Morning light warmed the room through the window. Valen opened his eyes, stretched, and winced as old aches flared beneath his skin. He sat up, his gaze landing on Mona in the next bed over. She was curled tight, the parchment she'd been writing on still crumpled in her fist. A smile tugged at his mouth. He nudged her boot with his own.
"Wake up, Mona," he murmured. "Sun's up. The festival waits for no one."
Mona stirred, blinking sleep from her eyes. Disorientation faded as yesterday's memories rushed back. Dawn hadn't dimmed the thrill humming beneath her fur. She sat up, her tail flicking eagerly toward Valen. "Awright," she mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Le's go."
They stepped from the Golden Petals into a riot of color. The streets swam with gold petals, mirroring the grins of townsfolk. Scents of roasting nuts and warm bread tangled with flower pollen. Mona gaped at vendors hawking wreaths, patterned clothes, and crackling seed pans. Children wove through the stalls, their laughter sharp against the crowd's murmur. Valen kept a heavy hand on her shoulder, guiding her deeper into the bustle.
He nudged her toward a stall overflowing with fabrics. "Here we are," he said, sweeping a hand across the vibrant display. "Take your time. Whatever catches your eye, it's yours." His throat tightened watching her hesitate. This small luxury… let her have it.
Mona froze before the rainbow of textures. Colors deeper than the rolling fields, fabrics smoother than forest leaves. She crept forward, tail flicking uncertainly, and brushed her fingertips over a bolt of velvet. "Oh, Valen," she whispered. She held up a sunflower-yellow dress, the fabric trembling in her grasp. "It's... so different." She clutched it to her chest, eyes blazing gold. "Can I try it?"
Valen chuckled. "Go right ahead."
She darted between the stalls, not walking but flowing. Her street-honed limbs vaulted crates; her laughter scattered like dropped coins. Wild thing, he thought, turned festival-kitten.
Mona's fingers skimmed silks and scratched wools. "This?" She whirled, holding sapphire linen against her fur. At Valen's nod, her tail lashed with glee. "Or this?" Emerald velvet this time. His approval lit her face brighter than any lantern. Soon her arms overflowed with folded colors: sunflower yellow, twilight purple, dawn pink. Each choice piled higher, each more impossible to resist.
Valen approached the vendor, his smile softening as Mona's twirls sent her sunflower dress flaring. Worth every coin. He dropped a heavy pouch into the merchant's palm. "This should cover it." The vendor gaped at the overpayment. "Keep the rest," Valen muttered, his gaze still fixed on Mona, gold on gold in the sunlight.
Her nose quivered first. Then her tail snapped upright like a banner. "Valen!" She jabbed a claw toward a pastry cart, where steam curled above honey-glazed cookies and sausage rolls wrapped in sunflower leaves. An elderly vendor beamed. Mona's stomach growled loud enough for Valen to hear.
His chuckle rumbled low. "Two cookies," he told the vendor, "and one sausage." Mona snatched the honeyed disc, nibbling the edge. Her eyes squeezed shut; a purr vibrated in her throat.
Hours blurred. Mona darted between ring-toss stalls and puppet shows, her tail telegraphing every gasp. But Valen froze mid-laugh. A fire-eater's flourish was a little too familiar. Saw that scam before. He masked his grimace by tossing a coin to the performer. Later, under the musician's lutes, Mona flowed like water through a riverbed. Valen matched her, his steps precise. Old adventurer's muscle memory. Together, they spun through the crowd.
Sunset bled gold into indigo. Lanterns bloomed like fireflies above; cool air carried the lingering scent of burnt sugar and seared meat. Mona tilted her face upward as twilight gilded her fur copper.
Valen watched her drink it in. That raw wonder… it clawed at him. Not with envy, but with a deep ache. When did I last taste a breeze without tasting blood first? Her joy felt like a thumb pressed hard on an old bruise. Precious, but painful.
