"Yasmine Galenorn - Sisters of the Moon 02 - Changeling" - читать интересную книгу автора (Galenorn Yasmine)

bitterly cold, and my breath formed little puffs of air as it spiraled out of my mouth.

I was freezing, but it was better than staying inside where Maggie could get hold of me and
slobber her kisses all over my fur, or where Iris could trap me into that stupid cat bag and forcibly
clip my claws. Her manicures always left me with stubby nails the next day. And nobody but nobody
was going to ruin the French manicure that I'd just paid fifty bucks for down at the local salon.

As I rounded the gazebo near the path leading to Birchwater Pond, a movement from within the
trees alerted me, and I paused midstep, listening. The noise repeated itself: a ruffling of leaves, the
snapping of brittle twigs on the forest floor. Oh great Bast… please don't let it be Speedo, the
neighbor's dog. That little pisser was the most tenacious basset hound I'd ever met. The only
basset hound I'd ever met, to be honest. He delighted in chasing me whenever I showed up on all
fours, baying like a drunken troglodyte. While I could easily outrun the mutt, I didn't trust him. Of
course, to be fair, he wasn't a Were, just a regular old dog. Probably a good thing, now that I
thought about it, considering that he was shy a few bolts in the bucket, but still… I glanced around,
looking for the nearest tall tree. It never hurt to be prepared.

When Speedo didn't break through the undergrowth but the noises continued, I reconsidered.
Possum, maybe. Or skunk. Skunk would be bad, but this time I'd fight my instincts and leave it
alone. Skunk me once, shame on the skunk. Skunk me twice, and I'd be the butt of my sisters'
jokes for weeks.

As I searched my gut, something told me that my stalker wasn't an animal. At least not your
everyday furble running through the woods. I might not be a witch like my sister Camille, but I had
my own set of instincts, and they were whispering loud and clear that somebody was out there. I
raised my head and sniffed, inhaling deeply. There. The faint scent of big cat, but behind that,
something stronger. And then I knew what it was that I sensed: cat magic.

Cautiously, I made my way to the gazebo and loped up the stairs. I didn't want to be caught in the
grass unarmed. There wasn't much I could do in this state if a demon happened to pop out of the
woods to attack me. Turn into a ball of fur and razor blades, maybe, but considering my size,
fighting back promised a quick and painful end to my existence. Once I was in the gazebo, I'd be
able to scramble up on the railing, which would give me a better vantage point from which to
observe.

I lowered myself into a pouncing position and wiggled my butt, preparing for the pounce and leap,
but as I sailed into the air toward the third step, my big old fluffy tail decided to play tease and
tickle with a patch of spiny cockleburs that were growing near the edge of the gazebo. Oh shit! I
thought as I went thudding to the ground, belly first, feet splayed out like some cartoon cat from
Tweety and Sylvester.

I blinked as my dignity took a direct hit. As I shook my head and pushed myself to all four feet, I
found—much to my dismay—that the tufts of my tail fur were knotted up in the prickly plants. I let
out a little growl of frustration. Why did I have to have such long fur? Granted, I was the prettiest
golden tabby around, but sometimes looks were overrated. I tugged, trying to free myself, but no
luck. The fur was stuck and not coming loose.

An insect that hadn't bitten the dust during the cold snap buzzed around my head, and I twitched
my ears, resisting the urge to bat at it. Nope, leave it alone, I thought. I've got bigger concerns than a
flutterbug. Like getting loose from this fucking plant. When I was in cat form, it was always harder to