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Description
If there was one creature to ever live in the Land of Lights that loved color, it was the shiftcoat. Their love of color was really the only explicable thing about them; no one could figure out where they had come from, why they were so rare, or how their gray pelts shifted colors every so often, cycling through every hue that the imagination was capable of producing. But out of all the extant shiftcoats, the one that perhaps loved color the most was Lucerne, the young female that sat in the Valley of the Lion wailing a broken lament to the sky.

Lucerne was a pretty emotional little cat. She feared and fretted, worried or wept, grinned and gamboled, at the slightest provocation. But on that fateful day in the Valley of the Lion, her howl of anguish was not so misplaced. What her butterfly friend did not know was that the 'dream' she had mentioned was no dream; it was all too real. The instant Lucerne had taken her eyes off of Matthew she had seen the color drained from the world around her realized that it was so.

Hence, the howling.

The butterfly fluttered about frantically, but Lucerne paid him no heed. She seemed to crumble; her head bowed and her tail flopped into the grass. Her tall ears went flat against her skull and she began to shake. All around her the butterfly flitted, now truly scared. What was wrong with her? Was she hurt? Ill?

Lucerne looked down at her paws, unable to believe it. They were as gray as the rest of her pelt. The grass was gray and the trees were gray and the flowers, the beautiful flowers flowers… It was all gray. All of it.

"It's gone," Lucerne's voice was hoarse. She looked up at the butterfly, sorrow written on her face. "Matthew, it's all gone and I don't know -"

Suddenly her voice stopped. She looked at her butterfly friend quizzically. "I can still see you," she whispered, feeling a slight flare of joy amid her loss. "But everything else is gray. The color is gone."

She bowed her head; a second later Matthew's tiny wings brushed the short hairs on her head. No doubt he was trying to comfort her, but it wasn't doing much good. Lucerne would much rather have his colorful wings within sight, but she didn't have the heart to ask him to move. For a long while she just sat there with her eyes closed, her body feeling heavy with grief.

"How did this happen?" she whispered. She remembered walking down her usual path with an intricately tangled stick that she had wanted to add to her collection of oddities when… When what? There was a curious gap in her memory. A paw flying at her face, a pain in her head, empty eyes and a twisted smile… The memories came rushing back. Lucerne's body jolted from the force of her surprise.

"That mad jaguar!"

It was all suddenly clear. She had seen an unfamiliar jaguar on the path. It was not rare to see a jaguar in the valley, but this jaguar had been all wrong. Its pelt had been spotted with black, but in the backdrop it had been a lusterless tan rather than resplendent gold. Its eyes had been empty and white; it had had a permanent cold grin, and round its neck had been a collar with a bell that did not ring. The jaguar had looked right at her necklace, asking how much it meant to her. The next thing Lucerne had known he had been at her throat, trying to snag it with his claws. Matthew had flown at his eye, confusing him with the flapping of his orange-spangled wings; in that second of opportunity, Lucerne had lunged, her paws flailing, smacking the offender across his other eye in an attempt to disorient him with her hallucinations. Matthew had flown away, leaving the thief with his head and shoulders bowed as he attempted to recover. But instead of going into a fuzzy, disoriented, state, the jaguar seemed unfazed. He had looked right up at Lucerne, still grinning horribly. A surge of unspeakable cold terror had rushed through the young shiftcoat, and in that instant she had felt as helpless as the prey she hunted.

"So that's what means the most to you."

And then he had lunged, pinning Lucerne to the ground, that wicked smile still fixed on his cruel face. There was his paws over her eyes, a flash of color more beautiful and bright than anything she had ever seen…

And then all had been gray and silent.

A nearly imperceptible gust of wind ruffled Lucerne's head. She looked up to see Matthew flying out from between her ears and onto... Something? It was hard to focus; the sight of his wings, bright red and splashed with icy blue, was distracting in the extreme. Close examination finally revealed the object to be a folded-up piece of paper, on which was written in a neat hand:

"Can you take back what is yours?"

So the jaguar had left it! Furious now, Lucerne nudged Matthew onto the adjacent grass and ripped the paper open, revealing a faded, dingy map of the Land of Lights. A small dot marked Lucerne's current position, and a meandering line led out of the Valley of the Lion, through a small portion of the Cliffs of the Eagle, crossed the River of the Raging Bear, and into the menacing Swamp of the Raven. Lucerne swallowed nervously; she had never been into the Swamp. It was murky, it was gloomy, and frankly it smelled weird. But if that was what it took to get her colors back, then so be it.

"Okay, then, little brother," said Lucerne. Pain and fear, as raw as a fresh-caught fish, underlaid her cold tone. "Looks like we're going into the Swamp."

With that, she scooped the map up in her jaws and began to walk.

