"You know, Agnos, I'm starting to think you're enjoying this far too much," I muttered, glancing at the purple cat perched on my shoulder.
His golden eyes sparkled with barely contained mischief, his tongue clicking now and then as if holding back laughter.
Agnos, of course, didn't reply. He rarely spoke when he could let me fumble through life for his entertainment.
But the glint in his eyes said it all. He was having a blast watching me squirm.
Our situation wasn't exactly comedy gold, though. Standing at the gates of Troll City—or as I was starting to call it, The Fortress of Miscommunication—I found myself faced with a daunting language barrier.
Towers of stone loomed over us, their jagged edges cutting into the sky like some ancient deity's teeth. Massive trolls with skin like cracked granite and eyes like molten gold glared down at us from their posts.
