The cat thrashed and yowled as the rings drew something invisible, but bursting with being, from his center. The moon clamped her hands over her ears, but she didn’t miss the wink the cat gave her while he pitched a fit over losing his lives.
The magic in the clearing burned hot and bright, yet to the moon, it felt like something else altogether. Cold and ancient and riddled with holes.
The cat caught her eye again before he twisted in on himself and disappeared completely.
“Good riddance,” said the first when she noticed he’d gone.
“Now, silly child,” the second one brandished the shears, “all I need is three hairs from your pretty little head and you may go free.”
“My-my hair?” Out of all that had happened over the last few hours, it seemed odd that they would ask for something as normal and mundane as three strands of hair.