The autumn leaves swirled in a vibrant dance, mirroring the turmoil in Elicia's heart. Months had passed since Kaelen's departure, yet the emptiness he left behind remained a constant companion.
One crisp morning, finding herself staring at the miniature silver dragon pendant, a sudden, desperate longing overwhelmed her. She knelt beside Phaeton, who was grooming himself with an almost aggressive thoroughness. "Phaeton," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "if I left the Whispering Woods, do you think I could find him?"
Phaeton paused his meticulous grooming, his dichromatic eyes narrowing into slits. He stared at her with an expression that bordered on disbelief. A low growl rumbled in his chest, more a sound of frustrated exasperation than outright anger. His tail twitched, a silent, emphatic rejection of her question.
Elicia chuckled, a slightly shaky sound. "Oh, I know, I know. It's a silly idea, isn't it? But... I feel... stagnant. Like a plant without a sun." She stroked his silver fur, her fingers lingering on the soft down of his neck. "Perhaps a journey is overdue. Maybe I could make some new friends. And maybe," she added with a playful grin, "you could find yourself a more... agreeable companion than me."
Phaeton let out a disgruntled meow, a sound that Elicia interpreted as a resounding "no." He flicked his tail dismissively, returning to his grooming with a renewed vigor, his expression clearly communicating his opinion on her travel plans: utterly absurd. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Humans," before resuming his meticulous self-care.
Elicia straightened, a newfound resolve hardening her usually gentle features. "Phaeton." She declared, her voice firm despite a tremor of uncertainty "I've decided. I'm going." The words hung in the air, a declaration of independence, a break from the quiet solitude that had become both comfort and cage.
Phaeton, mid-groom, paused, his ears twitching. He let out a long, drawn-out meow, a sound that perfectly blended resignation with a healthy dose of grumpy disapproval. He knew better than to argue. Elicia's decision, once made, was rarely altered.
A flurry of activity filled the small cottage. Elicia moved with a surprising efficiency, her usual calm replaced by a focused energy. She rummaged through chests, pulling out herbs, bandages, and an assortment of curious tools. Her initial enthusiasm, however, soon devolved into a chaotic dance of indecision. She'd pick up a small vial of moonpetal extract, then frown, placing it back down. A sturdy walking stick was examined, then discarded in favor of a lighter, more ornate one. The process was a whirlwind of second-guessing, each item considered and reconsidered.
Before long, a pack larger than her slight frame could comfortably carry lay at her feet, overflowing with her carefully curated supplies. It threatened to topple over under its own weight.
Phaeton watched the whole spectacle with an air of weary amusement, his silver tail flicking rhythmically against the wooden floor. He let out a particularly pointed grumble, his eyes rolling skyward in a silent commentary on the sheer volume of her belongings.
Elicia, catching his expression, laughed, a bright, carefree sound that hadn't graced her lips in months. "All right, all right." she conceded. "Maybe I did overpack a little. Time for some ruthless editing!"
She began to methodically unpack, her earlier indecision replaced with a more pragmatic approach. The sight of her systematically reducing the mountain of supplies seemed to appease Phaeton somewhat. He still looked skeptical, however, and his grumbles remained a constant accompaniment to the flurry of Elicia's "editing".
With remarkable efficiency, Elicia whittled down her overflowing pack. Sentimental trinkets, extra layers of clothing, and even some of her more exotic herbs were ruthlessly discarded. Soon, only the essentials remained: a sturdy, yet manageable backpack holding a change of clothes, a smaller satchel for her most vital medical supplies and herbs, and a few carefully selected tools. Phaeton, observing the transformation of the monstrous pile into something more manageable, offered a subtle flick of his tail, a gesture that Elicia interpreted as grudging approval. He still looked unimpressed, but the distinct lack of audible grumbling spoke volumes.
Elicia slung the pack over her shoulders, testing its weight with a satisfied nod. "Right then, Phaeton." She said, turning to address her feline companion. A mischievous glint sparkled in her silver-blue eyes. "This journey might be... challenging. There might be times we go hungry." She paused for dramatic effect, her gaze fixed intently on Phaeton.
"When that happens, my fluffy friend," She points a finger up and smiles at Phaeton "I'll be relying on you to provide for us. Your exceptional fish-hunting skills will be essential."
Phaeton, however, was not impressed by this appeal to his hunting prowess. He regarded her with an expression of utter disdain, his ears flattened against his head. A low hiss escaped his mouth, a sound that clearly conveyed his feelings on the matter. He was a cat of refined taste and would not resort to catching fish for a human's survival.
Elicia burst into laughter, chasing away the lingering tension of their earlier preparations. "Oh, come on." She said. "I can cook something extremely delicious for you if you hunt for the fish."
Phaeton grumbled, a sound of both defiance and acceptance of the situation his mistress had pressed upon him. He flicked his tail and let out a low, almost grudging, meow.