The soft morning light seeped through the curtains. Valen stirred awake, still slumped in his chair. Every movement protested as he rose, muscles aching from the previous night's struggle. His gaze drifted to Mona, asleep nearby. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He wouldn't disturb her yet. Answers waited elsewhere.
After fastening his cloak, he stepped into the cool air. Distant chatter from the market and the clop of hooves echoed as the city woke around him. Valen moved through the calm streets, boots echoing softly. His destination was clear: the guild tavern. There, he'd find whispers about the bounty... and those who dared hunt her.
The tavern door groaned open, warmth and laughter spilling out alongside roasting meat aromas. Valen's gaze landed on a burly dwarf behind the counter. Red beard braided with silver rings and a smug smile playing on his lips. He slid a frothy mug toward Valen, accent thick as the ale. "Aye," he rumbled pleasantly, "ye look like the north facing end of a south-bound mule."
Valen chuckled. "Better than bein' a smelly rock-humper."
Silence crashed over the tavern. The dwarf's smile vanished, eyes narrowing to slits. His hand froze above the mug, air thickening like tar. Patrons held their breath.
Then Valen snorted.
The dwarf's guffaw erupted, shaking dust from the rafters. He slammed a meaty palm on the counter, silver rings chiming. "Ye earned that drink!" His gaze sharpened, curiosity cutting through the mirth. "Now. Why drag yer bones here at dawn, Valen?"
Valen slid onto the stool, gaze locked with the dwarf's. "Been a while, Grom." He pulled crumpled parchment from his pocket, laying it flat on the sticky counter. A deliberate tap. "This. Heard whispers of a bounty... for a 'fine-mineral feline'."
Grom's expression hardened as he took the parchment, thick fingers smoothing creases. His eyes scanned the page, brow furrowing at the description, and the absurd sum for a golden-haired catfolk. He met Valen's gaze. "Aye, whispers reached me," he said, accent thick as honey. "But I dinna ken who posted it. That kinda gold? Smells of deep pockets."
Valen nodded. Grom was reliable, but the vagueness gnawed at him. He pulled a small pouch, coins jingling, and tossed it across the counter. 'Helpful enough, friend.' His eyes swept the tavern. No obvious eavesdroppers. "Keep those tiny ears to the ground. Well, more than usual." A smirk flickered. "Catch any wind, you know where I am."
Grom's eyes tracked the pouch before meeting Valen's. He chuckled, low and gruff. "Aye, I'll do it." Pocketing the coin. "But dinna expect miracles from an old stone-muncher like meself." His smile turned sly. "And remember, Longlegs—" A wink. "—you owe me rounds for every secret I keep."
Valen chuckled at Grom's tease. "You always drive a hard bargain. I'll bring you a nice geode soon." Pushing up from the stool. Outside, the door thudded shut. Chill nipped as he pulled his cloak tight. More questions than answers, but he was on track. Thoughts flew to Mona. A tinge of guilt pricked him for leaving her alone. He'd visit the Crescent Moon later. No trouble to Fio's doorstep.
***
Valen found Mona awake, eyes wide and curious. Her tail twitched, last night's fear still fresh. "You're up early," he said, smile gentle as he neared. A pat to her head; fur soft and warm. "Sleep alright?"
Mona looked up, eyes still shadowed by last night's fear. She swallowed, tail curling tight. "I... didn't sleep much," she admitted, voice small. "Kept thinkin' 'bout those men." Then she sprang from the bed. "B-But I was a good House Guardian! Didn't let anyone in!" Head tilted, seeking approval. "Did I do good?" Her ears twitched, waiting.
Valen's smile softened at her earnestness. He gave her head a firm pat. "You did great, Mona. Truly." His voice was a steady anchor. "Thanks for holding down the fort." A pause, eyes searching hers. "I know it's been rough, but you're tougher than steel." He straightened, grin turning playful. We need out. Catch our breath. "So, a reward. How about we skip town for a bit? A visit to Grinter, maybe?" Just a fun trip. Nothing more.