As the lanterns faded and the crowds thinned to shadows, they slumped against a cartwheel, bowed sunflower heads surrounding them. Mona's purrs steadied, then slowly stilled. Her whole body went slack against Valen's side, just dead weight and trust. He pulled her closer. Pride warmed the dread chilling his veins. "Tomorrow we turn for Calamor."
Her breathing deepened, a tide pulling out. Valen watched the horizon. Calamor's calls whispered of prying eyes and knives in shadow. But here, the stars salted the dark. Her warmth was a solid weight against his ribs. This peace, stolen and sweet. He rested his cheek on her hair. Let Calamor's hunger wait till dawn.
Time pulled taut. The stars wheeled westward. Valen's shoulder tightened before he nudged Mona. "Wake up, little one." His murmur brushed her ear.
She blinked. Stars swam in her wide pupils like a thousand fish. A yawn cracked her jaw; her spine arched like a bow. "Headin' back?" she slurred, her fur rumpled.
He nodded, his palm already resting on the whip's hilt as they walked. The streets lay empty and moonlit. Mona floated beside him, drunk on the festival-light still glowing behind her eyelids.
Inside the Golden Petals, candle-smoke and wood resin wrapped around them. Valen sank onto a stool, his quill scraping against parchment. "Let's get back to your lessons." Mona slumped across the table, her chin propped on her fists. Her eyes tracked his finger as he traced letters in the air—A, B, C—like she was watching fireflies dance. "Alright," he said, his voice roughened by fatigue. "Your turn."
Her tail lashed in slow arcs, keeping rhythm with her concentration. Her finger mirrored his: A, B, C. Candlelight shuddered; shadows leapt across the plaster walls. The peace felt thick as sap.
Hours bled away. Valen's eyelids grew heavy, but his voice stayed steady. "It's getting late. Let's stop here."
A yawn. Mona slumped forward, her forehead bumping the table. "Thank you, Valen," she whispered into the wood grain.
His smile cut through the exhaustion. "Rest now." He steered her toward her bed, tucking the rough wool blankets around her shoulders. "Long roads tomorrow."
Silence. Then her breathing deepened. Valen stared at the ceiling from his own bed, Calamor's ghosts already gathering in the rafters. Sleep took him like a thief.
---
Mona dreamed of the alley again. That quiet place behind the tavern where the smells of stale beer and rotting vegetables clung to damp stones. She was just a kit. A man appeared, his thin shoulders hunched beneath a patched coat. After a furtive glance, he set down a cloth bundle. Mona watched from behind shadowed crates, her nose twitching at the scent of day-old bread and chicken skin. Her belly cramped.
She waited until his footsteps faded before darting out. Sometimes she caught glimpses of him watching from a window upstairs, his face tight with something she didn't have a name for until years later: fear. His scraps kept her alive through three winters. Small kindnesses, paid in silence.
Then, one dusk, a crowd came. Six, maybe seven faces, streaked with lantern light as they pressed into the alley's mouth. Mona froze mid-bite, the bread crust sharp in her mouth. The old man flinched, his shoulders curling inward. A woman jabbed a finger toward Mona's tail, her words spat out like thrown gravel.
Behind them stood a man in a velvet coat, too clean for this place. He was smiling. It chilled her. The old man murmured something, his hands trembling as he gathered the half-eaten scraps. Mona wanted to brush against his leg, to purr. Anything to lift his bowed head. But his fear was a wall. She tried to speak.
Silence choked her throat. Why? I was born here. The streets are my home. The thoughts clawed inside her ribs. The velvet-coated man stepped forward as the others scattered, holding out a sliver of meat glistening with oily sauce. Mona's fur rose.
Wrong smell. Like dead flowers and vinegar. She bared her teeth, a low rumble building in her chest. Her tiny claws extended. His smile snapped shut. For a heartbeat, his hand lifted. Mona braced for the impact. But he only laughed, cold as winter iron. "Waste," he murmured, pocketing the tainted offering before striding away.
