He stood awkwardly at the gas station, doing his best not to make eye contact with the cashier, a man so lifeless he looked like he'd just died there, standing up. Still, he managed to mumble, "Uh… one pack, please." The cashier slid the pack over without looking up.
A few minutes later, he walked out into the evening gloom, cigarette already lit, smoke curling from his thin lips. He didn't even like the taste, it just gave his hands something to do. He took a step out onto the sidewalk, and a cat shot past him, making him jump and drop his cigarette. Dang it, he thought to himself.
He got another one from the pack and tucked it between his lips. Kept it unlit as he continued down the road. The streets were unusually empty. No cars, no voices, just the distant buzz of a streetlight flickering like it was struggling to stay awake. Even the air felt still. Too still. Like the world was holding its breath.
The cigarette wobbled slightly in his mouth as he walked. The road was completely empty.
The cat appeared again. The same black fur. The same glowing yellow eyes that didn't reflect the light. Only this time, it was watching him. Not darting. Not running. Just… waiting. It sat on the curb, watching him like he was some puzzle it was trying to solve. He'd seen it three times today. Different streets. Different times. Always there.
He froze, pretending he just wanted to light his cigarette. He flicked the lighter open. Once. Nothing. Twice. It sparked. Again nothing.
He shot a quick glance at the cat, hoping it was gone. It wasn't.
Finally, on the third try, it caught. The flame dancing in his hand. He held it up to the cigarette in his mouth, eyes flicking toward the cat, silently hoping it would disappear. It didn't. So, swallowing his paranoia, he started past it.
It didn't move when he walked past. Just blinked slowly, like it had already decided something about him.
He sped up, clutching his lips tighter around his cigarette, heart pounding. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Again. Closer now. The cat was there again, always just behind him, never moving, just watching.
No one else noticed. No one ever noticed.
Every time he looked, it was there. Not walking, somehow already sitting on the corner behind him.
He continued walking as the darkness seemed to bend and twist like living things. Was that a flicker? A face? Or just his mind bending the night into shapes it wanted to see? He swallowed hard, trying to shake the feeling that he was being watched.
His fingers tightened in his pockets. He knew what he saw. The cat's eyes seemed to burn holes in the night. For a moment, the street bent and warped, the humming lights stretching into shapes he couldn't unsee. His breath caught. Was he losing it? Or was this real?
His skin crawled.
What the—what is this? No… no… can't be. Can it be? He thought to himself.
He crossed the street without looking. Didn't care if he was jaywalking. Just wanted space between him and those eyes. His heart was in his throat now, pounding so loud he barely heard the screech.
The headlights flared white in his vision. They stretched toward him like claws.
Impact. A snap of bone and air crushed out of his chest.
The pavement rushed up, hard and unforgiving. His cigarette fell slowly from his lips as he bounced to the ground. He watched as the smoke slowly spiraled up until there was nothing left, snapping him back to reality.
The pavement and road seemed to disappear under his body as the world slowly went black.
Through the smoke, he caught the cat's yellow eyes, calm, unblinking, almost… knowing.
The cat was right there, inches from his face, tail flicking once. It blinked at him, slow, deliberate.
The world tilted, darkness rushing in, and he swore, just before everything went black, it smiled.
-
-
-
-
-
Hugo opened his eyes slowly.
"Get up! MOVE!" Someone yelled in a demanding and frightening voice.
He squinted against the light, half-asleep. "Paramedics really take their jobs seriously," he thought, rolling over. His head ached like he'd slept on concrete. Someone, probably a very committed EMT, was shaking him violently, yelling in his face.
"…Uh… sure, hang on," he muttered, head spinning.
His head throbbed as he blinked at the bright light. Something felt… off. The air smelled almost metallic, like blood, or maybe it was just his own panic? His pulse kicked up, fast, and every shadow seemed to twitch at the edge of his vision.
He slowly turned his head, and froze. No hospital. No street. Just… shapes. Shapes moving too fast, too stiff.
Every step could trigger disaster. Every glance could be a mistake. It felt like maybe the world had already decided he was expendable.
