Cheshire



#AICaturday

Under the full moon’s silver gaze, the forest held its breath. Among the twisted branches, a figure lounged with predatory grace — a catgirl with violet eyes that gleamed like mischievous lanterns. She wore a crooked top hat and a grin far too wide to be entirely sane.
They called her Cheshire, though she insisted she had far too many names to remember just one. Her striped tail swayed lazily, hypnotic in its rhythm, as she whispered riddles to the owls and traded secrets with the bats. To some, she was a trickster spirit; to others, a guide — though her guidance often led straight into delightful trouble.
She loved nothing more than to appear where she shouldn’t, perched just over your shoulder, her warm breath carrying words that danced between truth and lies. In this strange wood, she was both hunter and jester, and whether she meant you harm or merely amusement depended entirely on how interesting you were.
And when she finally vanished into the night, all that remained was the echo of her laughter — and the uneasy certainty that she was still watching.