When the Queen of Hearts rose up from her bed, a dreamless night it had been—she came across the strangest thing. A long sinuous and serpent like, for it danced back and forth to an unknown rhythm, but furry tail. Now it had made sense that there was a heavy feeling upon her belly, because there truly was something upon her. A fine start to a morning if ever.
Rosalyn Lockhart eyed the creature upon her bed—and in this moment, it was more cat than man.
A small furry creature lay atop her bed and it was a cat. Not the most normal of cats either, it was Chesire, for who else but they could enter her premises while her Knight guarded her? Perhaps she should have shouted, she might have normally done so—but then again, no old Chesire would have done something as reckless as this either.
Should she even say a word?