Mona's eyes lit up. "Really?" Her tail blurred with excitement. But then she faltered, fingers twisting in Valen's sleeve. "Before we go... can you teach me magic? Saw what you did last night." Her whisper trembled with awe. "I wanna fight too. Claws only scratch." Her gaze pinned him on the spot.
Valen's smile vanished. He studied the floor, shoulders sagging. "Mona," he began, tone grave, "this magic… it isn't something you can simply learn." His gaze lifted, raw sorrow etching lines around his eyes. "No incantation. No channeling energy. No tomes." He held her stare, pleading. "It lives in my blood. Using it is self-destruction." His palm cupped her head, thumb brushing her temple. "I won't let you pay that price."
Mona gaped at Valen. "But Valen," she insisted, voice thin yet steady, "I don't want you hurt! If I can help, I'll learn!" She stepped closer, tail lashing. "You've done everything for me. Lemme do this for you." Her paw settled on his arm. "Please. Just one little thing?"
Valen sighed, his gaze softening. For a heartbeat, he took in her lithe form. So much like the beastfolk he'd known. Idiot. Why didn't I think of that? "Alright," he murmured, a spark igniting in his eyes. He crossed to the room's corner, knelt before an ancient chest, and heaved it open. Hinges screamed. Dust caked the air.
His fingers brushed aside cloth and scrolls, settling on a bow nestled beneath. He lifted it, the wood worn smooth, curves honed by mastery. Turning, he offered it to Mona, smile tentative. "Archery?" The quiver's leather creaked as he adjusted his grip. "Your reflexes, your eyes… you're perfect for it. It's both subtle and practical."
Mona's eyes widened with excitement, but she took a step back, her tail drooping slightly. "But, Valen," she whispered, "I've never used anything like that before. What if I'm bad at it?"
Valen chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Don't worry, Mona. You can't possibly be worse than my first shot." He held up the bow. "String slapped my cheek, and the arrow took a detour to my toe. Stung for days." His grin was self-deprecating. "But I'll be right beside you." He offered her the bow. "Let's start with the basics."
Valen led Mona into the overgrown garden. In a few moments, he had a makeshift target: a burlap sack stuffed with hay, propped against the wall. He turned to her. "Hold the bow like this," he said, placing it in her trembling hands, curling her fingers around the grip. "Now the arrow." He slid one from the quiver into her other palm. "Nock it, feathers facing away." His hands guided hers, steady.
Mona studied Valen's movements, following his instructions. Her tail swished as she took a deep breath, eyes locked on the target. With his gentle nudge, she released the arrow. It went wide, but she didn't care. The tension snapping free, watching it fly… Power surged through her. She looked up at him, yellow eyes sparkling. "I did it!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her pads.
Valen grinned. "Good job!" Pride warmed his tone. "And nobody got hurt," he added with a wink. "You're a natural." He offered another arrow. "Let's see this one."
Mona took it, pulse quickening. Valen adjusted her stance, hands firm. At his nod, she drew a breath, pulled back, released. Thwack. The arrow struck the target's edge. Her ears shot up. A delighted meow escaped her. "I hit it!"
Valen smiled. "Incredible work. Not a bullseye yet, but you show promise." He watched her beam, tail swishing. Hours passed. Her shots grew stronger. Less precise, but fierce. Alleyway survival had built muscle.
As shadows stretched, Valen clapped. "Enough practice." He paused, studying her. "We should pack. Best we leave before dark." He turned toward the house. Mona followed, tail wagging.
"Valen," Mona called as they stepped into the house's warmth, "can we talk while we pack?" She hadn't had much companionship and found spending time with him, sharing stories, incredibly appealing.
Valen turned to her, eyes crinkling. "Of course, Mona. What's on your mind?" He set aside the bow and quiver, gathering clothes to pack.
Mona's ears perked up, head tilting as she watched him. "Well, I've noticed humans have all sorts of... things they do," she said. "Like, what's with all the different types of clothes?" She looked down, fur ruffling. "Why do you need so many layers?"
