Page 141

Story: The WitchSlayer

She smiled, appreciating that he often told her when he was leaving so she wouldn’t go searching for him when he wasn’t there.

And then he was gone, leaving her alone in his lair while she ate, bathed, and greeted the sun just as it was peaking over the horizon.

She sat close to the wall with her legs crossed, knowing if she sat in the middle, she would have to move out of his way when he returned. Amalia closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep into her skin as she saw the orange brightness behind her closed lids.

It wasn’t long before he returned.

She heard his wings swooping and could feel the rush of wind before he landed in the clearing. Rocks rolled and crushed into the dirt under his footstep before he walked over the stones of his lairstep, loudly huffing from his flight.

She didn’t open her eyes to see the dead cow hanging from his maw and the likelihood that he had a second in his paw.

Once she knew he was behind her, she opened her eyes again to look at the land and sky, watching the world grow brighter by the minute.

I am always taken aback by this view.

She knew she would have to wait for him to walk back past her with his food mess before she could go to the main room of his cave. She didn’t want to see him eating.

She also didn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t pleasant.

When the sun rose to the point it was barely touching her, the fleeting moment of sunshine gone, she was just about to get to her feet when something small walked into the clearing.

It was a cat, and it seemed to be searching for something. It sniffed the ground, scenting it before following a trail with its nose. It was walking in her very direction.

She frowned at its orange and black tortoiseshell coat and its white chest and cheeks. It looked very familiar, almost identical to an awful little cretin she loved.

That cat looks like Bala.

It sat in front of the ward and looked around at it with bright green eyes. No, it didn’t just looksimilarto her feral cat. It looked exactly the same.

“Bala?” She couldn’t help trying, missing that darn cat more than she was willing to admit.

It gave a soft meow, coming to where she was behind the ward and started rubbing its neck against it.

“Bala, it is you!” she almost squealed with excitement. “How did you find me?”

She didn’t think it was possible. Then again, she didn’t know how far she was from her old cottage.

He started scratching at the ward to get to her.

“I cannot let you in. I will have to ask the Dragon.”

But Amalia was afraid that if she walked away from the ward to get Rurik to let him inside, he would be gone.

He placed a paw on the ward. She wanted so badly to touch it, to grab his paw and play with his little toe beans like she used to.

“You are still such a fat cat.” She placed her fingers against the ward right where his paw was. “I am glad that you are well.”

Amalia frowned when his paw came through the ward, his claws extending to clutch around her index finger. He wouldn’t let go, and when she tried to pull her hand away, she ended up pulling him through the ward by accident.

Her shock that she managed to pull him through the ward didn’t last when she realised he couldn’t run away now. She gave a bright smile.

“Bala, I am so glad to see you!”

She scrambled to him and went to pick him up. That was until he started to grow, started tochange.

The multi-coloured fur on his back began to turn brown and look like cotton and a metal breastplate. He started to stand on his back legs as they began to look like leather soldier trousers before a silver chainmail skirt started to appear. Eventually, bright red hair started to grow from his head, long and tied back. His face and hands became more and more human.

Once the person finished transforming, on top of his head was a deflated looking cat who looked exactly like Bala, nothing about him solid except for his head – where it still appeared as though it had its skull.

Table of Contents