Cara Randall has dedicated her life to helping protect and save hybrids. Her hospital and shelter, Sanctuary, helps the injured or mistreated hybrids of Samta, New Kanoa. While she has success with her job, she's lacking the one thing she wants most...
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Life as a stray was hard.
Not having a home with an owner and having to fend for myself was hard, and often very dangerous. Although, I was thankful that for the past several years, I was able to rent a room from a nice old lady. In my experience, it was rare for a human to help a hybrid like me, but she did. Because of her, I had running water and was able to use her internet, even if my bed was just a pile of blankets on the floor. The room was extremely basic and rustic – basically just a storage closet, but it was mine and it was warm. It might sound awful to people, but it was the life I'd known for the past 10 years.
I used to have a house I lived in, not one I'd call a loving home at all though. It was nothing like the lives hybrids lived when you watch those Hallmark movies – you know the ones with the loving families who treated the hybrids in their household as if they were family, or ones where the pretty woman fell in love with the gruff and sometimes unfriendly hybrid.
Instead, I had the 'Owners from Hell' – Master who saw hybrids as less than human, while Mistress only viewed us as a way to keep her sexual needs satisfied. How I survived three years in that house still makes me feel sick, especially with how I was just 16 when I went to live with them and during my very first rut, I was made to do things that I wanted to only do with my mate.
I shook my head, as if the very action could rid me of those memories. I would have normally had my tail in my hands at this point to help me calm down, but time was of the essence right now. I needed my head clear, especially if I was to win this battle. I needed the prize money; the last winnings were nearly gone.
To support myself, I became a rapper in the Samta underground rap scene. It was illegal for hybrids to participate, so I was taking my time to hide my animal features. I had my fluffy, full tail wrapped around my waist; at over a metre in length, it was hot, heavy and underneath my hoodie and coat. It made me look more muscular than I really was. My ears were carefully tucked beneath my beanie, hidden but with room so they could still move.
Like every other time I performed, I had a mask covering my face. This one was of a zombie cat that would be lit up with neon lights when I took the stage. The masks had become my signature, a way to keep my identity hidden. Scent blockers helped keep my hybrid smell from other hybrids being able to detect it. I looked and smelled like just another human.
"Yo, Suga!" I heard from the other side of the door, "you're on in five!"
Suga was the other way I helped keep myself hidden. Instead of performing under my name, I'd chosen the moniker 'Suga' because it was the complete opposite of me – I wasn't sweet in my raps, and I wasn't white like sugar.
I was a dark grey Himalayan cat hybrid.
I opened the door and made my way towards the stage. The rappers currently battling sounded okay, except one was clearly better than the other. As I reached the waiting area beside the stage, I half listened to the lines the winning one was spitting out, but nonetheless most of my attention was on what I wanted to buy for dinner once I won.
