Ash was a cat. A cat with prominent ears, long whiskers and an elongated body reminding us of the grace often associated with cats. Ash was laying sprawled on the couch, having strategically left the warmth of the heater to enjoy one of the rare rays of sunshine through the commonly gloomy, grey sky. Not only was the couch perfectly oriented so she was enjoying the sun, but she was also keeping a close eye on the living room. Not that many things were happening, of course, today was Monday and her humans had abandoned her again for the day. But she didn’t mind. After all, while she loved her humans, they simply didn’t get her. They never seemed to understand the importance of napping throughout the day, nor the urgent need to wake up at 6 a.m. to see dawn–no matter how insistent she was trying to rouse them.

No. Humans were fine, but they simply didn’t get it. Still sprawled on the couch, Ash surveyed the living room. A light wooden table was occupying the centre of the room, surrounded by elegant, cushioned chairs. In one corner, an old leather armchair sat by some shelves, where a series of books were displayed. The angle couch she was laying on stood in the opposite corner, right below one of the windows. Ash loved looking through the windows. She would sometimes catch a glimpse of a bird, or a bee, or would simply look at the teeming human activity that would happen way below. Her favourite time by far was the evening, though. When dusk was creeping in, the city would start shining with thousand colours, highways would illuminate and each and every one of the windows out there would be casting a warm, yellow glow. The rare ray of sun had long since disappeared to leave in its place Ash’s favourite time of the day. ‌‌As she stepped down from the couch, she heard a faint whistle. A faint whistle that sounded like the wind. Surely the humans had closed all windows, hadn’t they? They always did, afraid as they were that she would leave the flat. The sound seemed to come from the bedroom. Ash entered the room and quickly looked for the window. Maybe, if it was unlocked she could enjoy a walk outside. Dreams of catching city rats, chasing pigeons and snatching restaurants’ foods all vanished however as she found the window closed. Closed? How could it be? The whistling was louder than ever now, but if not coming from the window, then where from?

Ash stepped closer to the window. She had to be sure. Maybe a trick of the light made it appear closed.‌‌ On closer inspection, the window was well and truly closed. The noise’s volume kept rising such that by now it was almost painful. She turned back. The room was remarkably sober. A tall, ominous wardrobe was looking down on a queen size bed. On each side of the bed, two small bed tables bore the human’s respective gadgets. Each of them had cable chargers that Ash always loved gnawing–the mushy feel always felt so good and the odour of plastic was simply enthralling. Despite the humans’ obvious annoyance at her behaviour, she had been gnawing at them for as long as she could remember. It was just that good. ‌‌The sound seemed to come from under the bed. Crouching–she wasn’t as small as she used to be–Ash stepped into this dark place. Something was shining in there, but what had been a whistling now reminded her of the sounds of nature, with bird calls and a river flowing. A book was glowing, and, as incredibly as it seemed also appeared to be the one responsible for the noise.

Ash couldn’t help it. Hackled raised, she hissed loudly. This was certainly not something she had ever seen. Humans were always playing with book-like devices that would display flashy colours and produce sounds. However, in comparison to this, they seemed like a crude comparison. This, Ash thought, was definitely falling under the category of actual magic. The name “Wild Grimoire of the Underbed” came to mind. It was a fitting name. ‌‌Ash crept closer again, although every single of her feline instincts screamed to run away. With a deft paw, she touched it. Nothing happened. By that point, the otherworldly songs of birds felt eery, such a stark contrast it was from the silent bedroom. What was more, no smell at all was coming out of the book. No movement, either. Only the glow of the book sitting in front of Ash illuminated the cramped space beneath the bed.

Steadying her nerves, Ash advanced her paw towards the book, again. Then, slowly, carefully, she opened it. The leathery book cover easily gave way to pages and pages of symbols. Ash couldn’t read–it wasn’t common for cats to be able to–but she thought that those symbols looked different than what her humans were usually decyphering. The glowing page was at the centre of the book. Ash pressed on, and then finally managed to open the book to that page.

A sense of vertigo immediately took over her. She was staring at a completely different landscape that seemed like it expanded beyond the page, downwards, into the floor. Birds were flying, trees and green grass and flowers flourishing left and right. Eager to get a better view, Ash closed in on the page, her snout getting closer, closer, almost touching…‌‌ It happened before she even had the time to register. One moment she was still under the bed, the other she was being catapulted forward, or was it downward? She landed hard, sprawled on the ground. Cats obviously didn’t always land on their feet, change of gravity notwithstanding.

