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The streets are quiet except for the occasional car passing by. The only light is from street lamps and the full moon above.
The stray is caked in mud and dried blood, not all hers. The heat running through her is an unpleasant distraction. Each step hurts but if she stops to rest now, the pack of stray catboys might catch up to her. So she keeps walking until she reaches her destination.
It had been a long time since the stray was in a human house, not since she was a kitten. She pushes the memories, both sweet and painful, away for now. She's seen the person that lives in this house a few times before, the woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile who often leaves food out for the strays.
Her strength fades when she reaches the doorstep. Her knees buckle and she curls against the door. She manages to reach up and push the buzzer. Hopefully, the woman will help. There aren't any other options.
Exhaustion pulls at her. She'll just rest her eyes for a bit.
The stray wakes up on a couch, wrapped in a blanket. Her non-mangled ear perks up at the sound of a bathtub being filled. She sits up slowly, wincing at the sparks of pain. She takes a moment to take in her surroundings.
She must be in the living room. Most surfaces are occupied by various knick-knacks and half-finished projects. Balls of yarn are scattered about. The woman has a liking for crochet and knitting, it seems. The only pictures on the walls are of cats.
"I'm glad you're awake."
The stray flinches at the voice. It's careless to let her guard down to the pooint a human could sneak up on her.
"I didn't mean to startle you," the woman says in apology. She fidgets a little, fingers playing with the golden bracelets around her wrists. "My name is Diana."
The woman is beautiful. Her tightly coiled hair forms a dark halo around head. Round spectacles rest on a broad nose. She wears a gray sweater and sweatpants.
"Can you tell me your name?" Diana asks.
The stray doesn't answer. No one's called her anything since...
"I prepared a bath for you."
A bath does sound nice. She hasn't had one in a while. Might has well take advantage of the luxury while it's offered.
The water is pleasantly warm. It stings her pride a little that she needs help washing but she can't deny how good it feels for another pair of hands to touch her so. Diana works steadily, wiping the blood and dirt away with a washcloth, revealing the soft white fur underneath. If she's disturbed by the stray's mangled left hand and scars, she doesn't show it.
The stray can't suppress a shiver when Diana's hand brushes against her thigh. The human notices.
"You're in heat, aren't you?" The question is asked gently. The stray nods. "Do you want me to help?"
The stray hesitates, caught between wariness, hope, and desire. After a moment she nods.
Diana's hand slips between her thighs and massages gently at her already-wet entrance. Two fingers slowly push in. The stray lets out a moan. She's unused to the gentleness. She rocks against her, chasing the pleasure.
"You're doing so well, kitten. Such a beautiful girl you are."
Diana keeps talking, whispering praise and sweet names. That's all it takes to go over the edge. The woman holds her as she shivers through it.
A memory pulls at her, of her original owners. When she was loved and wanted, before the accident. She had a name then.
"My name is Lacey," she says into the quiet.
"Lacey," Diana repeats. The catgirl finds that she likes how the human says the name. "You can stay as long as you like, Lacey."