"Cat, have you met that person?" One of them asked the shadow across from him, while bringing a piece of stewed meat to his mouth.
"Yes." Cat had a pair of claw daggers by his feet, vigilant as he frequently turned his head to scan the surroundings, guarding against twisted creatures emerging from the darkness to launch a sneak attack on them.
"How did it go?" The previous person asked again after a while.
Cat turned his head, seemingly staring at him: "Dog, haven't you always been skeptical of prophecies? Why the sudden interest today?"
By Dog's feet leaned a large bone club, its origin unknown, with a grayish sheen and a surface full of dents—clear evidence of many battles fought.
He stroked the bone club: "It's said that feline races are naturally curious. Spending so much time with you, it's inevitable that curiosity rubs off on me, so I'm asking. Also, my name's Ken, not Dog; call me Dog again and I'll smash your fish-filling brain!"
