With heavy paws a misty, slightly translucent she-cat emerged from
a hollow, a frown etched on her face. She wore the mark of the
moon, and therefore was Moonling. Moonling yawned, a warm night
breeze sweeping through her fur. She relished it, knowing winter
would come eventually.
Moonling gazed forlornly at the sky. When the moon rose to its apex
tomorrow it'd be her Morphingday. A Morphingday is when a
Morphimal, a rare kind of animal shapeshifter.