mmm... boiled cats

We [I have no idea who "we" refers to any more] freed this tribe of slaves and everyone was running. We tried to go separate ways but there weren’t many paths to take. One especially frisky little guy (and a servant of the enslavers) tracked us down, but there were 20 of us & 1 of him. We surrounded & captured him. We threatened him with death (as we couldn’t very well let him go at this point) but he stayed true to his convictions of turning us in. It wasn’t until we were about to cover him in hot oil and set him on fire that he decided to join us. This must have incited the people to bloodlust, but the next thing I know the tribe has a baby and are about to cook it in the hot oil. I yell to stop, and quickly yell that why not cook some kind of animal instead. They seem to go along with this, and my sisters and I head out to this grassy field nearby that’s filled to the brim with rabbits and cats. We chase them around but the rabbits are way too fast (despite the fact that a group of really young kids seem to have caught one for a pet). I finally catch up with a cat. In true wildcat fashion, the thing bites my hand and continues to try to bite me no matter how much I pet it to clam it down. We’re back at some kind of condo and my parents are waiting for us there. For some reason frying the cat has turned into some science project of Megan’s, and there’s a hinged frying pan full of hot oil on this shelf waiting for us. My only idea is to throw the cat up there and prepare for the screeching. So I toss it up, and nothing much happens. The oil must not be hot enough because I stand on my tiptoes to see what’s going on, and it’s standing in the pan, licking up the oil. I can tell its paws are starting to cook, but it doesn’t seem to notice for a few moments. After it does realize, it jumps off the pan but we quickly catch it again. And again I toss it up there. This time it lands on its side and the pan lid closes on top of the cat. At some point the head flops out, wide, lifeless eyes just staring and its mouth open. There are no sounds or smells from the cooking cat at all. I feel sick and try to leave through the condo’s back door, but my dad insists we all stay. This is, after all, Megan’s project, and we should all get plates ready. It takes me a second to realize what he means, and I’m disgusted.