When dawn streaked the alley, Mona was pressed against the cold bricks, her tail tucked tight. No footsteps came. No cloth bundle. Just the ache in her belly. When he finally appeared, his limp was new. A purple bloom stained his cheek. He didn't look at her as he dropped a heel of cheese. Mona crept forward. Why hurt? she tried to ask. Only a thin chirp escaped. She tugged at his ankle. He flinched.
Suddenly: Boots. Heavy and fast.
Mona's tail shot straight, her eyes wide as guards rounded the corner, their gazes locked on her and the kind human. Cruel intention burned in their eyes. She bolted. Darting through alleyways with feline speed, her paws pounded the stone as she zigzagged through narrow streets, shouts washing over her. Her heart raced until the sounds faded, and she found refuge in a cramped space between buildings.
From the shadows, she watched guards drag the man away, his cries echoing. The food in her stomach turned to stone. Kindness has a price. The world blurred, alleyways dissolving like smoke. Then, abrupt stillness: she lay in her bed at the Golden Petals inn, her heart pounding, breaths ragged.
---
Mona jerked awake with a fearful mew. Valen was there in an instant, his hand gentle on her shoulder. "Mona?" Concern thickened his voice. Her eyes snapped open, horror still clutching her heart. He sat beside her, stroking her hair. "A nightmare," he murmured. "You're safe." His candlelit smile tried to banish the shadows from her gaze. "What was it about?" The words were gentle, but his firm grip promised protection.
Her breathing slowed as his presence anchored her. "I... dreamed of someone," she whispered. "A kind human who left food when I was alone." Her eyes sought his. "His neighbors hurt him because of me. I wanted to thank him... say I didn't mean trouble..." A tear trailed down her cheek. "But I couldn't." She shuddered. "You're different. You don't just leave food and hide. You stay." Her voice firmed. "You care."
Valen brushed her tear away. "Mona," he murmured, the word heavy. "Calamor teaches people to fear difference. Survival makes them blind." His thumb lingered. "He cared—but fear trapped him." He paused, choosing his words. "Their laws fine kindness to beastfolk. They call it feeding a plague." His jaw tightened. "The poorest suffer most. As if our very existence is an insult to their comfort." He sighed, the weight of it all pressing down. "But..." His grip firmed on her shoulder. "Whispers of change are growing. People are starting to stand against the tide." He leaned closer. "I'll be fighting beside them. For you."
A flash of anger hardened into resolve in Mona's eyes. "The key?" Valen leaned in. "Compassion. Especially when it's hardest." He took a deep breath. "Too many humans ignore the suffering of those they see as 'unfavorable'." His thumb traced her jaw. "We can't. Or our world stays small." A bitter chuckle escaped him. "More challenges will come." His grip promised shelter. "I'll show you humans who see past the fur..." His voice dropped. "...to the soul."
"You know what they do?" Her eyes never left his. "They laugh. They throw rocks an'... an' round us up. Call us pests." Her throat closed. "If no one comes... they kill you. Alone. In the cold." A tear fell. "They set fires where we sleep and smile as we burn... Why do I gotsa be 'favorable' for you to care?"
Valen's gaze darkened, regret and anger mingling as her words struck him. He'd witnessed it firsthand. He knew. A heavy weight settled in his chest, compressing his ribs as her pain resonated deep within him. His arms wrapped around her trembling frame, gentle yet firm. "I'm sorry, Mona," he murmured into her tangled hair, his voice thick with shared sorrow. "For the fear. For the pain." His heart ached—not just for her suffering, but for every stolen laugh, every withheld kindness she'd endured. "You're more than their ignorance." His embrace tightened.
Mona trembled, leaning into Valen like a wind-battered flower seeking shelter. The dam burst. Tears she'd hoarded for years spilled hot down her cheeks, soaking his tunic. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest, her voice frayed raw. "I wasn't tryin'… to be so mean." Her eyes squeezed shut; her shoulders shook with silent sobs. "Jus'… never told anyone."