Valen chuckled. "Ah, clothes," he said, holding up a shirt. "They serve more purposes than you might think." He gestured to his armor. "The shirt is for comfort, this for protection. Sometimes we dress for occasions. Festivals or meetings with important people." He glanced back, eyes sparkling. "But it's also nice to be clean."
Mona's eyes widened as she watched him pack. She had never owned much beyond her fur and occasional stolen trinkets. "Why do humans need so much stuff?" she asked, padding closer. "I jus' have my fur to keep me warm an' clean." She glanced down. "All I've got is this old shirt, pants, an' cloak… mostly to blend in." She sat, head tilted, tail swishing.
Valen folded a tunic, gaze thoughtful. "Humans are an odd bunch. Some seek status in possessions, others comfort in familiar fabrics." He sighed. "But greed blurs lines. Taking more than needed often leaves others with nothing." His eyes grew distant. "It's a balance we struggle with, causing suffering." He focused on her, expression gentle. "For us, we'll pack just enough to be safe and comfortable."
Mona watched Valen's expression, thoughtful. The concept of 'more than needed' felt foreign. On the streets, every scrap was treasure. She nodded.
As they stepped out, the city's bustle fading, she felt excitement and some anxiety. "So," she began, voice light as they walked, "what are these 'festivals'? Like when humans throw food and I catch it without them getting mad?"
Valen chuckled, her innocence charming him. "No, Mona, festivals are more organized," he said, adjusting his pack as they walked through tall grass, sunset stretching the shadows. "Celebrations with shared food, music, games." He glanced back, stride easy. "Grinter's sunflower festival starts soon. You'll see it's no alley scraps. We'll find you clothes to blend better, if you want." His tone brightened. "Anything else to discuss while we walk?"
Mona's eyes lit up. "Really?" she breathed. "But what if they don't fit? Or I don't like them?" Her mind raced with images of colorful fabrics. She took a calming breath. "What do humans do at festivals?"
"Mona," Valen smiled gently, "we'll find what suits you. You choose at the market." He ruffled her hair. "Festivals are about letting go. Laughing, dancing, and enjoying life. It's like a giant playground." His gaze flickered toward the horizon briefly. "Let's just have fun, okay?"
They walked side by side, evening air cool against them as Calamor faded behind. Sunset blazed oranges and pinks across the sky. Valen paused often, letting Mona loose arrows into fields, her excited squeaks punctuating each shot. As night deepened, Grinter's glow emerged, torchlight flickering over streets. The air thickened with perfume from festival garlands and the savory tang of roasting meat from nearby stalls, mingling with distant laughter.
At the Golden Petal Inn's archway, Valen scanned the crowd, fingers brushing his whip's hilt. Coins clinked on the counter as he secured lodging. The innkeeper, with thick arms dusted by flour, handed keys with a nod.
Mona drifted through the room, fingertips brushing the quilt's downy surface. Then she saw it: a vibrant flyer on the side table, splashed with sunflowers and swirling script. Words. So many. She traced a bold "G" with her claw, throat tightening. Luna's voice cut through the silence: "Words are maps, Mona. Even for lost things." Valen was unpacking when she turned, the paper crumpling slightly in her grip. "Valen?"
He glanced up, catching the flyer in her hand and the fracture in her composure. "Everything alright?"
"Luna... she knew how to make sense of these." Mona's ears flattened. She forced the next words out. "I can't. Never learned." Her gaze fixed on the floorboards, as if they might swallow her shame. "I jus'… survived." When she finally looked up, her voice frayed. "Could you teach me?" Her tail coiled tight around her leg.
She can't read? Well, that makes sense. Valen's expression grew thoughtful as he looked at Mona. "If you learned the common tongue, you can learn anything," he said with a soft smile. "You've thrived without letters. But if you wish to learn, I'll teach you." He reached out, hand brushing her fur. "Nothing worth doing is easy. We start with the alphabet."