Panicking, he fumbled through his pockets, hunting for a cigarette. He finds his box and grabs one of only two left. He fumbled with the lighter, sparks sputtering. "Come on! If I could just..., maybe the world would stop spinning", he muttered, teeth clenched. The cigarette finally caught, and he inhaled shakily, gripping onto the tiny sense of control.
As he exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding, a puff of gray smoke slowly filled the air. He swallowed hard. His shaking fingers slowly calming down. "I died. This is Heaven? No... no that couldn't be... so Hell? Am I just dreaming?" He said to himself trying to reason with the unreasonable.
He didn't like smoking. Never has. But it made him feel more in control. Flame, smoke, inhale, exhale. Something predictable to hang onto.
"Where am I?" He thought in between puffs.
Then, finally, he pushed himself upright. Sitting up, fully awake now, as his brain tried to process the scene.
The "paramedic" was definitely not a paramedic. She was a girl, standing over him with a wooden staff, a purple crystal glimmering at the top. Behind her, flames thrashed against the walls of a village. Smoke curled through the air. The smell of burning wood stinging his nose.
Hugo blinked at her reddish hair glinting inches from him, then at the flames tearing through the village. He took another drag. "Right. Definitely not paramedics."
"Sleeping during an invasion?!" the girl shouted, exasperated. "Seriously? NOW?! AND NOW YOU'RE SMOKING?!"
Hugo rubbed his eyes, trying to think.
A figure with a pumpkin for a head sprinted down the street. The carved smile looked unnervingly cheerful in all the chaos. Behind it, a deer, a squirrel, and a flock of birds were in full pursuit, snapping, leaping, and diving like it was the most important meal of their lives. Hugo barely registered the chaos before it vanished from his sight.
"…Did I just see…?" He shook his head trying to wake up from this surreal dream.
"DONT JUST SIT THERE!" The girl yelled.
He looked up at her. Taking notice of her appearance. Her cloak was torn, streaked with soot, but she still held herself like a soldier. Her fiery red hair tied into a ponytail.
Her eyes, glowing amber and burning with the same fire that licked at the village walls, were now fixed squarely on him. She wasn't afraid, not like the others screaming and running in the distance. No, this girl looked like she was used to standing in fire.
"Are you even listening?!" she barked, shaking her staff at him. The crystal at the top pulsed faintly, like it was waiting for her command.
Hugo blinked, cigarette dangling from his lips. He exhaled smoke in her direction, buying time to think. "Sorry. Just taking in the whole… apocalyptic nightmare vibe. Really sells itself."
Her jaw clenched. "This isn't a nightmare—it's an invasion! Get up before they—"
A roar tore through the air. Hugo's stomach dropped. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
The girl whipped her head toward the sound, staff raised. Her body tensed, ready to fight. Meanwhile Hugo's cigarette trembled between his fingers as he whispered, more to himself than her, "...Nope. Definitely a nightmare."
And then the smoke curled upward, and for a second, in the drifting gray, Hugo thought he saw two yellow eyes staring back at him.
The roar tore through the burning village like the sky itself was splitting open.
Hugo froze, cigarette halfway to his lips.
The girl didn't hesitate. She moved. Staff raised, feet planted like she'd been through this before. "On your feet! Unless you want to die before you've even figured out where you are!"
Hugo snaps back to reality at the mention that there are answers to his questions. He stared blankly at her, then at the smoke curling above the ruined rooftops. His brain still hadn't caught up.
The ground trembled. Something massive shifted beyond the wall of fire. Hugo's words dried up in his throat. Did it follow me? He thought to himself.
The girl grabbed his collar and yanked him upright. "Move!" She yelled into his face.
He stumbled forward, nearly losing his cigarette. "Alright, alright! No need to manhandle me—"
They book it out of town , tripping past people who are scrabbling to get out of the town. The roar came again, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Screams bled through the smoke, people running, crying, shoving past them.
Hugo tried not to look too closely. Every glimpse made his stomach lurch. His brain kept whispering, That's not real, it's not real, you're still on the asphalt, bleeding out. As he looked back, once they got past the walls of the city his eyes caught something impossible, a giant black cat, eyes glowing yellow like embers, watching him knowingly from the shadows, as it terrorized the city. As the smoke from the burning houses covered its face Hugo swore that it smiled.
