The following morning, Lennox woke to the soft sound of scratching. He sat up groggily and squinted around the room. His cat—his cat—was perched on the kitchen table, pawing at the wooden fruit bowl.
"Hey, get down from there!" Lennox hissed, but the cat only glanced at him, its tail flicking in defiance. With one precise swipe, it knocked an apple onto the floor.
Lennox groaned, shuffling out of bed. "Do you just wake up and choose chaos every day?"
The cat leapt gracefully to the floor and began nudging the apple around like it was the most entertaining thing in the world. Lennox grabbed the fruit and set it back in the bowl, only for the cat to swipe it off again.
"I don't have time for this," he muttered, snatching his tunic off the chair. Today was market day, and he didn't need the entire village gossiping about how his supposed "beast" was terrorizing his fruit supply.
By the time he made it to the village square, the market was in full swing. Merchants shouted over one another, selling everything from enchanted herbs to "genuine" relics of forgotten gods (most of which looked suspiciously like rocks). Lennox stuck to the edges, hoping to avoid Borin or anyone else looking for a laugh at his expense.
But as he browsed a stall selling old spellbooks, he heard a familiar voice.
"Well, well, look who decided to show up!"
Lennox sighed deeply. Borin. Of course.
"Come to buy your cat some yarn, Lennox?" Borin sneered, leaning against a crate. "Or maybe a little bell for its collar?"
Lennox turned to face him, forcing a tight smile. "You know, Borin, I'd love to stand here and trade insults, but unlike you, I have better things to do."
Borin's grin widened. "Better things? With that?" He pointed dramatically at the cat, who was now sitting atop a nearby barrel, licking its paw like it had no idea it was the center of attention.
Before Lennox could reply, the cat paused mid-lick, its ears twitching. It hopped down from the barrel and disappeared behind a stall.
"Where's it going?" Lennox muttered, hurrying after it.
What he found made his stomach drop. The cat had leapt onto a table piled high with baked goods and was batting at a tray of pastries. The baker, a burly man with flour in his beard, looked ready to explode.
"Hey! Get that mangy beast off my table!" he roared.
"I'm so sorry!" Lennox yelped, lunging for the cat. But before he could grab it, the cat flicked its tail, sending a puff of flour into the air. The baker sputtered, his face now ghostly white, while the cat leapt onto a nearby stall.
Lennox scrambled after it, apologizing to everyone in its path. The cat, of course, seemed to be having the time of its life, hopping from one stand to the next like it was an obstacle course. It finally landed in a stall selling spell scrolls, where it pawed at a roll of parchment that promptly unraveled and flew into the wind.
Lennox snatched the scroll out of the air, stuffing it back onto the table. "Would you stop causing chaos for five seconds?!"
The cat meowed innocently, then hopped off the stall and padded away as if nothing had happened.
The stall owner, an elderly woman with sharp eyes, raised an eyebrow at Lennox. "That cat of yours has a mischievous streak," she said, her tone amused.
"Mischievous?" Lennox repeated, his voice rising. "It's possessed!"
The woman chuckled and handed him the scroll. "Perhaps it's not as ordinary as it seems."
Lennox froze, her words echoing in his mind. Not as ordinary as it seems.
Before he could ask what she meant, the cat meowed again, standing at the edge of the market with its tail held high. Lennox sighed and jogged after it, muttering under his breath.
Back home, Lennox slumped into a chair, exhausted. The cat hopped onto the table and sat down, looking entirely too pleased with itself.
"You're a menace," Lennox said, pointing a finger at it. "An absolute menace. You're lucky I didn't leave you in the market."
The cat blinked at him, its expression unreadable. Then, with deliberate slowness, it reached out a paw and knocked the fruit bowl off the table.
Lennox stared at the scattered fruit, then at the cat, who looked positively smug.
"You're doing this on purpose," he said flatly. "Aren't you?"
The cat's only response was to start grooming itself, as if to say, What are you going to do about it?
Lennox buried his face in his hands. "This is my life now," he muttered. "Chasing after a destructive ball of fur."
And yet, as he watched the cat stretch luxuriously and settle into a nap, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than met the eye. But for now, he'd let it sleep—and maybe figure out how to keep it from destroying his sanity in the process.
The cat snored softly, its tail curling around its body, while Lennox eyed it warily. "I'm watching you," he muttered.
The cat twitched an ear in response, and Lennox swore he saw a flicker of amusement in its half-closed eyes.