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Just as she sat down to return to her warm tea, something whined horrifically. It whined and screamed with demanding, unyielding calls. It grew impatient and louder with every second she didn’t pay it any attention, stealing the peace she’d found within the angry storm.

Getting back to her feet, she went to the front of her cottage and ripped open the door.

“Stop that infernal racket, you annoying old sod!” The whining didn’t stop as she stared down. “It is not my fault you got caught in the rain. I thought you creatures were able to sense this sort of thing. Or are you just dull-witted?”

The noise finally calmed as bright green eyes stared back at her, and a sopping wet tail tapped the floor. Bala tilted his head down and picked something up with his teeth.

“That had best not be another dead rat,” she threatened while moving out of the way to allow him inside.

They eyed each other as he pranced in like a royal prince, his head and tail high as he moved around slowly. She couldn’t see what he had in his mouth, but she knew she wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

It would either be a gift for her or his dinner.

“I will find a towel and dry you. You better not make a mess while I find one, handsome!”

Bala was, indeed, quite the handsome cat.

She didn’t know what breed he was, but he was so fluffy that she’d mistakenly thought he was a fat pig of a cat at first. She’d shooed him away because she thought he was just a house cat wanting extra food.

It hadn’t taken her long to realise he was homeless.

With a chest and cheeks of white, the rest of his coat was tortoiseshell with bright orange and red mixed in with the flecks of black that covered him. Bala hated children and was irritable on the best of days. She assumed this was why he was homeless.

All that pretty fur hid the cat’s true, feral nature – except with her. Well, most days with her.Definitely not at bath time.

It didn’t take long to find him a towel. She turned around and immediately yelled when she realised he’d hopped onto her bed sopping wet. He started pawing at the prey he had. She knew he only did that when he intended to eat what he found since he often liked to play with it at first.

“Oh no you will not! I will not have another bloody massacre on my bed.”

She picked him up and tossed him. Every time she tossed him like this, he stared up at her like he was dumbfounded at the fact that she did as he was a very expressive cat.

Amalia didn’t mind the circle of life; she just didn’t want it messing up her home.

Kneeling down, she started forcefully rubbing the towel over the cat’s fluffy fur, hoping to dry him as much as possible. He raised his head like he was enjoying the rub down with obvious happiness.

“Why were you out in the storm, Bala?”

She wasn’t expecting an answer.

The townsfolk often called her a crazy spinster when they saw her talking to him or any of the animals she passed in the street. His feline head turned towards the bed, almost like he understood her.

“You cannot tell me you wanted food. I feed you so much every day that I have turned you into a spoiled, rotten, little stray.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to yawn, but then licked across his long whiskers instead.

With a roll of her eyes, she stood with the intention of picking up his prey and discarding it onto the floor for him to do what he would with it.

So, what is it this time? A bird, a rat, possibly another cat?

It wouldn’t be the first time he brought something the size of himself into her home.

She tilted her head when she stood in front of it, and a frown began crinkling her brow.

What the... A lizard?

No, it wasn’t a lizard. Well, maybe it was, but she’d never seen this kind before. She scooped it into both of her hands since it was too large to fit into just one.

It has wings?