The anger bled out, leaving a hollow sadness. "I jus' wanna live," Mona murmured, softer than firewood ash settling. Her claws dug into Valen's tunic. Desperation edged her whisper. A long-buried innocence surfaced briefly in her trembling lips.
Valen stroked her hair, his gaze unwavering. "We'll get there, Mona. I promise." His voice softened to a whisper. "Just focus on growing stronger. For now." He studied her face, the lines around his eyes deepening. "Are you okay?" The question hung bare between them, offering no escape into pretense. He knew the road ahead would test them, but he'd walk it with her, step for step.
Mona nodded, her eyes still swollen from tears. A shaky breath escaped her before she pressed her face against Valen's chest. His warmth grounded her. "Your promise," she murmured into his tunic, her voice thick. "Means everythin'." Her tail gave a feeble twitch.
Valen's gaze stayed fixed on the distance. "Whatever it takes." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then stood with a low groan, his spine cracking faintly. "But first, breakfast. You need fuel." He extended a calloused palm. "We leave for Calamor after."
---
Dawn bled into full morning, gilding the fields outside the city. Crisp air carried the tang of decaying leaves—autumn's first warning. Valen walked with a hunter's quiet tread, Mona matching his pace, her ears twitching at every rustle in the underbrush. Silence stretched between them, broken only by their footsteps on crushed foliage and the calls of distant crows.
Then Valen spoke. He spun low, steady tales of narrow escapes and rotten rope bridges. These weren't tales of glory, but caution. Mona hung on each word, her shoulder brushing his arm as they reached a clearing. He slid his bow free. "Let's take a break here. Time for you to practice."
Mona gripped the bow with newfound resolve, her muscles flexing as she drew the string back. Her tail tip twitched with concentration. Arrows fell short at first, but each attempt tightened her aim. The thwip of the string and thud of arrows filled the air, the shots creeping closer to the targets' centers. Valen watched with a smirk, offering quiet corrections.
Hours melted under the sun's warmth. Rustling leaves and distant wings kept them company. Mona's eyes narrowed, the world slowing as she loosed another arrow. Then she froze mid-motion, the bowstring quivering. Her nose twitched, her ears swiveling toward a scent on the wind. Valen noticed her stillness instantly, his gaze snapping toward the woods.
"Everything okay?" Valen asked, his voice low and calm. His eyes tracked Mona's gaze into the foliage. Tension thickened the clearing as they both strained their senses. Only rustling leaves and distant birds answered.
Mona's tail swished, uneasy. "Not sure," she whispered, her eyes darting. "There's a scent… Flowers, but somethin' under it." Her nose twitched. "It's familiar… like…" She trailed off, turning to Valen. Her yellow eyes were wide, curiosity edged with fear. "Do you smell it?"
"I don't," Valen admitted, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Your senses are sharper." He stepped closer, his hand resting on his whip. "We should tread carefully." He watched her face, the morning's playfulness vanished. "We're near Calamor. Eyes open. Ears sharp."
As the city's outskirts came into view, the rumble of a shipping caravan grew louder. Imperial guards in crimson and gold stood out against the wagon's earthy tones. Valen's grip tightened on his whip. Five guards, including the captain. He raised a hand, signaling Mona to crouch low. He nodded toward the caravan. "Why such heavy guard for a simple transport? This isn't a royal escort."
A familiar curiosity prickled his spine. Adventure whispered on the wind. His hand twitched toward his whip. He'd always loved unraveling shadows. But Mona's safety anchored him. "Wonder what Lord Aldric's tangled in now," he murmured, his lips curving. The quiet life he led now rarely offered such intrigue.
His gaze snapped to Mona, his smile hardening into intent. "Listen," he whispered. He drew an arrow, slicing it across his chest with practiced precision. Wincing, he carved three shallow, fake claw marks. Blood welled.
