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“Oh, hello there,” Merrill said brightly to the shabby little grey kitten that had started weaving back in forth between her ankles as she stood in line at a market stall.
The kitten looked up at Merrill and opened her mouth wide, eyes squeezing narrow with the effort, to let out a tiny squeak, nearly inaudible over the bustle of the Lowtown bazaar. Merrill smiled and knelt to give the kitten a gentle scratch behind the ears. The kitten’s eyes slipped shut in pleasure as she leaned into Merrill’s hand.
“How sweet you are,” Merrill cooed. “Is there anyone who takes care of you?”
The kitten gave another little peep by way of reply – a ‘no’, perhaps. She clambered atop Merrill’s thigh, leaning her weight back on her haunches before pushing off with her hind legs and taking a leap towards Merrill’s shoulder. Her tiny claws dug into the thick wool of Merrill’s tunic as she grappled to stay steady on her narrow shoulder. Merrill froze, stock still, until the kitten had her balance back, turning to face forward. Her proud but dirty whiskers brushed the skin of Merrill’s cheek.
“You have very lovely whiskers, lethallan,” Merrill said. “May I call you ‘Whiskers’? You do need a name, after all.”
The kitten rubbed its face against Merrill’s cheek, which Merrill took as a yes.
Merrill stood up slowly, carefully, keeping her back as straight as she could to avoid jostling Whiskers. The line for the market stall had moved on without her while she was distracted, the people queued in front of her having dissipated before being replaced by others who had simply stepped around her.
She frowned. “Oh dear. I suppose I should have been paying attention.”
Whiskers batted at one of the tied sections of her cropped hair.
Merrill laughed. “Don’t worry, lethallan, it’s not your fault,” she said as she took her place at the end of the line. “I’m always happy to make a new friend, even if I do lose my place in line.” She gave Whiskers’s nose a gentle tap with her fingertip.
The line moved quickly, and Merrill balanced her purchases on one hip as she headed back towards her house, steps careful to assure Whiskers would not fall from her shoulder.
“Isabela calls me ‘Kitten’ sometimes, you know,” Merrill informed Whiskers conversationally. “I wonder if that means she likes cats?” Merrill thought for a moment, chewing at the inside of her lip. “I think all of my friends would like you. Anders especially. He’s seemed rather restless lately – perhaps we should pay him a visit later. I think you could make him smile.”
Navigating the crowded streets while balancing Whiskers on one side and her packages on the other was proving more of a challenge than Merrill had anticipated. As she passed in front of the Hanged Man she nearly stumbled on a patch of uneven stone, just barely catching herself as her body jerked forward with the missed step. Whiskers dug in her claws, but Merrill could feel one little back paw slipping from her shoulder. Merrill’s heart lurched into her throat, her mind racing with nothing helpful, but someone quickly reached out to scoop up the kitten before she could fall.
Merrill spun around to see Fenris standing behind her, halfway out of the door of the Hanged Man, clutching Whiskers and giving a long exhale in what Merrill was certain was relief.
“Ma serannas, Fenris,” Merrill breathed, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. “It’s lucky that you were there!”
Fenris wrinkled his nose. “If you’re going to keep a pet, at least take proper care of it,” he spat, but his voice was quiet, with hardly any venom in it. As he looked down at the shaking kitten cradled in the crook of his arm, his expression softened into a tenderness that made Merrill’s eyebrows rise in surprise. Whiskers slowly relaxed from the shock and began to purr, curled up against Fenris’s chest, looking impossibly content.
“She likes you!” Merrill exclaimed in delight.
Fenris gave a noncommittal huff and stalked off in the direction of the Alienage with Whiskers held securely in his arms.
“Hurry up,” he barked back when Merrill didn’t immediately follow. She shook her head and hurried after him.
When they arrived in the Alienage, Isabela was leaning back against the frame of Merrill’s front door with her arms folded at her waist. “Oh how cute,” she sang as they approached from around the vhenadhal. Merrill’s smile beamed as Fenris held Whiskers where Isabela could reach and she softly scratched under the kitten’s chin.
“It’s Merrill’s cat,” Fenris said dismissively, his attempt to seem uninterested betrayed by the way one corner of his mouth kept twitching into a grin.
“Oh, Kitten,” Isabela exclaimed, “You’ve found a kitten!” Her gaze met Merrill’s fondly, and Merrill felt heat rising to her face. She scurried for the door to hide her blush.
“Her name is Whiskers,” Merrill announced as she pushed the door open. Isabela reached over to hold it, and then followed the others inside. Fenris set Whiskers gently on the floor. The kitten took a few hesitant steps and began sniffing around, exploring her new home.
“I don’t suppose you have anything to feed her,” Isabela said.
Merrill frowned. “Oh dear,” she said with her brow furrowed, “I should have bought something at the market, shouldn’t I? I knew I was forgetting something.”
Fenris let out a disgusted sigh from the back of his throat, all but throwing his hands up in frustration as he mumbled that he would be right back and headed outside again. Carelessly, he let the door fall heavily closed behind him with a bang. Whiskers jumped at the sound and darted under a table.
“Get me an ale while you’re out!” Isabela shouted after him.
Merrill sighed and knelt down on the floor, tilting her head low to see where Whiskers stood stiffly, as far under the table as possible, staring back with round eyes. “It’s alright, lethallan,” Merrill said softly. “I’m sure Fenris didn’t mean to frighten you, even if he is always cross.”
Isabela snorted a laugh and gave Merrill’s shoulder a squeeze. “She just needs a moment, Kitten,” Isabela explained, her hand lingering on Merrill’s shoulder. “She’ll come out on her own soon enough.”
Merrill stood and gave a nod. “You’re right.”
She crossed the room and sank into a chair. Isabela draped herself over the back of the chair, absently toying with Merrill’s hair as a comfortable silence descended upon them. It wasn’t very long before Whiskers came creeping out from beneath the table. The kitten took a wary look around, this way and that, before bounding over to Merrill and jumping up into her lap.
“I’ll be giving Fenris a stern talking-to for you,” Isabela purred to the kitten. “That’s a promise.”
Whiskers met Merrill’s gaze, and a grin spread across Merrill’s face. “Andaran atish’an,” she said with mock formality, laughing as the kitten curled up atop her legs and closed her eyes.