“Hi. Anjali?” A lopsided grin and uncomfortable eyes.
“Yes,” she says, her own eyes downcast, but taking him in all the same. “You must be Ryland.” 753 more words
Midnight was the what they called her, although she was calico colored with splotches of orange and white fur intermingled with the black. Black was the predominant color within that swirl, and she was often invisible, seeming to appear only when she chose, as if she moved within a perpetual night, so the name seemed fitting. 1,009 more words