Hugo had always been the kind of guy who slipped through the cracks of the world. Never late, never early, never noticed. If life were a stage, he was the extra no one remembered, wandering through scenes with his hands shoved in his pockets and his thoughts chewing him alive. Tonight was no different. Just another aimless walk, another cigarette he didn't even want, another evening that felt both too quiet and too heavy, like the world was waiting for something he hadn't been invited to.
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. Thanks" 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 hell—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 lungs.
The pavement rushed up, hard and unforgiving. His cigarette fell slowly from his lips as he watched the cat bounce to the ground.
The screech of tires split the night, followed by a sickening thud. The black cat's body twisted, flung across the asphalt like a rag doll. Its yellow eyes caught the light one last time before the darkness swallowed them. Hugo's breath hitched, the impact rattled through him as if he'd been the one struck.
He tried to shout, to move, but the pain in his chest locked him in place. The world rang hollow, colors draining out until only red taillights and shadows remained.
"Nope—nope nope nope!" Hugo scrambled to his feet, legs barely holding, and staggered off the road. He bolted down the nearest alley, breath ragged. Shadows swallowed him whole, the narrow walls bending closer with every step.
"…meow"
He jerked his head back. Spinning.
That soft sound catching his ear and echoing behind him, too steady to be the wind. His breath clouded in the cold air, though the night wasn't cold a moment ago. He stammered back, nearly tumbling over, heart hammering, stomach dropped. A shadow peeled away from the darkness, thin and wrong, stretching along the wall until it pulled free. The cat stepped forward, its body whole, unbroken, eyes glowing like twin embers. Not a limp. Not a scratch. Like the car had never touched it.
The cat was right there, inches from his face, tail flicking once. It blinked at him, slow, deliberate.
The fog from the night slowly engulfing the alleyway hiding the walls until it was just him and the cat. As the darkness creeped in, he swore, just before everything went black, it smiled.
He turned to run. He couldn't see anything but he knew he had to get away from there.
But the street behind him was gone. The flickering streetlight buzz shifted into the low crackle of torches. The brick walls stretched upward, twisting like ribs in the dark. His lungs seized. "No, no, no, not real, not real…"
Then, through the fog, he caught the cat's yellow eyes, calm, unblinking, almost... knowing.
Hugo sprinted, breath ragged, cigarette bouncing between his lips. Stumbling forward he clawed at air—
And slammed into someone.
"Ow—hey!" a sharp voice snapped. He reeled back, cigarette dropping from his lips to the ground, blinking at a red-haired woman standing steady where he'd crashed. Cloak dusty, staff in hand, eyes narrowed.
Hugo froze, heart still pounding. "Wait. You're... you're real… right?" he stammered.
Her brow furrowed. "…Of course I'm real. What kind of question is that?"
His laugh cracked in his throat, shaky. "Oh, you know. Just making sure I didn't… run into a hallucination."
She studied him like he was a stray dog. "…You're not from here, are you?"
He swallowed, glancing over her shoulder. The alley was gone. Only a dirt path stretched back into a town. The cat's eyes had vanished.
"…Yeah," he whispered.
Somewhere down the alley, wood creaked. A shutter slammed closed, though no one was there. The silence of the town pressed in tight, broken only by the faint hiss of his cigarette.
The girl's gaze swept the rooftops, her staff angled slightly forward. For just a second, Hugo thought she was tense, but then she masked it with a scoff.
"Stay on your feet, Stray," she muttered. "This place isn't safe."
Hugo blinked, still dazed. His eyes caught a pair of yellow glints at the mouth of the alley. They hovered, patient. Waiting.
He rubbed his eyes hard, and when he looked again, there was nothing but shadow.
Panic prickled along his spine. He fumbled through his pockets, hunting for a cigarette to easy his nerves. He found his box and grabbed one of only two left. He fumbled with the lighter, sparks sputtering. "Ugh. 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 calmed down.
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 the hell am I?" He thought in between puffs.
He dusted himself off. Standing up, fully awake now, as his brain tried to process the scene.
"I died maybe?" he whispered to himself. "This is... what, Heaven? Hell? …that cat was definitely a demon so this has got to be Hell."
"Neither," the voice said again.
She wore a travel cloak streaked with dirt, a walking staff tucked under one arm. Her red hair caught the light, tied back loosely. Her eyes were steady, watchful, like someone used to dragging people out of trouble.
"What the hell was that for?" she said. "
Hugo stared at her, then at the cigarette trembling in his fingers.
Hugo blinked at her reddish hair glinting inches from him, then at the sky as the smoke from his cigarette filled it. He took another drag.
"Sorry. Just... kinda tripped. These roads are so uneven, gotta love the whole rustic vibe. It really sells itself."
The woman's mouth tightened, but she didn't argue. Hugo's legs felt wrong, like he'd borrowed someone else's body for the night.
The town stretched around them. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed on his ears, that made him hear things he wasn't sure were there.
Then, in the drifting curl of his cigarette smoke, Hugo saw them, two yellow eyes, hovering in the dark alley between towering houses. Watching.
He rubbed his eye but they stayed.
His stomach dropped. The hairs on his arms prickled. "Nope," he whispered. "No, no, no..."
"What is it?" the woman asked.
"A cat," Hugo stammered, pointing toward the shadows. "It's right there—you see it, don't you? Black, with eyes like... like fire—"
She followed his gesture. Nothing. Just an empty alleyway. Smoke drifting.
Her brow furrowed. "There's nothing there. You're seeing things."
"It's smiling at me," Hugo whispered, cigarette slipping from his lips. He stumbled backward, knees nearly giving. "Don't tell me you don't see it. Look. LOOK!"
The woman grabbed his face suddenly, both palms steadying him, forcing his eyes to hers. "Hey. Focus. Breathe. There's nothing there."
Her voice cut through the spinning panic. The forest dulled around him, the phantom eyes vanishing into the smoke.
The cat was gone.
Only houses. Only shadows.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Hugo blinked hard, his breath ragged. "I... I know what I saw," he said, quieter now, as if trying to convince himself.
"Sure you did." Her tone was sharp but not cruel. She let go of his face and brushed dirt from her gloves. "Either way, staying here won't help."
She started walked, heading out of the alleyway.
He said nothing. Just bent down, picked up his cigarette, and stuck it back between his lips with shaking hands.
"Come on," she said like she was talking to a dog. "There's water nearby. We'll rest there."
Hugo followed slowly, still glancing back over his shoulder. The town held only silence now. The cat was gone.
Maybe it had never been there.
As they left the alleyway Hugo swore he heard a soft "meow…"
They moved slowly through the forest, the town's light fading behind them.
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."
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They settled by the edge of the river, far enough from the village that the only light now came from the moon. She 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 the 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.