Mona's eyes widened in shock. Her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. "What are you doin'?!" she squeaked, her voice trembling. Her tail lashed behind her as she stepped back. Deliberate self-harm was confusing, frightening.
"It's just part of the ruse, Mona," Valen said, the pain in his expression softening into reassurance. "These guards distrust outsiders, but they fear the wilds." He gestured at the wounds. "I'll cause a commotion. Make them chase a 'monster.' While they're distracted, you slip into the wagon. Grab the manifest." He wiped the blood from the arrow with a cloth and offered a lopsided smile. "Can you do that?"
Mona nodded, eagerness replacing shock. Her eyes sparkled. "I can!" Her tail flicked rapidly. A moment passed. Her smile stayed wide, but she tilted her head in a playful, questioning look. "What's a manifest?"
Valen sighed, realizing his assumption of her understanding was hasty. He crouched, eyes meeting hers with a gentle smile. "A manifest. It's like a list, Mona," he began, hands motioning as if scribbling on an invisible scroll. "It tells us what's in the wagon. It might be a rolled parchment with a ribbon—"
Mona's ears perked up. "A ribbon?" she interrupted, the word leaving her mouth in a way that was neither a question nor a statement, but a pure, instinctual reflex. Her pupils dilated slightly.
Valen fought a smile. "Yes, a ribbon. But it's just the tie. The important part is the parchment. The list inside."
She gave a sharp, decisive nod, as if scolding herself for the distraction. "Right. The list. Need the list." As the caravan neared, her eyes widened, tail thumping as she grasped the task's weight. The ribbon was forgotten.
As the caravan neared, the thrum of hooves and wheels grew louder. Mona's eyes widened, her tail thumping the ground as she nodded, finally grasping the task's importance. Valen burst from the trees. "Monster! Help!" he shouted, his voice raw with a panic that was sharp with calculation. The driver jerked the reins; horses startled to a halt. The guards scanned the woods, hands flying to sword hilts.
With an exaggerated stagger, Valen lurched toward the caravan, his hand pressed to the fake wound. "Oh, gods," he gasped. "Thank you for stopping!" He stumbled closer, his eyes wild. "Goblins set upon me!" He pointed shakily to the forest, his whip coiled around his wrist. "Just there. They must be plotting something, being this close to the city."
The captain of the guard, a grizzled man with a scar slicing his cheek, kept his hand tight on his sword hilt as he edged toward Valen. His eyes were narrow, sharp with distrust, darting between Valen's face and the bloodied rag. "Easy there," the captain rumbled, his voice low and gravelly.
Valen let his voice waver. "Please," he begged, his fingers trembling as he lifted the cloth to show the shallow gashes. "My place is just outside the city." He winced, his gaze snapping toward the woods—not for goblins, but searching for Mona. "They're closing in," he pressed, layering the desperation thick. "If we don't act now..." He let the threat hang, his face a mask of wide-eyed dread and fragile hope.
The captain's stare cut to the treeline, his jaw tight. Calamor came first. Always. "You heard 'im," he snapped at his men. "Four of you, scout ahead. I'll hold the caravan." His tone brooked no argument. The guards peeled off, their boots crunching leaves as they vanished into the shadows.
Valen offered a strained grin. "Thank you, Captain." His gaze flicked sideways. Mona was a blur of gold fur, low to the ground, darting toward the wagon's undercarriage. Almost there. He cleared his throat, wincing for effect. "But... before I go?" His voice was thin. "Got any bandages? I'd hate to bleed out on the way."
The captain's eyes stayed locked on Valen. He muttered under his breath, rummaging in a nearby crate. It wasn't holding bandages, but what looked like discarded personal effects. He pulled out a simple, homespun tunic. It was dirty and carried a faint, musky scent Valen couldn't place. The captain ripped it into a strip with a sharp tug.
"That'll do," the captain said, tossing the cloth at Valen's boots.
