The moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains of the bedroom, illuminating a medium-sized Bengal cat as it sat on top of a cabinet next to a bed. On this bed was a human-sized lump, completely hidden with the covers over its head. The cat locked its clear blue eyes on the center of the lump and stretching its haunches as if it were its distant cousin, the fierce tiger, ready to strike down unsuspecting prey. He launched himself through the air, landing with his paws slipping around on the cushy duvet. The cat growled in annoyance. If only he still had his sharp claws.

The lump squirmed around. The cat proceeded to paw at the lump, struggling to hold on as the duvet moved around in all different sorts of directions. After a while of futile battle with the blanket, a young boy nearing his adult days popped out of the mass of cloth, nearly trapping the cat within the covers in the process. The young man sat there for a good while until the cat jumped directly onto his head. "Goodness, Simba, calm down." He removed the cat from the top of his head and set him down on the floor. Simba just gave him an annoyed look and walked off to hop onto one of the multicolored beanbags strewn across the floor and sank in for a short nap before returning to annoy his human friend after he got dressed.

Sterling was the young man's name, and he walked his way over to the bathroom, flicking on the lights and wincing as the full brightness hit him in the face. He thought about Simba for a moment. The Bengal cat had found him in his first year at the House of Night, when all the students still thought that he was just some stuck-up little boy (which he was not, by the way). He had been returning to his dorm from another long day (or night) of classes. Ready to just collapse into his bed, the cat had attacked him from behind for some unknown reason, surprising and alerting Sterling because he had mistaken the cat for some jungle animal because of his leopard-like coat. After that encounter, the cat had taken quite a liking to him and followed Sterling around, claiming him as his human. (Though Sterling, growing up in a house with a bunch of pets, often forgot that Simba owned him.) And Simba quite liked the name that Sterling had given him. It was foreign, yet sounded very nice on the tongue, very regal and playful at the same time. Simba liked the feel of it. It was certainly a lot better than the name that his previous human had given him. Seriously. Tigger. What kind of a decent person names their fierce, slightly narcissistic feline companion after a bouncy stuffed animal?

Quickly going through his daily morning (or sunset) routine, Sterling put on the finishing touches as he messily tousled his golden locks, washed off the aftershave and sprayed himself with some cologne. Nice. He checked himself three times in the mirror before exiting and swapping his pajamas for his school outfit. It wasn't as nice as the outfit of his previous school, but it would do. Previously, Sterling Rhys Vanderbilt had attended a prestigious boys preparatory school in the Upper-East Side of Manhattan. The Browning School. He'd missed a few classes here and there, meddled in drugs for a while, but mostly he had stuck to lacrosse and gotten extraordinary grades. He had a supportive group of friends that he had grown up with since childhood. He was part of the elite. He was liked by his teachers, most of his classmates, and got all the girls he wanted. He was nearly perfect, living the life. Plenty of people hated him too, wanted to see him fall off of his throne, but they had also wanted to be him at the same time. He chuckled silently to himself, and wondered if they still wanted to be him if they knew where he was now. If. His parents had paid good money to get the media off his case. After all, those accepted into the House of Night--marked as a fledgling vampire--were generally avoided by the public at all costs.

Although it had been quite a while ago, Sterling still remembered the moment he was marked as if it had occurred only a few moments ago. He'd been at his school team's homecoming lacrosse game and his team was winning 50-34. He remembered smiling and waving up at the crowds, his vision blurred by the sweat dripping down his brow. He was standing in the dead center of the field, and then he saw it. He hadn't been sure if the figure was a woman or a man, but it was definitely there for him. Sterling had looked around at the others, and they all wore similar surprised expressions. The hooded figure had headed slowly towards him, the crowd's eyes drawn to Sterling and the hooded figure. He wasn't able to get any words out, and the figure's arm went up and it pointed at him. "You have been marked", it had said. And then, Sterling had blacked out. He woke up with a crescent moon on his forehead, in his family's parlor. Afterwards, his family had kept a bit of distance from him. His sister was the only one in his family who still treats him as she used to, and his father stopped looking at him in the eyes. It was awkward and a bit painful. After going to the House of Night, he had felt much more at ease and at home. People would accept him for what he was here.

He ended his little pondering session abruptly, poking at Simba softly. "Come on, wake up, sleepy." Ignoring his human, Simba simply wriggled a bit and settled down deeper into the squishy beanbag. A few bookcases enclosed a corner of the room, creating a cozy little reading nook. Many people who visited his room commented on how cool it was, but most of them weren't aware that that was where Sterling's former roommate had slept before his body rejected the change. He'd died in his sleep, choking as Sterling watched him, unable to do anything. The faculty had removed the bed and installed the little reading nook so that Sterling wouldn't get too upset about it. They knew he absolutely loved to read, and they were right. They did help with the pain of knowing someone he was good friends with had died. What if that happened to himself? Would his family care? Would his new friends at the House of Night care? What would happen to his body? He had always wondered about these types of things when his mind wandered off by itself. Sterling sighed. Whatever. He looked back towards Simba. The feline was not moving an inch. "Fine, suit yourself. I'm going out for some breakfast."

__________________