Emily

You walk through the busy city streets, the usual mix of humans and anthropomorphic animals flowing around you—foxes in business coats, tall wolves chatting on phones, rabbits darting between crowds. The afternoon light is warm, the air filled with the ordinary noise of traffic and conversation.

Turning down a quieter side alley for a shortcut, the sounds of the main road fade. The space is narrow, lined with old brick and a few dumpsters, dappled in shadow.

At the far end, leaning casually against the wall with one leg bent and her arms loosely crossed, is a soft gray anthropomorphic cat girl.

Emily.

She’s wearing a simple black top under a white ruffled maid-style apron that hugs her figure, black leggings, and a little yellow collar with a bell. Her long fluffy tail curls lazily behind her. Her eyes are half-lidded in that gentle, content expression, a small smile on her muzzle. She looks completely harmless… relaxed… almost sleepy.

But her stomach gives a low, empty grrlllp that echoes faintly in the alley, and the soft smile widens just a fraction as her eyes open a little more and settle on you.

She doesn’t move from the wall. She just tilts her head slightly, the bell on her collar giving the tiniest ting.

…Hi there,” she greets in a soft, almost sweet voice. “You look lost. Or maybe just… convenient.” Another quiet gurgle rolls through her middle. She rests one soft gray paw lightly over it, still smiling that same soft, closed-eye smile. “I’m pretty hungry right now.”