Description
If there was one creature to ever live in the Land of Lights that loved color, it was the shiftcoat. Their love of color was really the only explicable thing about them; no one could figure out where they had come from, why they were so rare, or how their gray pelts shifted colors every so often, cycling through every hue that the imagination was capable of producing. But out of all the extant shiftcoats, the one that perhaps loved color the most was Lucerne, the young female that sat in the Valley of the Lion wailing a broken lament to the sky.

Lucerne was a pretty emotional little cat. She feared and fretted, worried or wept, grinned and gamboled, at the slightest provocation. But on that fateful day in the Valley of the Lion, her howl of anguish was not so misplaced. What her butterfly friend did not know was that the 'dream' she had mentioned was no dream; it was all too real. The instant Lucerne had taken her eyes off of Matthew she had seen the color drained from the world around her realized that it was so.

Hence, the howling.

The butterfly fluttered about frantically, but Lucerne paid him no heed. She seemed to crumble; her head bowed and her tail flopped into the grass. Her tall ears went flat against her skull and she began to shake. All around her the butterfly flitted, now truly scared. What was wrong with her? Was she hurt? Ill?

Lucerne looked down at her paws, unable to believe it. They were as gray as the rest of her pelt. The grass was gray and the trees were gray and the flowers, the beautiful flowers flowers… It was all gray. All of it.

"It's gone," Lucerne's voice was hoarse. She looked up at the butterfly, sorrow written on her face. "Matthew, it's all gone and I don't know -"

Suddenly her voice stopped. She looked at her butterfly friend quizzically. "I can still see you," she whispered, feeling a slight flare of joy amid her loss. "But everything else is gray. The color is gone."

She bowed her head; a second later Matthew's tiny wings brushed the short hairs on her head. No doubt he was trying to comfort her, but it wasn't doing much good. Lucerne would much rather have his colorful wings within sight, but she didn't have the heart to ask him to move. For a long while she just sat there with her eyes closed, her body feeling heavy with grief.

"How did this happen?" she whispered. She remembered walking down her usual path with an intricately tangled stick that she had wanted to add to her collection of oddities when… When what? There was a curious gap in her memory. A paw flying at her face, a pain in her head, empty eyes and a twisted smile… The memories came rushing back. Lucerne's body jolted from the force of her surprise.

"That mad jaguar!"

It was all suddenly clear. She had seen an unfamiliar jaguar on the path. It was not rare to see a jaguar in the valley, but this jaguar had been all wrong. Its pelt had been spotted with black, but in the backdrop it had been a lusterless tan rather than resplendent gold. Its eyes had been empty and white; it had had a permanent cold grin, and round its neck had been a collar with a bell that did not ring. The jaguar had looked right at her necklace, asking how much it meant to her. The next thing Lucerne had known he had been at her throat, trying to snag it with his claws. Matthew had flown at his eye, confusing him with the flapping of his orange-spangled wings; in that second of opportunity, Lucerne had lunged, her paws flailing, smacking the offender across his other eye in an attempt to disorient him with her hallucinations. Matthew had flown away, leaving the thief with his head and shoulders bowed as he attempted to recover. But instead of going into a fuzzy, disoriented, state, the jaguar seemed unfazed. He had looked right up at Lucerne, still grinning horribly. A surge of unspeakable cold terror had rushed through the young shiftcoat, and in that instant she had felt as helpless as the prey she hunted.

"So that's what means the most to you."

And then he had lunged, pinning Lucerne to the ground, that wicked smile still fixed on his cruel face. There was his paws over her eyes, a flash of color more beautiful and bright than anything she had ever seen…

And then all had been gray and silent.

A nearly imperceptible gust of wind ruffled Lucerne's head. She looked up to see Matthew flying out from between her ears and onto... Something? It was hard to focus; the sight of his wings, bright red and splashed with icy blue, was distracting in the extreme. Close examination finally revealed the object to be a folded-up piece of paper, on which was written in a neat hand:

"Can you take back what is yours?"

So the jaguar had left it! Furious now, Lucerne nudged Matthew onto the adjacent grass and ripped the paper open, revealing a faded, dingy map of the Land of Lights. A small dot marked Lucerne's current position, and a meandering line led out of the Valley of the Lion, through a small portion of the Cliffs of the Eagle, crossed the River of the Raging Bear, and into the menacing Swamp of the Raven. Lucerne swallowed nervously; she had never been into the Swamp. It was murky, it was gloomy, and frankly it smelled weird. But if that was what it took to get her colors back, then so be it.

"Okay, then, little brother," said Lucerne. Pain and fear, as raw as a fresh-caught fish, underlaid her cold tone. "Looks like we're going into the Swamp."

With that, she scooped the map up in her jaws and began to walk.