The Cat

My first delivery was to the old couple just down the street who needed a healing salve for their backs. My interaction with them was mercifully brief, and soon I was heading off further away from the shop into the great streets of Istalfax.

As always, the city was bustling with activity. Humans and elves and dwarves all walked the streets, past the various vendors hawking dubious wares. Here and there one would pass an adventurer, carrying some weapon or decked out in some elaborate armor or outfit, each one proudly displaying their official Guild Badge.

The Adventurer's Guild transcended nationality and operated on a world-wide scale. Its members were the vanguard of civilization, protecting the people from all sorts of monsters, and delving into caverns and ancient ruins to defeat old evils and procure long-forgotten riches. The most successful adventurers caught the eyes of minstrels and poets, who composed ballads and epics about their great deeds, sold and performed for a reasonable fee, of course.

No matter how you sliced it, the adventurer was practically a mythologized figure. They emerged from all walks of life, representing an implicit promise that, no matter where you came from, you too could live of life of fame, fortune, and thrilling danger.

Gods above, I couldn't stand the arrogant bastards.

Turning a corner, I left the main street and began heading down a much less crowded path. With only a few other pedestrians, I could allow myself to relax and stroll down the road at my own pace, pushing the cart in front of me and enjoying the relative peacefulness of this particular stretch of the city.

Sometimes I wished for a way out of my life as a shopkeeper. The truth was, I really wasn't cut out for it. But any chance I had of escaping that life, I had long-since squandered. At nineteen years, I was too old for apprenticeships, which meant my only other avenues of escape were soldiering and adventuring, and frankly I wasn't wild about career paths with such high mortality rates.

That meant I really only had one option, and it was an option I hated: accept my lot in life, be quiet, and try to get through it all as painlessly as possible. It meant I was going to be bored and tired and frustrated for the rest of my days, and that wasn't a prospect I really looked forward to; but it was the only one I had.

I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts by a loud and shrill mewling sound. Blinking, I looked around for the source of the hellish noise, and saw a bit of movement in the nearby alley. Stepping closer, I realized the obvious: it was a cat.

The cat's paws were tangled up in a thin rope that someone had tossed out carelessly into the gutter. How the cat had managed to tangle itself up so badly, I couldn't say. Maybe it had been chasing a mouse or something and the little rodent ran into the rope bundle. However it had ended up in this situation, though, it was clear that the cat desperately wanted out of it.

I looked around to see if anyone else was planning to help the little furball, but unfortunately it looked like no one was. Damn. People are so selfish these days; now I'm going to have to do it.

Parking the cart at the mouth of the alley, I stepped away from it and knelt down next to the hapless kitty cat. It tried to shrink away from me as I approached, but the rope tangles tripped it up and it fell pathetically to the ground.

"Shush," I said softly as I reached out to the cat. Gently, I grabbed its back and pulled it towards me. It struggled, hissing impotently, as I held it near me. Then I reached to my belt and pulled out my knife. It was for protection against muggers and the like, carried at my mother's insistence, but given that I only ever made deliveries during the day I'd never actually had to draw it before now.

"It's ok," I whispered, hoping to soothe the frightened animal as I worked with the knife and cut away the ropes.

As soon as it could, the cat leaped from my arms and the remains of the rope, and stood a few feet away from me, staring directly. I wondered if that stare was the cat way of saying "thanks," or if it was just confused at my help. After a minute or so of the silent staring, the cat bent its head, almost as if it was nodding at me, and then hurried away down the alley.

I watched it go, smiling, then stood and sheathed my knife. Nobody had bothered me or my cart as I was helping the cat, though I saw one or two people who had stopped to watch me. They quickly looked away and went back to whatever their business was once I realized I was done helping the cat.

Taking the cart again, I set off returning to my delivery run. I admit, I was in a bit of a better mood after helping out that cat. It didn't even scratch me; which was a nice bonus.