The Good, the Cat, and the Lovely

Written Oct 28, 2014

10/9 ...later that evening.

Migi walked into the Toasted Pig Inn. He peered through the veil of lingering smoke. Patrons crowded the few tables beneath the grey mist. He slowly strode to the bar looking at every table in turn.

As he ordered a mug of ale, that feeling returned. Someone was watching him. Someone with a malign gaze had fixated on his back. Migi calmly turned, lifting the foamy drink to his lips. His vigilant eyes darted over the rim of the mug. From table to table, left to right, they passed over each patron. The mug lowered. The cool stout taste forced a bitter, yet satisfied smile.

Most eyes were too busy with stories, drinks, or card games. Very few looked his way, but reverted back to their distractions. One set stared his way. The pupils were wide, unwavering. A small pair of yellow irises leered around a fur covered face. The cat lay statue-still across a table in front of a woman. She gently stroked the feline’s fur. Her chiseled features radiated, almost glowed. She was simply enchanting; exceptional quality, even for a human. Migi had to pull his eyes away.

His tiny eyes resumed their scan of the room. Ralph and Elf were sitting further down the bar. Migi took another gratifying sip of ale. He turned his back to the bar. Another interesting figure sat alone at a corner table. His slouch posture looked genuinely innocent, but his eyes moved in an intent fashion. He was intent on something besides his solitary drink.

Another familiar form scurried past. It gave Migi a passing glance as its padded feet carried it to the other feline atop the woman’s table. It glanced around the room atop its new perch. Its neck craned as the woman gave it a scratch under the chin. Migi turned, asking the barkeep for the latest gossip. The rotund man leaned against the bar while cleaning a tankard. He spouted off the recent events better than a town crier.

Migi’s eyes and ears may have been on the news, but his attention was everywhere. He glanced at various reflections on the shelves of bottles. The locals next to him chimed in an opinion once the bartender brought up goings on. Gossip always got people talking. Migi was in the center of a discussion now, steering the topics left and right. Once on Mrs. Burrows’ missing turnips, he half-turned for another survey of his surroundings.

Migi spied for the less rowdy occupants; the ones trying to avoid attention. Yes, there seemed to be a few. None caught his eye more than the woman though. Calling her attractive would be an insult to her suave beauty. Then Migi noticed the man sitting opposite her. It took him far too long to notice the swordsman. His back faced Migi, but the sword against the table rose above the owner’s head. Only one man in the area carried a sword over five feet long. It was Jak.

Migi’s agile pupils darted around the suspect table. Jak, a lovely young woman, and two staring cats made a crowd. Both of them were peering now, trying to pierce his cover. Then, like a sentry post changing guards, the first cat hopped off the table and out the door. The second sat there, unblinking. Its eyes only slightly squinting as the woman caressed its neck.

Migi had to turn back to his conversation. Something bothered him about looking. His eyes would linger longer than normal. And yet he couldn’t remember what she was wearing after he looked away. There was something about her green eyes that shimmered. Something warned him from the back of his mind. He tried to shake the feeling as best he could.

‘There is no need to worry, though,’ he thought. ‘We’re going to meet with the Captain of the Guard, a high priest, and the chief arcane defender of the town here. At any moment they should be walking through the door.’

No sooner than that hope formulated did the door creak open. Migi twirled his stool to see a youthful halfling stride in. Her long wispy sideburns floated around a mischievous smile. What a surprise. What a blunder. He nerves were rising. He never expressed such an eagerness to meet someone. The halfling went the nearby card table. As Migi turned to his neighbor again, he noticed a slight turn of her head. At least, he thought he did.

She sat with her back to him, squeezing in a seat at the table. Maybe it was nothing. He returned to the turnip talk, most likely being stolen by oversized moles. If she was trying not to be noticed, she was failing miserably. She had one of those bubbly personalities, those that believe nothing in the world could be worse than a dead puppy. Her random, wide laughs rose at things that weren’t even funny. She twirled her fingers through her hair to an obnoxious degree. Still, there was something too overt about her.

A few hands passed. Migi tried to drown out the excited open-fingered claps accompanied by her high, squeaky giggles with every winning hand. The whimpering moans every time she lost were just as annoying. Migi tried pressing his agenda with the locals. He asked about the river lowering the last few days. Were there any rumors regarding the mountains to the east? He was about to mention the temple when she appeared right in front of him.

She leaned forward over the bar and ordered a Frost Brandy. She drank it as fast as it was placed in front of her. “Thanks,” she said tossing the cup back to her server. The bartender juggled it, exasperated. “I hope you had enough sleep. It’s going to be a Wild Night!” she said with two emphatic slaps against Migi’s vest. She turned and went back to the table. Before she even reached the table, her attention took another turn. “OOO! A KITTY!”

She picked up the cat that Migi had tried to forget. Rude, loud, and obnoxious; this girl had it all. He reached for his coin purse to drown out the noise. His head tilted down to his belt. His face wrinkled. He had fallen for it. His eyes flicked upward. His coin purse dangled limply at her waist.

It wasn’t easy, but he suppressed the rage. He ensured the last from his mug was empty and casually walked over to the girl. Peering over the brown fur, she whispered something into its triangular ears. They both watched as he approached, trying to show a charitable face.

“Well, you are a wild one?” he said. “Jak. Glad to see you made it back.” Jak didn’t respond. In fact, Jak hadn’t moved since Migi first noticed him.

“Aw, look Mable. The grumpy gnome is upset,” she cautiously petted the fur, but the cat did not seem the least bit passive. Its eyes never moved from Migi. Its ears had turned back. Migi could now hear its low grumbling. “Do you want to pet the kitty?”

“No thanks,” Migi insisted. Jak was conversing in a low tone just an arm’s length away. Migi was sure he would lend a hand if he needed though. “I want something else.”

“Oh, no,” the halfling’s eyes narrowed mischievously. She rubbed her chin against the soft fur. “You should pet the kitty.”

Arms extended, hurling the mass of fur. The cat landed on his face. It clawed and raked at his wide nose. It turned left and right at any appendage dangling enough to latch onto. Migi and the feline exchanged twisted screams of pain and rage. With a screech, Migi pulled it away from his face. It clawed at his arms as he threw it across the room. It hit a few bottles and dropped behind the bar.

Migi twisted around in circles. Everyone in the room was looking at him, laughing… almost everyone. The short wench had vanished in the commotion. The crowd clapped and cheered. A few of them cried out for the victorious cat. Then a silky smooth voice rose above the cheers.

“No one throws MY CAT!” Jak’s body convulsed, as if abruptly awoken from a dream. The woman’s eyes had lost their glint. Her clear voice juxtaposed the contorted rage in her face. Instinctively knowing what was about to happen, Jak staggered to his feet grabbing the hilt of his sword. It was too late. Something, or someone, slammed into his side knocking him to the floor.