Valen sat cross-legged, back against the bed. He pulled parchment and charcoal from his pack. "Look." The stick scraped against the material. "Letters build words." Mona leaned in, eyes fixed on his handiwork, curiosity bright.
She nodded, gaze glued to the parchment. Hours passed. The fire crackled as Valen drew symbols, enunciating them. Mona mimicked the sounds, and her tail swished with each small triumph. But as candles guttered low, she spoke up, voice hesitant. "Valen?"
Valen looked up from the parchment, weariness in his eyes but warmth in his smile. "Yes, Mona?" Her gaze remained glued to the symbols, thoughts racing. She wished of leaving a mark beyond Calamor's shadows, a name known beyond alley whispers. It kindled hope. She lifted her eyes to his. "Could..." Her voice was feather-soft, tentative. "...you teach me to write my name?" The words felt strange, powerful. A declaration of identity she'd never dared voice. Ears tilted forward, she waited, breath caught.
Valen's expression softened, understanding the weight. "Of course." Gently, he positioned the charcoal between her fingers. "Watch closely." He drew an 'M', pausing for her to mimic the angles. "Good." Next, an 'O'—"a circle," he murmured, his hand flowing smooth. Mona's eyes widened, tail twitching as she scraped out a lopsided curve. "Perfect," he encouraged. "'N' is a mountain." She copied, focus absolute. Finally, he grinned. "'A'—like a kitten's ear." Mona drew the lines, then stared. It was her name shimmering on parchment. Valen squeezed her shoulder. "There. You did it."
Mona stared at her name. Not just lines, but proof she existed. She leaned close, paw-pad brushing charcoal smudges, correcting a wobble. Satisfaction bloomed. "Mona," she whispered aloud. Wonder washed over her. She lifted shining eyes to Valen. "Thank you," she mewed, tail lashing joyfully. For the first time, she felt like someone with a story worth telling.
Valen watched, warmth swelling in his chest, a feeling long absent. Past pain faded beside Mona's light. "Any time," he murmured, affection thick. "You did brilliantly. I'm proud." He took the stick, set it aside. "But now—" He stood, stretching stiff muscles. "Rest. Big day tomorrow." He offered his hand, calloused palm open.
Mona took his hand, rising. She met his eyes. "Valen," she whispered, tail flicking. "I know you said rest, but..." Hesitation knocked. "Could you... teach me your name too?" Childlike curiosity sparkled in her gaze.
Valen stifled a yawn, smile widening. "Absolutely. But why mine?" He leaned against the bedpost. "Because I'm your friend?" His gaze held hers. Her answer would reveal their bond's depth.
Mona blushed, ears twitching. "Because... you're important." She inhaled. "One of few humans who's not mean to me." Her tail swished against soft blankets. "I wanna write to you." Then, a sly grin blooming: "An' leave notes around the house for you to find."
Valen's smile deepened. "A wonderful idea." He snatched parchment and charcoal, movements fluid. Guiding her paws, he traced 'V'—"a bird's wing"—then 'A', 'L', each stroke firming her quivering fingers. Mona's throat tightened as pride surged. Finally, she beamed at their work. Valen lifted the parchment. "Look."
'Mona' beside 'Valen.' Simple. Enduring. Mona stared—their names knotted like roots. A promise in ash and fiber. Her claws unsheathed, scoring the parchment's margin.
Her tail swished happily against the bed. She took the parchment, tracing her name with a gentle touch. "It's... beautiful," she whispered, voice thick with awe. "Thank you, Valen." Her eyes shone when she looked up, basking in a warmth she'd never known.
Valen stifled a yawn, voice gravelly with exhaustion. "Not a problem, Mona. Now, sleep. Big day tomorrow." He gestured to the other bed, eyelids already heavy. "Goodnight, little one." He lay down, whip coiled beside him like a sleeping serpent, succumbing to sleep instantly.
Mona curled up clutching the parchment. Thoughts whirled as she watched his chest rise and fall, his presence an unexpected comfort. Eyes drifting shut, she breathed into the dark: "'Goodnight."