sere's wrist and meowed. The girl didn't even look up. Too scared to see the dead bodies, she turned around. Well what good is this, the cat thought, to sit here moping?
It seemed Sere thought the same thing for she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and stood up. "It seems the world has deemed me an adult," she said, speaking to the wind. The grief inside of her was still cascading down, but the false face helped a bit.