Free Rakshasa by Alica Knight Page B

to my apartment in the pouring rain.
    Splash, splash went my ruined high heels as I trudged through the puddles on the footpath, arms huddled around me for warmth, trying to focus my mind on warming myself up. I thought of warm sunshine, of an electric heater, of a nice warm fuzzy blanket.
    A car drove behind me, headlights shining through the rain. I moved to the side, off the footpath, so that the inevitable splash from the wheels wouldn’t soak me further.
    I stepped right into a enormous dog crap. The splash got me anyway.
    It took me nearly half an hour, hopping between the sparse shelter offered by overhanging shop awnings, to finally drag my soaked, smelly, freezing self back to my apartment. A quick search of my purse revealed that my keys were missing. They must have fallen out when I pulled out my phone.
    I needed to get inside and an easily broken glass window was stopping me. My iPhone was a brick. This was an easy puzzle.
    I stepped back and hurled my dead phone through the window, then reached around and opened the door from the inside. I stumbled into my apartment, kicked off my stinking shoes near the door where the mess would be easy to clean up and sank onto the couch. I buried my face in the pillows and tried not to cry.
    Clinton, my cat, began sniffing at my hands. He purred and licked my wet fingers. I blindly reached for his head, giving his ears a playful scruff.
    “Hey, Clinton. My special little man.”
    I rubbed around and down his neck, tracing my fingers over his coarse fur.
    “How was your night, huh? Did you miss me when I was gone?”
    He purred, rubbing himself up against the side of the couch. Clinton wasn’t usually this affectionate. He must have sensed that I was upset. I gave his ears a rough scratching.
    “Yeah, I bet. You probably just want to be fed, don’t you, boy?”
    I interpreted his incessant meowing to be an answer in the affirmative. Groaning I hopped off the couch and wandered over to the kitchen, looking for cat food. I was out.
    “I’ll go shopping tomorrow,” I promised Clinton, reaching down to give his yowling self another pat. Strangely he didn’t seem to want food, but he kept yowling. Shrugging it off I walked down the corridor to my bedroom, tugged off the red dress and threw on a pyjamas top, then faceplanted in my nice warm bed. In moments I was sound asleep and dreaming.

    *****
    In the dream I wasn’t myself.
    I ran on all fours, crushing the grass beneath me. I had four, strong legs that were covered in orange and black stripes. My eyesight was clearer than it had ever been. My ears were like radar, hearing everything around me. Every scent excited me, caught my attention, and I felt alive.
    I stopped under a tree on the top of a hill and I felt my form melt away, standing upright and walking like a person. Now I was myself, again, with olive human skin. I was naked, without a single stitch of clothing, but it felt completely natural. The air, cool and refreshing, whipped around my body and the tree bent towards me, worshipping me. This place was high, I could tell by the cool, thin air. A small mountain, perhaps… a peak in the earth covered in lurid green grass and crowned by a single tree.
    “You took your time,” came a voice, a voice I remembered. The man from the bar. The wind continued to blow, whipping the grass around but making no sound; there was just breathing, and I felt hands, strong hands, slide around my hips. I smiled over my shoulder, closing my eyes, feeling the warmth of a chest pressing up against my back.
    “Did I? Aww,” I purred. It was my own voice, but odd; it was me and not me. My tone, my inflections, coming from my throat… but it was raw . Powerful. Strong. This wasn’t the voice of Libby the Loser, this was the voice of an animal set free. A powerful, impossibly confident creature who had nothing to fear from anyone. “I felt like I needed to stretch my legs.”
    “I was waiting for you, you know.” His strong