Miranda slipped inside her house and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Her head lolled back against the familiar wooden door, without watchers waiting to backstab or request political favor. Her eyelids sank closed, heavy with the tension of two weeks in her father’s court.
A perturbed ball of fur poked at her scales from where it tangled with her lower limbs. “Let me out, will you? I barely made it inside before you smooshed me in with the door.”
“Sorry,” she muttered, lifting a foreleg without opening her eyes. “You usually use the window. I forgot you’re in mini-kitty form.”
The spotted black and grey cat stretched until Greystone’s tail tickled her snout. “I hate compressed cat.”
“Better the court thinks you’re a harmless pet, rather than a snow leopard tracking their every move,” Miranda murmured. “It was only a fortnight. And now we’re safe at home, back on the farm.”
“Better the court thinks you’re a fluffy princess off on an irresponsible jaunt, rather than your father’s assassin held in reserve,” Greystone drawled with heavy sarcasm. “Now, to ask the important questions…Did you arrange for anyone to stock some fish?”
***
This week’s prompt came from Becky Jones, and I did not do it justice. Mine went to Padre, where a fluffy dog caught the guards’ attention. Check it and more out at MOTE!
