In the gas-lamp-lit park, if one listened closely, they could hear the faint sound of rustling. Not from footsteps disturbing fallen leaves, but from the bushes.
It came in brief bursts—here one moment, gone the next—as though something small was weaving through the undergrowth. The leaves trembled, then fell still. A heartbeat later, another hedge quivered farther down the path.
It wasn't moving at the leisurely pace of some wandering animal.
Whatever it was, it was panicked.
Tiny paws carried a field mouse over tangled roots and through brittle ferns. Its chest heaved with every frantic breath as it darted from one bush to another, never daring to look behind. Instinct urged it onward—faster. Anywhere but here.
The bushes behind it parted once more.
A predator, black as the night itself, glided through the darkness.
There was no reckless sprint. No crashing through branches.
Only patience.
The distance between hunter and prey shrank with every heartbeat.
The mouse burst from the final patch of shrubbery into the open grass.
For one fleeting instant, it thought it had escaped.
A dark blur shot across the moonlit lawn.
The rustling ceased.
The park returned to silence, as though nothing had happened.
...
Valo emerged from the bushes a moment later, his tail held high. Hanging gently from his jaws was a plump brown field mouse.
Great catch today!
The thought alone was enough to make his whiskers twitch with satisfaction.
He stepped onto the cobblestone path, careful not to dirty his paws with the damp soil clinging to the grass. There was no rush to get home. Nights like these were far too pleasant to waste.
The warm glow of the old gas lamps painted pools of amber across the winding paths. Their light reflected off the dew gathering on fallen maple leaves, making them shimmer like tiny pieces of copper. Above, the sky stretched endlessly overhead, dotted with stars that only managed to outshine the city lights this late into the evening.
A gentle breeze drifted inland from the sea, cooling the warmth that lingered in Valo's fur after the hunt.
He inhaled deeply.
The air smelled of salt, wet earth, and autumn.
Perfect.
Valo had always appreciated the little things in life.
A warm patch of sunlight on a lazy afternoon.
The satisfying stretch after a good nap.
Fresh fish.
The sound of rain against rooftops while curled beneath shelter.
And, every now and then, a successful hunt.
Life was full of simple pleasures, and there was no point hurrying through them.
His pace slowed even further as he wandered along the familiar streets.
The city had been his entire world for as long as he could remember.
Every alley held memories.
Every rooftop offered a different view.
Every fence, chimney, and windowsill had served as either a shortcut or a resting place at least once.
He could navigate the district with his eyes closed if he had to.
Naturally, he also knew exactly where the best sunbathing spots were. The roof of the shack behind the bakery was wonderful during spring mornings, but nothing beat the wooden piers by the harbor once summer arrived.
His ears perked as another gust carried the scent of the ocean.
Ships.
Even without seeing them, he knew they were there beyond the rows of buildings.
Sometimes, when the harbor grew quiet, Valo would sit atop the warehouse roofs and watch enormous merchant vessels disappear beyond the horizon.
He often wondered what lay beyond it.
Did every city smell different?
Were there fish larger than gulls?
Did cats on distant shores bask in warmer sunlight?
He had never left this city.
Not because he couldn't.
Simply because he never had a reason to.
Maybe one day.
Maybe.
His thoughts drifted elsewhere as they often did during peaceful walks.
A pleasant memory surfaced.
It had started nearly two years ago.
Valo had wandered through the bustling marketplace, lured by the overwhelming scent of fresh fish. Vendors shouted over one another while customers haggled loudly, making enough noise to scare away less confident strays.
Valo hadn't minded.
He'd simply sat near one stall and watched.
The woman running it had laughed.
"Patient little fellow, aren't you?"
Moments later, she'd tossed him a small herring.
Fresh.
Delicious.
From then on, visiting her became part of his routine.
Whenever hunger wasn't urgent, he'd stop by simply to say hello.
She would always pretend not to notice him at first.
"Oh dear," she'd say dramatically while arranging today's catch. "I wonder where my quality inspector is."
Valo would meow.
She'd laugh.
Then, as though it had been inevitable all along, another fish would find its way into his paws.
Sometimes he stayed after finishing his meal.
Not because he expected another.
Just because the old woman seemed to enjoy talking.
She would tell him about customers who tried to bargain too much, about the weather, or about her aching back after long days at the market. Valo, naturally, replied only with slow blinks and the occasional flick of his tail.
It seemed enough.
Humans were strange creatures.
Many chased cats away.
Some ignored them entirely.
Yet others scratched behind their ears, offered warm food, or spoke to them as though they expected an answer.
Valo had decided long ago that humans, much like cats, couldn't all be judged the same.
Unfortunately...
Last week, the familiar stall had looked different.
The old woman hadn't been there.
Instead, a younger woman had stood behind the counter, arranging fish with practiced hands.
She had noticed Valo almost immediately.
"So you're the cat Grandma kept talking about."
Before he knew it, a small fish landed in front of him.
She'd even scratched gently behind his ear.
But...
It wasn't quite the same.
The laughter was different.
The scent was different.
And despite waiting longer than usual, the old woman never appeared.
Valo hadn't understood why.
Eventually, he'd wandered off, figuring she was simply taking the day off.
Humans disappeared for a day or two all the time.
Surely she'd be back soon.