I am hot, so very hot,
I burn in contrast to the night before, as the sun burns in contrast to the moon,
I wonder if I should stand on the surface of the sun, which of us will give warmth to the other,
The cat is still with me, having spent the night inside my thin coat and against my chest,
It hunts now, running ahead of me in search of mice for a morning meal,
I will keep the cat, if it wishes to stay,
I hope not to spend another night as I did the previous,
His stronghold is ahead, he owes me,
Perhaps he could give me one of the rooms built into the outer wall for cherished servants,
I follow the winding streets, willing myself to be inconspicuous,
Shopkeepers are setting out their wares,
They give me stern glances as I pass,
He stands at the gate of his stronghold, waiting, he had agents watching, always watching,
His stronghold is on the same street with a bakery,
My stomach rumbles at the smell of bread baking,
I get no greeting,
"What do you want?" he asks,
Perhaps a room against the wall, and someone to fetch bread, cheese, and meat,
"Should I ask who you are here for?"
"It is not you," I say,
He gives a nod in relief, "Not a room against the wall," he says. "One of the hidden rooms near the baths, you know where they are. And do make yourself available to the baths, I can smell every kingdom you passed through to get here."
"Thank you for your generosity,"
"Is that yours," he asks, nodding at the cat.
"Yes,"
"I'll have fish soup brought for it,"

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Wolfenshire, Moderator/Community Leader