Most of the time, she was content. Her world had boundaries, but they kept dangers out as much as they kept her in, and she always had plenty to eat and drink, places to run and climb, and a soft, sweet-smelling bed to sleep in.
But she would dream. Dream of another world and another life. In the dreams, she wasn't content at all. In the dreams, she wanted, all the time. It didn't matter what -- love, acknowledgement, pleasure -- in the dreams she was always wanting something.
The other thing about the dreams was that in them, she had Power.
She could feel it flowing through her, shouting at her to use it, and in the dreams she did.
The images -- the memories? -- were so real, so vivid, that even after she awoke she could sometimes still feel the Power -- a muted, barely there tingle that went clear through her, from tip of her nose to tip of her tail.
When that happened, she would run, frantically and unceasingly, until the whispers quieted and the memories faded back into nothing more than strange dreams.
Sometimes, though, it wasn't as easy as that to get rid of them.
Sometimes the feelings and memories lingered despite her best effort to run them out, and when that happened her world with its clearly defined boundaries no longer felt so safe and secure.
Instead it felt like a cage.
It was during these times, when she felt the most restless and trapped, the most alien, that she would start to take notice of what went on beyond the walls of her world.
There were people out there, people of the same sort as she herself was in her dreams. People that she felt connected to, in ways that she couldn't explain fully, even in her own thoughts.
One in particular always seemed to be there; one in particular she always seemed to be drawn to.
She knew that that one was called Willow, just as she knew she herself was called Amy. The words held no meaning to her though, they were just meaningless sounds, or at least sounds whose meaning eluded her.
It didn't matter whether she understood those sounds, or all the other sounds that seemed to cluster around them. They weren't important. What was important was that Willow practically glowed with the same Power that tingled along her own fur.
It called to her, drew her in and held her captive, singing a siren song that she couldn't resist, that coalesced her dreams, making them seem more than just random ghosts haunting her mind.
She could sit and watch Willow for hours, especially when Willow was actively using the Power. At those times, the Power did more than just call to her; it shone down upon her, warming her like the summer sun. When that happened, all she could do was sit there and bask in its heat, ears and tail twitching in ecstacy.
There was another who was often there with Willow. This other was called Tara, though this was just more meaningless sounds. Tara glowed with Power as well, though nowhere near as brightly as Willow did.
But when they came together, when they used the Power in unison, they were both greater than what they were when they were apart. The glow that came from them at those times was so bright it should have been blinding.
But it wasn't.
No matter how bright it got, how much Power flowed from and around them, it never overwhelmed Amy, never became too much. She didn't think it was possible for it ever to be too much; was it possible for one to have too much bliss?
In some ways, it was like how it was in those strange dreams of hers -- there was no such thing as enough Power to bask in, no such thing as being sated, being full. The want for more was always there.
But it was also different from the dreams. In them, the want was like an ache in the soul, an empty place that could never be completely filled. This, though, was different. The want was still there, the empty place was still there, but each little bit of Power that flowed over her brought with it the feeling that some day, somehow, it was going to finally be enough to fill that empty place. She just needed more.
The Power didn't seem to call to Tara, in the same way as it did to her. Tara didn't seem to need its warmth, didn't seem to crave the feel of it rippling over her body. Tara had the Power but didn't use it; not very often and never anywhere near enough. Amy couldn't understand how Tara could resist; could understand even less why Tara would want to.
Willow, though, seemed to feel the same way about the Power as Amy did. Willow wasn't afraid of it, or reluctant to use it. Willow understood that the Power was a good thing, only holding back because of Tara's disapproval.
But then Tara was gone, and it was just Willow and Amy, and the Power that called to both of them. Finally, Willow was free to use the Power however she wanted, and Amy could feel the difference.
Especially when Willow directed that Power directly at her.
If before it had been like warm sunlight that she basked in, this was like being caught up in the middle of a firestorm. The Power was as intense as a sun as it poured into that empty place within her, filling it to overflowing. It seared her flesh and melted her bones, until her entire body flowed like wax. There came one perfect, glorious second where she was the Power itself and in want of nothing.
Then suddenly, it was gone, and she found herself sitting on the bed in human form, the want again huge within her.
Perfection lost, Amy screamed.