Valen caught it with an ease that was too smooth for an injured man. Shit. He masked it with a wince. With his forced smile tight, his eyes flicked back to the wagon. Mona's tail vanished beneath the axle. Good. He fumbled the cloth, letting it slip. "Mind... helping with this?" His voice was strained, his fingers clumsy on the knot. "My wounds have me shaking."
The captain sighed, his patience thin. He stepped in close and yanked the knot tight. Valen hissed. Just a little longer. Mona had to be fast.
Inside the wagon, it was all clutter, sacks, and tools. Mona's fingers flew. No time to sniff. She knew ribbons meant fancy. There. A rolled parchment with a crimson tie. She snatched it. Her heart drummed in her ears.
Outside, the captain growled. Mona didn't wait. One sharp nod toward Valen—got it—and she was gone. A gold streak through the ferns, silent as an owl's flight. Behind her, the captain's head whipped around. "Huh?" Too late. Only rustling bushes remained.
Valen spoke hastily, trying to steal back his attention. "Ah, Captain. Always watching our backs." He spread his hands, a picture of harmlessness. "Need help tracking those—"
Boots thudded. Guards spilled from the trees, panting. "Nothin'," one spat, wiping sweat. "No tracks. No stink. Nada."
The captain didn't move. He just stared at Valen. "Slipped away," he murmured. Low. Dangerous. His knuckles were white on his sword hilt. "Funny how that happens."
Instead of confronting Valen, the captain yanked the bandage knot tighter. Too tight. "Best tend to that... wound," he growled. "There's a healer in town. Move." A jerk of his chin toward the gates. "And keep your eyes peeled for these goblins."
Valen bowed. "Your concern... touches me." Hobbling away, he dragged his whip through the dirt.. Each step screamed run. Behind him, the guards muttered about checking the wagon. How long until they noticed? Mona better be clear.
His steps lightened once he was out of view, his stride gaining confidence. As the trees thinned and the city's noise swelled, he felt alive again. Like the adventurer he'd once been. The mystery of the caravan's cargo pulled him back toward his past.
Back at the house, he called for Mona, expecting her sprawled across the couch or practicing her archery behind the house. The swept path led to the porch, its wood creaking a welcome. Inside, the air held the faint scent of a blown-out candle. Her bow and quiver leaned against the wall, arrows tidy. Everything was in place.
Valen called her name again, his voice echoing in the quiet. Her usual purr was missing. He listened, ears straining, but heard no rustle of her tail against the furniture or her soft footsteps. Unease stabbed at him, deepening with each second.
Before he fully turned, a streak of gold shot from the shadows. Mona's playful growl rang out as she leaped, claws carefully sheathed. She landed lightly on his shoulders, hugging him tight, her eyes bright.
"Mona!" Valen's voice was thick with relief as he steadied her. A hearty laugh escaped him. "Had me worried there, little one." He brushed her ear. "But your instincts? Sharp as ever." He patted her head, his grin widening. "Great work snagging that manifest."
Mona leaned into his touch, her purr vibrating against his palm. "It was easy," she shrugged. As she pulled away, her nose wrinkled. That smell again. There. She snagged the bloodied rags binding his chest, slicing them free with a claw. She thrust the parchment at Valen as she examined the makeshift bandage. "What's it say?"
Valen scanned the parchment. "Livestock. Three females. Intact… That's all?" He flipped it over. Blank. "Valuable, sure, but not worth a full detachment..." He noticed Mona's tense posture and looked up. "Mona?"
She pressed the bloodied rags to her nose. A deep inhale, and her pupils shrank to slits. Her tail lashed, her ears drawing back.
Mona didn't blink. "Wait," she said, her voice quiet but absolute. She held up the bloodied rag. "The scent. It's on this. The cloth he gave you." Her stare was hard, the horror dawning. "It smells of… my kind."
Valen froze. His gaze jumped from the manifest to the fabric. His jaw tightened. He met her eyes. "You're… certain?"
"Yes… Catfolk," she whispered.