Free I Was An Alien Cat Toy by Ann Somerville

down. The flickering candlelight made him look even
    more alien, primitive, but this wasn’t just some dumb animal. It was a creature as smart—maybe smarter—
    than Temin, and much, much stronger. Whatever it wanted, wouldn’t be something as simple as dead prey.
    The paw moved down over his groin, and began to knead, claws half-retracted, ready to spring out
    again in a microsecond. Temin started to struggle frantically as he suddenly realised what was going on, and
    sheft it, he wasn’t going to let this thing molest him again. He screamed through the gag, but the braid was
    just pulled tighter, forcing his head back against the younger male’s chest. The boyfriend chirruped—he was
    pleased at his reaction. Sick fuck! Temin yelled in his head.
    The candle flickered again, suddenly went out. But cats could see in the dark.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Free at last, Gredar fairly ran up the stairs. Now he’d done his duty to the clan for a cycle, he could
    look forward to a nice long uninterrupted time in the settlement—and time with Kirin, whom he’d missed.
    Funny how a dumb creature could be such good company, and Gredar had got used to his strange, naked
    features, his odd vocalisations. He was probably getting soft in his old age, he told himself as he went to open
    his door. But as he put his hand on the latch, he stopped, sniffing at the cloying stench of rot, decay, drifting
    out from inside his room.
    He opened the door, and the smell became overpowering. He nearly gagged, his hand over his nose
    barely mitigating the reek. Kirin lay motionless on the bed and didn’t react at all to his arrival. Gredar threw
    his pack down and dashed over to the bed, seized with fear that his pet had died and been left to putrefy.
    With relief, he quickly realised that most of the smell was coming from rotting food in the bowl on the
    ground and from a dirty litter tray, and that Kirin, huddled under his furs, was breathing. But that relief
    disappeared in moments as he knelt and sniffed—some of the sickly smell was definitely coming from his
    pet, and that Kirin might be breathing but he was far from well. What the paznitl had happened to him? His
    face was bruised and swollen, and his skin was....
    Gredar jerked back his hand—Kirin was on fire with fever, his breathing ragged and laboured, rattling
    in his chest. Gredar ripped the furs back, making Kirin whimper, but he had to get him cool. Water,
    water...the water bowls were empty. Bone dry in fact, and when he dashed into the washroom to check, there
    was nothing in the ewer either.
    “I’m going to get help, little one, don’t move.” Kirin clawed weakly at his throat—to his horror,
    Gredar now saw the collar was cutting into his swollen neck, and some of the raspiness in Kirin’s breathing
    had to be because he was close to choking. “I’m so sorry, pretty one,” Gredar said, desperately fumbling at
    the catch on the collar and flinging it aside. Kirin went limp when the collar was gone, his dark eyes staring
    emptily up at the ceiling—he didn’t even seem to notice Gredar was there. “Stay still, I’ll be back soon.”
    “Jilen!” he bellowed as he ran down the stairs. “Jilen! Buhi!” Where was everyone?
    Karwa poked his head out. “Uncle Gredar? Grandmother wants to know what you’re shouting for.”
    “Where’s your aunt Jilen? I need her, urgently!”
    “In the kitlings’ room—come on.”
    His nephew took his hand and together they ran up the west staircase. Gredar burst into the bedroom.
    “Jilen, please, come—Kirin’s dying!”
    His twin was holding her youngest kits over her shoulders, rubbing their backs as if she’d just
    finished feeding them. It was undoubtedly an inconvenient time, but she handed her children over to her
    nephew to hold without the slightest demur.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked as she stood, composed as always.
    “He’s, he’s....” Gredar swallowed, still in