Kathy Gibson the werecat had been spending the past few hours having a night on the town. Werecats tended to be most active at night. They were also a fairly adventurous breed, albeit one with much more prudence and caution than the freewheeling werefoxes. As such, Kathy had spent her early night hitting the clubs and bars of Wichita (the ones in safe neighborhoods, mind you), enjoying a few exhilarating hours of dancing, drinking, and casual flirting. Sure, Wichita wasn't exactly Las Vegas, New Orleans, Los Angeles, NYC, Orlando, or Miami, but it had more to do than most people tended to assume.
Wichita's Old Town seemed especially eventful tonight. Kathy was pretty sure she'd seen the police chasing a naked black girl with bright red hair past a barbecue joint. Kathy'd wondered at first if she was just drunk and seeing things, but she reminded herself that she'd encountered much weirder scenarios while clubbing. Hallucination or not, the bizarre sight was a handy reminder to Kathy that it was probably time to head back to her motel room and unwind.
As she fumbled for her room key, Kathy noticed four women checking in to a nearby room. They all had Middle Eastern features, and the carried the unmistakable scent of werehyenas. Kathy shook her head and smiled. It seemed to be Lady Moon's will that she be surrounded by werehyenas.
One of the women sniffed the air. "Smell that, Basma?" she asked one of her friends.
Basma sniffed the air as well. "Werecat."
"It's coming from her," one woman who appeared to be their leader said as she gestured at Kathy.
Kathy decided to trust them. She smiled and waved. "Guilty as charged! That's not a problem, right?"
The leader approached Kathy. She extended her hand. "Of course not. I'm Isra al-Dabu. That's my mate Basma, my sister Najma, and her mate Qamar."
Kathy shook Isra's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Isra. I'm Kathleen Gibson, but all my friends call me Kathy. As you noticed, I'm a werecat. I've been living with a local Wichita pride, but I managed to get myself exiled after rubbing up against the high-ranking pride members. I'm about to start looking for a new pride, one where I gel with the leadership."
"I know how it feels to be a refugee," said Isra. "We're from Saudi Arabia, and the rest of our pack was killed by state-sponsored monster hunters."
Kathy winced. "Sucks. I'm glad the White House isn't THAT trigger-happy. Hey, you should meet my friends Kibibi and Asanti! They're werehyenas like you, and they're on their way to join this new pack in a town called Stokerville in Washington. Maybe you could go with them."
Isra smiled. "We were actually on our way to join that pack. It's led by someone called Selena, right? I actually think it was Kibibi's mother who referred us to her."
"Perfect!" said Kathy. "We can all go together. Come on, I'll introduce you to Kibibi and Asanti. By the way, do you guys know anything about a naked black kid with thick red hair?"
Najma looked at Kathy like she'd grown a third head. "Excuse me, WHAT??"
"You know what?" Kathy sighed. "Forget about it. It's obviously the margaritas talking."
The werecat rapped on the door of Kibibi and Asanti's room. "Hey, Kibibi, Asanti! It's me, Kathy!"
A very sleepy-looking Kibibi answered the door. She was wearing nothing but a pair of dark green boxers. "What the fuck is going on?! I've only been asleep for a Moon-damned half hour!"
"It seems your sire sent some new friends your way," said Kathy. "Meet the al-Nabu family: Isra, Basma, Najma, and Qamar. They're from Saudi Arabia, and... well, I'll let them tell it."
Kibibi invited everyone in, and the two parties spent the next hour swapping stories. "...and then we got back in our jeep and drove off in the direction of Stokerville, and here we are. Think we can travel together? We will be packmates, after all."
"Sure thing," Kibibi said. "It's good to know at least some of our packmates will come from a culture who a legitimate werehyena tradition. Maybe we can keep Selena under control if we all stand up to her as a group."
Isra held up a cautioning hand. "Hold on there. I never get involved in alpha politics. If you become the alpha, I'll follow you. I'm NOT helping you stage a coup, though."
"No worries," Kibibi laughed heartily. "I promised Sire I wouldn't overthrow Selena... for a year. As I'm concerned, I'm auditioning Selena Lyall as alpha. Once that year's over... all the fucking bets are off."
"Did you REALLY rip that Enzi girl's balls off?!" Qamar gasped.
"I'm... not proud of that," Kibibi said, somehow managing to blush in spite of her dark skin. "It's just... I get drunk on battle sometimes. The adrenaline gets into my system and does the thinking for me. I hope there's a way to undo what I did to Enzi."
Asanti placed a reassuring hand on Kibibi's left tit. "I'm sure there is. Shaman Kweli's wise; shi'll think of something."
"Well, we'd better head back to our room and get some sleep," said Isra. "Glad to meet you two. You too, Kathy." The four al-Dabu girls waved goodbye, got up, and returned to their room.
Meanwhile, Asha scampered over the tailgate of Kibibi's truck and crouched in the cargo bed. She nervously glanced over her shoulder. Good, she'd finally shaken off those awful cops! She wasn't sure if they were after her for indecent exposure or stealing food, but it honestly didn't matter so long as they couldn't catch her. Asha gave herself a congratulatory hug. She'd outsmarted everyone! Her mom, Alpha Zuri, Kibibi, and the human police: none of them were anywhere near as clever as Asha Kombe! Asha thought to herself that she should have set off wandering a long time ago; she couldn't remember having this much fun before. The little coffee-skinned redhead settled herself into her crate for some well-deserved sleep, her belly full of stolen spare ribs. The young stowaway sank into a contented sleep full of dreams of the Pacific Northwest.