Record 23 – More Than Curiosity

A second cat descended from the roofs. She moved differently from the tom – light, smooth, almost silent. A slim white she-cat, fur clean even in this broken city, golden eyes bright like warm metal. She didn’t circle us. She didn’t test the air. She simply sat down in front of me, tail wrapped neatly around her paws, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment.

“You read human words,” she said. Not a question. A statement laid out like a fact of nature.

I hesitated, feeling the weight behind her words. Then I nodded.

The reply rippled upward. On the rooftops, paws shifted. Claws tapped metal. Low whispers ran along the cat lines like wind passing through leaves. Curiosity, yes – but something stronger beneath it. Like they had expected this. Or feared it.

Repsik moved closer to me, almost touching my side. Not a choice. A reflex. A thin line of protection he didn’t think about.

The white she-cat’s gaze slid to him too. She studied him with the same quiet certainty. “Both of you woke early,” she said. “We felt it.”

Her voice didn’t tremble. It didn’t doubt. It spoke like someone who already understood more than she planned to share.

I swallowed. “Felt what?”

She didn’t look at me. She looked at the sky – the pale noon light, the drifting clouds, the strange hum hanging over the city. “The change,” she said softly.

Above us, more cats began to climb down, one by one, forming a quiet circle around us. Their eyes glowed. Their steps were slow.

Something was gathering.
Something more than curiosity.