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Elke was late! So late! Painfully late! (But at least she'd gotten to brush her hair?) But that was why she was sprinting through the second floor, down the stairs, and through the first.

It wasn't that she had been screwing around. Her alarm hadn't gone off. The showers had been full. She had lost her favorite hairclip. Her History textbook, hidden under her desk; her bag, under the bed. Only now, fifteen minutes late, was she finally ready to see other people and be seen.

But instead of watching where she ran, she had been re-running her terrible, horrible, no-good morning in her head. And now it got even worse: she ran headlong into someone.

That someone was Sue Gottschalk. He was sitting on the steps outside of the dorm building, surrounded by... cats? Well, he liked cats. Was his 'thing'. Elke knew that. She knew that very well.

Late or not, she pulled out her camera and snapped a photo. It was a good photo of Sue. She'd put it in the yearbook.

She watched the cats bolt and put away her camera, just in case the scary boy was going to try anything. Well, if he did, she'd tell! She would go right to the administrators with this, especially if he broke her camera. "Not sneaking," Elke said, "And if I was, then it'd be a good thing, because now I have a cute picture of you for the yearbook! You won't have to scowl at anyone like last year."

With a shake of her head, she took a couple of steps backwards. "You're late for class," she said, tone hostile, eyes showing a little bit of fear and worry. Sue could be mean. He was mean. Elke didn't like mean people! Not at all! But what could she say? It sounded so negative! Negativity made Elke sad!

"Where did the kitties go," she asked, looking around.

"You looked like a jerk," said Elke, trying to snap but not really managing it. It was the truth, but it was such a mean truth, but it was! No one could get mad at her for telling the truth. "Nobody wants to be characterized as a jerk, you know you don't really want people to think you're a jerk." No one wanted to be thought of as a jerk. Not even Sue. Sue was a jerk, but he couldn't possibly want people to think he was.

Instead of giving voice to this terribly long thought, she stuck out her tongue. Incredibly immature, she scolded herself, but she couldn't help it! Who could?

She did like the kitties, though. Probably Sue wouldn't see her questions for what they were - sincere curiosity. "Don't the kitties get lonely?"

Of course he cared, Elke reassured herself. Everyone did, at least a little. Even Giselle cared about what people thought. She settled for giving Sue a Very Hurt look, her very green eyes almost shimmering as if with unshed tears.

Hey, it normally worked.

"You do too care," said Elke, "otherwise you wouldn't snap at me like a mean bullyface."

She frowned at him. Mean bullyface was totally a good descriptor, especially when he insinuated Elke would ever kick a kitty. "I would not kick a kitty," she said, "Kitties are cute."

Why didn't Sue like her, anyway? Elke couldn't quite remember.

Elke and Sue were soon to learn that feral cats weren't the only creatures mean enough to rip the skin off a person's bones.

A low rustle began to shake the bushes nearby the steps Sue had been sitting on, the noise almost too soft for either student to hear. It wasn't uncommon for wild animals to wander onto the campus, a raccoon here, a rabbit there, and a plethora of cats, to Sue's obvious pleasure. Despite how well kept it was, there never seemed to be a caretaker around to keep the plant life trimmed and presentable, to keep the animals away from the flowerbeds and bushes. No one ever questioned it. No one ever had a reason to.

Whatever the rustle was, it seemed to have its attention set on the two students. Perhaps it was a good thing that Mackie, Nibs and Stripey fled while they still could?

At the rustle in the bushes, Bartholomew yowled and nearly jumped out of his skin. A person showing up made him nervous, and so he'd stood downwind and watched - something in the bushes? If the cat had had more sense - been less of a lapcat, more of the stray his lifestyle called for - he would have been gone right then, heading for the safety of the far woods. But instead, his ears pricked on the top of his head; he skulked away from the noisy bush, half-circling it to get downwind and sniff.

Sue knew just as well as Bartholomew did, something in the bushes was bad. If it was another feral animal, then it could be dangerous. It certainly wasn't one of the other cats - Stripey had made off with the meat, so they'd be damn busy asserting their dominance to get the biggest share. But was it possible that it could be that strange cat from the other day? The chubby, pampered feline seemed like the sort that would trip over his own paws and make so much noise....

He was tired of listening to Elke's insistences that he cared more than he did, anyway. According to her own dogma, the best way to prove it was to ignore her - so he did. There was one thing in the world he cared to pay attention to, and in the off-chance it was a feral cat in those bushes, it was an excuse not to have to dignify Elke's ridiculous statement.

"Hello?" Sue called out, that little something magic slipping into his voice to make sure that those of the feline persuasion would be able to follow the words. "Who's sneaking around in the bushes? We're friendly here, it's all right...."

Elke shuddered as she started to back away from the bush and the growling, her entire body quaking at that voice. She was an optimist, yes, but the thing in the bushes didn't sound happy and she was not lacking for survival instinct, you know! Why hadn't she paid more attention in Biology?

God, it sounded like the thing was talking, like it wanted to communicate, but it wasn't speaking any language she knew. In fact, it sounded more like someone's throat had been ripped out than coherent words, but... it had that tempo.

"We should leave," said Elke, unconsciously including Sue; "We should leave."

The bush stilled as the students began to draw back, the air filled with an eerie silence, save for the scuffle of backpedaling shoes on the concrete steps of the building and the creak of the door as Sue opened it to allow both himself and Elke escape from whatever creature lurked within the schoolyard shrubbery.

It was as he was in the process of closing the door that an ungodly shriek pierced through the silence, loud and shrill enough for Elke to throw her hands up to muffle her ears without a second thought. Sue was quick enough to close the door as both students heard the frantic scramble of what could only be claws against the pavement. A sudden THUD against the door forced both students to step back, the double-doors trembling to withstand the force of whatever had just wailed against it. Yet another ear piercing shriek rang out and then another slam against the door ..... and then there was silence. Calm, terrifying silence.