27. COUNTDOWN OF CHAOS

Mibbet watched the hyperactivity induced, hissy, havoc with a sympathetic wince. What was it about humans and making mind-altering substances that left the user absolutely knackered after use? As they watched, the cat thing charged around the place like decapitated poultry. Mibbet remembered her first experience with coffee. Silently in her head (with Rosalind’s help, of course, since Mibbet was somewhat terrible at maths.) She began the countdown.

10...... *crash* there went the gazebo, and that cat was going to be in for one hell of a headache.

9........ Oooft they just hit the pond, with a sizzle, they tried to stop, but apparently muddy ground plus a half tonne of rampaging infernal furball did not have very good brakes. It seemed that hell-cats still did not particularly appreciate water, as it vaulted ten feet clear, yowled, and hissed with an indignant fury that was truly peerless, and sped up again.

8.......... Well there’s now another hole in the hedge maze, the gardeners were not going to be chuffed after all this.

7.......... Ouch, assuming they don’t quit anyway, one holding the stump of a pitchfork just dove into the ornamental fountain to escape the cat’s wrath.

6......... Finally starting to slow down a little, Mibbet winced in sympathy, they were going to be so sore in the morning.

5........ At long last, they calmed enough to slow to a walk, reach up the castle walls and claw at the heavily overgrown ivy, well...... for all of ten seconds, till it burned off, (cat people will know this moment as the eye of the storm.)

4....... Oooops, spoke too soon, with a weird head twitch they’re off again, thoroughly burning bridges (literally the decorative, wooden bridge caught light as they sprinted over it at the speed of zoom.)

3...... Well, whoever was playing that giant chess game, she really hoped they remembered their last move and the positions of the pieces since she somehow suspected that flattening the game with the giant cat was not a valid move.

2. They’re climbing the tree, and of course, the tree is now alight. *Crash,* there it goes.

1. CRASH, whatever it was made them like that’s worn off. She really felt sorry for the gardeners as she surveyed the war zone that was left; how could one little prick (with a pitchfork) cause so much chaos?

Well, she knew that whatever was going on, this was a big beast and would need to be appeased, lest it wake and feast. After all, frog or not, she was still made of meat and had no desire to become a tasty treat. No, not in the least. Her kind had plenty of experience with cats. Most kittens learn very quickly that frogs do not taste good, but being viciously chewed up and spat out was an experience one did not forget in a hurry.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

So while the massive moggy was asleep, she dashed into the kitchen (or rather got a maid to, not even a royal would be foolish enough to confront a chef in their own lair.) Ordering a massive bowl loaded up with unspiced meat that may once have glanced at a frying pan with a longing sigh. Due to the size of this particular cat, and after seeing what it could do, she had zero desire to test the edibility of her newfound limbs. A second bowl was filled with water to the brim, then carefully carried out.

She considered simply finishing it off, but it was only asleep, and one does not wake a sleeping cat unless a mauling is something your heart truly desires. Mibbet held no such wishes and figured appeasement was somewhat less troublesome, and thankfully the guards did not take much convincing of this fact. They were still alive for a reason, and that reason was largely that they knew not to go around poking at deadly creatures, (or humans, for that matter). So they settled for gathering a large number of the biggest shields, and forming a perimeter. Carefully selecting to stay back from the slumbering menace, as they were still wrapped in a large amount of metal armour, which tended to get uncomfortably hot on a warm summer afternoon, let alone any day when hell fire was involved. Nobody wants their funeral to involve an impersonation of a foiled jacket potato.

Luckily, by the time they came back, the ferocious, fiery feline was still fast asleep, but Mibbet decided to wait, as waking it seemed like the worst idea ever.

Rascal eventually stirred with an irate mrrrfllleee. Why was it so bright out here? Also, why did everything ache? As his vision returned, he eventually noticed a big bowl of food........... oh yeah and a human, but the latter was a background note, most importantly food. He was so hungry he didn’t even bother turning his nose up, and after tasting it, he was extremely glad of that. The royal kitchens played for keeps, after all.

As he ate, the human slid a big bowl of water in next to him; at least this human knew their place, he thought approvingly. He didn’t see any big boxes they planned to shove him into. Oh yes, this would do, happy grass, food and water whenever needed, and good food at that. Souls were good, but they weren’t exactly the most filling meal, and nightmaries were apparently a sometimes food. Better still, nobody had given him any commands, so he didn’t even have to put forth the effort to ignore them. Though he did have to figure out a few things, like where to trick them into thinking they’d trained him to use as a poop box, and he needed a new bed, he could ignore in favour of sleeping wherever the (not) hell he damned, well pleased. But they seemed smart enough, and with a little training and a few well-placed “presents,” they would soon make for first-class servants.

*************************************************************************

Meanwhile, in hell, the Arch Demon Berk eyed the latest development in their mission via a scrying pool. “Oh well,” he said with a chuckle. “Oi did warn them, oi almost feel sorry for the next assassin they send after ‘er now. It’s noice that little Rascal found a new ‘ome. Still, this is going to mean so much paperwork.”

There had in the past been countless desperate attempts to rehome the hell-cat; each one had ended in failure. Even hell had rules, and it quickly became apparent that cats did not. Berk was reluctant to admit it, him being very much a dog demon, but he was going to miss that vicious little bastard.