Suddenly a resounding crash rang out from somewhere behind him. The sound made him jump and he quickly whipped his head around to see what it was that had caused the sound. It took him a moment to realize the source of the commotion, but lying broken among the snow-frosted cobbles was a glass bottle. Just behind it upon the ledge of the stone fountain at the center of the square were several more, all empty but for one which lay on its side, and from which a rivulet of amber liquid flowed out and down to form a half frozen puddle at the fountains base. Shards of glass were strewn across the cobbles around the shattered bottle, reflecting the sunset. And sitting in the midst of it all was a very smug looking cat.
He was a black as a starless night, with gleaming emerald eyes that held an unsettling degree of intelligence. It’s sleek black coat was unruffled, smoothed to such perfection that one might think he was a statue carved of obsidian if it were not for the very tip of it’s tail which waved back and forth tauntingly at the creature’s feet.
If there had been anyone else there to witness it they too would have noticed. How couldn’t one notice the way it sat there, almost unmoving, the unnatural perfection of it’s form, and the eyes! They were mocking and arrogant and cruel with a gleam of feral malice that was almost predatory. It’s stare was evil, and right now that stare was directed upon him.
Jerin shuddered violently and then wrenching his eyes away from the beast, he turned and began to walk once more, very shakily towards the castle. It was just a cat, a silly stray, it must have upset the bottles, probably left there by some drunkard earlier on. The rest was just his imagination gone wild. It was just a dimwitted animal after all, what harm could it do him?
Either way he couldn’t help but steal a glance behind him as he was exiting the market square, but it was gone. He paused again and glanced around the square in an attempt to glimpse the creature but found no sign. In the snow surrounding the fountain there were but a single set of footprints. They were his own. The shattered glass still lay where it had fallen but the snow among the shards was undisturbed, and the overturned bottle was empty now, however; there was no sign of the amber puddle that had previously gathered there but for a trickle of the stuff, frozen to the side of the fountain, that stretched downwards into the untarnished snow.
Jerin’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. For a heartbeat all rational thought ceased, and then a ragged wheeze escaped him. He turned then, very stiffly and continued on his way. This time he refused to look back.