"A-A... A CAT!!..." Hugo screamed in terror as he stumbled backwards losing his cigarette, "it's the cat..."
The girl shook him firmly. "There's no cat! Snap out of it! You're seeing things... great just what I needed. a parasite who is afraid of the dark."
But Hugo's legs gave way beneath him as he continued scrabbling backwards.
"It's right there! Look! LOOK!" His voice cracked as he jabbed a finger toward the flames.
She grabbed his face, both hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. "There. Is. Nothing. There," she said, eyes locked to him.
Hugo's breathing was ragged, heart thundering like it was trying to escape his chest. The world spun, but then her hands grounded him. Her fire-lit eyes didn't waver. The chaos of the burning village dulled in his ears for just a second.
The cat was gone.
Only smoke. Only fire.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
"I... I know what I saw..." He said quieter now. Almost unconvinced.
"Sure you do" she said gently but bitterly as she let go of his face and stood, brushing ash from her gloves.
"Come on. We can't stay here," she said, voice steadier now, like she'd slipped back into a routine she knew too well.
Hugo said nothing. Just stood up slowly, legs weak, eyes still flicking toward the smoke. But the cat was gone. Maybe it had never been there.
They moved quickly through the trees, the firelight fading behind them. The screams grew distant. Then vanished.
The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
Neither of them spoke.
Only when the sound of rushing water reached their ears did Lyra finally say, "We'll rest here for now."
-
-
-
-
-
They settled by the edge of the river, far enough from the burning village that the only light now came from the moon and the faint glow of Lyra's staff. She propped it against a tree and crouched by the water, cupping some in her hands and splashing it on her face. Hugo sat a few steps away, arms draped loosely over his knees. He said nothing, just watched.
She shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Do you mind?"
"What?"
"Staring. It's annoying."
He blinked. "Wasn't staring."
"You were breathing like a creep."
"…Sorry, I'll try to suffocate more quietly."
Hugo slumped back onto a patch of grass, pulling out his last cigarette. He stared at it for a long time before putting it against his lips.
"You don't actually like those, do you?" Lyra asked, glancing over.
He gave a tired shrug. "No. But they help. Make me feel like I'm still... me."
She gives him a nod as she sits beside him. "You're a Stray," she said simply.
He blinked. "A what?"
She finally looked at him. Her amber eyes glinted in the moonlight. "People like you. Ones who don't belong here. You came from somewhere else. Another world. That's what we call you anyways."
"So this happens often? People just... show up from other worlds?"
"Not often," she said. "But enough that it's a problem."
"Charming."
"Most of you don't last long," she added, not even looking at him.
He let out a short laugh. "You've got a real gift for making a guy feel welcome."
"I didn't ask for you to show up. You're not my problem."
"You dragged me out of a burning village."
"Tch. I just didn't want your dumb corpse slowing me down. That's all."
He smirked. "Uh huh. Totally cold and heartless. Got it."
She splashed water in his general direction without looking. "Don't get cocky."
He chuckled and shifted to sit up straight again. The warmth of the riverbank and the adrenaline crash were starting to catch up to him. His limbs felt like they weighed twice as much.
"So," he said after a pause. "What's your name?"
She didn't answer at first. Then: "...Lyra."
"Hugo," he offered. "In case you missed it during all the shouting."
"I didn't."
He smiled faintly. "You're really good at this whole 'friendly conversation' thing."
She crossed her arms, chin tilted up. "I'm not here to make friends."
"Lucky me."
Her lips twitched, just slightly, but she looked away before he could see more.
They sat in silence for a moment, the crackle of the river filling the space.
"…You're still shaking," she said quietly, not looking at him.
He looked down at his hands. He hadn't noticed.
She tossed something at him—a rough cloth. "Here. Wipe your face. You look pathetic."
He caught it and blinked. "…Thanks?"
"Don't read into it."
"I would never," he said, clearly reading into it.
She turned her back to him, arms wrapped around her knees.
"Just… try not to die, okay?" she muttered. "You're already annoying enough alive."
Hugo smiled to himself.
Maybe this world wasn't so hopeless after all.