Noah's footsteps slowed when he spotted her.
Arisha was crouched near the edge of the pathway, her uniform skirt pooling neatly around her knees, her golden eyes fixed on something in the grass beside the street. She hadn't moved when he approached, hadn't stiffened or glanced over her shoulder. As if she had already sensed him coming.
He walked calmly toward her and knelt down beside her, following her gaze.
There, standing on the green lawn was a cat.
Noah blinked.
It was a striking little creature — fur as dark as obsidian, each strand catching the faint afternoon light with an almost liquid sheen. Its eyes were a vivid, burning yellow with narrow vertical slits running through the center, reptilian and sharp and completely at odds with how small and soft the rest of it looked. Its tail curled loosely at its side. Its posture was still, composed, unbothered by the world around it.
It was, without question, one of the most elegant cats Noah had ever seen.
