The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fads to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose on the plain of RC. The wind was not the beginning. There are no beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

Onward the wind swept, down the barren lobbyistic plains, populated by masses upon masses of primitive beings. Along the dissident and varied splotches of civilization. Some proper, others disgusting. That wind continued sweeping on, until it managed to settle down within a single, hidden room, where the neko Sable waited.

Sable did a lot of that, lately. Waiting. Ever since a woman came by claiming to be a friend of hers from a previous life. She came in, enlightened the youthful neko on things she had never even dreamed possible. Things she had never before thought of. Of course, that could have been attributed to her diminutive knowledge--being as youthful as she was. Nevertheless, that woman took her, wrapped around her, became her cocoon.

And within that cocoon, something wonderful happened. The neko who had been so naive, so ignorant, became mature. Within the span of an hour, that woman had taken her, swept her up body and mind, and released her, matured into the next stage of life.

Now she was a predator. She did not remember the name of the woman who had done this to her, but she recalled it was a flower of some sort. Now, though... She was the woman's pet. She wasn't groveling or whining. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. The flower had taught her that much very quickly, and likely without even meaning to.

She knew all she had to do was give a smoldering gaze, shift her body just the right way, button her blouse up just so... And she was already half way in the hearts of whoever she wanted. Appearance was key, but first impressions could only go so far. She needed to back up her appearance, and with a sultry voice, veiled promises--though she never promised even half as much as she made them think.

And yet, despite her newness, her maturity, certain things from her youth come back to haunt her. Nightmares. A woman who masqueraded as her friend, yet was present at her last death. She dreamed of that sometimes. Laying there, feeling the last strength pour out of her. Nothing being done about it. She couldn't remember how she felt about it when it happened, but it terrified her now.

And now the nightmare was trying to approach her in the flesh. Luckily however, some of her prey was already in her grasp, so she had an excuse to flee, but what about the next time? What will become of her when she has to stay? Stay and confront the thing she does not want to confront? She wonders why someone would wish to distress her, so. She cannot come up with the answer, but it will not stop poking at her mind...

She wishes that she had her flower to cuddle to, to chase away the nightmares for good.