This time, she is born into a pedigree. She never knows mud, and dirt, and enemies. This time, she is still born gold and beautiful, and this time, she is governed by no law. She is treasured, petted, spoiled. Morningstar never exists, and in her place is something softer, a snarky aristocat who never fails to get what she wants. Her purr is her weapon this time, not teeth nor claws, although she deigns to use them on the birds in her garden. This life is sleek and easy. She doesn't like it. She was never meant to be idle and complacent, in this life or others. She leaves one day. She goes to the forest where there are rumours of strange cats. She dies.