Her heart rate rising, all senses on alert, Ash jumped back to her legs and tried to get a look at her surrounding. Before any other sense, however, the one that responded first was her sense of smell. Pollen, wilderness, grass, water and everything nature had to offer came rushing to her, finally bridging the image she had seen in the book with what it should smell like. As impossible and ununderstandable as it was, she seemed, by all accounts to be in the book. While at her paws light dirt lay, in front of her was the same dreamlike scenery she had glimpsed from under the bed, with grass and flowers seeming more real than ever. She seemed to be at the entrance of a burrow. Turning back, she peered at the darkness of the tunnel she appeared to have come through. The bright daylight ahead–how could it be the day when she had just left dusk–made it hard for her to adjust her vision to see anything of what was happening in the tunnel. After a short while, she managed to spot what seemed like the bottom of a bed. Well, if anything, spotting a bed lying deep in a burrow was what was making the most sense so far.

Now she had a choice. Either she would come back to the safety of her house, or she would venture ahead and explore this new world. Certainly, she could try to go back and forth between the two worlds, but what guarantee did she have that the portal would remain open? No, there really was only viable option: adventure! ‌‌The terrain was not flat. Rather, the burrow she had come from had positioned her on a slant that would either lead down to a valley where large animals seemed to peacefully graze or up a hill. Adventure it was, and while examining those large cow-like animals seemed interesting, getting a proper view of what she was dealing with seemed like the obvious logical choice.

Ash paused. This was an obvious logical choice, yes. This was not what her feline instincts would have urged her to go for. A strange feeling she couldn’t really shake off came over her as she started up the hill. ‌‌As the minutes–or were they hours–passed, the generous grass gave way to more rocky ground. But despite the evident change of scenery, she didn’t seem any closer than she had been to reaching the top. She turned back, trying to gauge the distance covered.

Her breath caught. This… was not the same scenery. There was no valley anymore. Instead, she was at the very start of what seemed a long, long hike to a mountain. The vivid grassland and peaceful animals had given way to a barren landscape, its monotony only broken by the occasional boulder. A deep feeling of anxiety started to come over her. Her paws were bleeding, such distance she had covered. Her snout was drier than it had ever been, she felt hunger like she never did and tiredness was menacing to overcome her. She sat. She had to think. Now was not the time for panic. ‌‌As she observed her surrounding once more, she saw what seemed a large bird approach. The sun was still high, and its brilliance was preventing her from spotting any more details about the winged creature.

For what was approaching was not a bird. No, this was much bigger. Jumping on all four, hackles raised, Ash puffed her tail as much as she could so she could impress the newcomer. ‌‌She landed smoothly. She was a cat. She had wings. Thoughts that didn’t make sense were trying to fit one another. The stranger spoke.‌‌‌‌‌‌ “Hi, Ash. I see you’ve managed to find your way to this land.”

Ash stared blankly. The… the beast–for lack of a better word–spoke what seemed like human speech. A human speech she could understand. ‌‌‌Seeming to understand her dazed expression, the stranger continued.

“I know everything must be extremely confusing to you at the moment.“‌‌

“I reckon I didn’t react any better the first time I arrived. In fact, I hid and hissed and closed my eyes hoping everything would stop,” she added.

As ‌‌dazed as she was, Ash gathered her wits and attempted what seemed like a stupid idea. She attempted to speak. As she opened her mouth and expulsed air from her lungs, a gurgled sound came out. Well, what had she been expecting? The stranger seemed to patiently wait and was smiling encouragingly. Again, Ash tried. “What…” she croaked.

That was a word. A word! How, why? She was a cat, she was Ash. She lived with humans in a big city and her favourite time of day was dusk! As she spoke her first word, a whirlwind of thoughts and questions sprang to her mind as she desperately tried to hang onto what she knew.

“Do not be afraid,” the stranger said. “My name is Lylla. You have come into a world that is different from the one you know, where the same rules don’t apply.”

“Here, we can become what we wish. Here, we can truly live, we can evolve, we can think. It takes practice, but anything can be done.” As to support her claims, Lylla unfolded her wings. Ash couldn’t help but marvel at their complexity and beauty. The sun gleamed through what seemed to be a thin, leather skin.

Lylla smiled. “Today, however, is not the day you will get this practice. Now, you must go home. But I am sure we will have more time to see each other.”

Impossibly, Ash spotted what she had not a couple of minutes earlier. In between two rocks, at the base of a large boulder, there was a hole. A familiar hole. A hole that looked quite like a burrow, the very same burrow, in fact, she had come from in a very different place. Casting a quick glance at Lylla, Ash crept closer until she could make out the under-bed.

Adventurous she was, but this was too much for her to handle. Half expecting Lylla to stop her, Ash dived head-first into it. She couldn’t see it, but Lylla gazed serenely at her as she did so, the corners of her mouth twitching.

With a start, Ash opened her eyes. The dark night had long since taken the place of dusk and she was still sprawled on the couch. She heard a ringing of keys and the door opened, letting her humans in to the flat. This had all been a dream. A vivid, surreal, incredible dream. Now, however, was the time to eat.

And, as any cat would, Ash came and meowed at her humans until food was served. She ate, ravenous as if she had actually hiked that mountain–she somehow still felt a tingling in her paws. But as she did so, she caught glimpses of their conversation. An eery feeling crept over her.

The humans were speaking, and yet Ash could make out the words.