I can only turn my head away in shame. Sure, obviously I can't see my friend, but I know that they can see me, and even if my understanding of what 'seeing' is happens to be pretty limited, I can still somehow feel their angry gaze.

"When's the last time you've eaten?" he asks in an accusatory tone which catches me off guard.

"Um... yesterday?" I reply. That sounds sort of right, but in all honestly, I can't swear to it. I've always had difficulty keeping proper track of the time. I should probably eat more often. Definitely, in fact, but it's hard to work up the will to request food from others. Not because they're likely to refuse. Quite the opposite, in fact.

A long sigh from him. I've heard quite a few of them before, many of which where the exact same sound, length and tone, but somehow this one sounds just a little more disappointed. I know, I'm no fool, and I understand that all of them were disappointed to some extent, but only this one really hurt.

"You're really terrible at this. You know that, right?"

"I know..." I say, although I'm not entirely sure of what he's specifically referring to. There are just so many valid possibilities, and I can't really criticize any of them. "It's just that..."

"Shut up." he grumbles. "You know, you've got one job, to be food, so can you explain exactly why it is that I'm having to feed you?"

I shrink down further, if that's even possible. "I guess I just lose track of the time and forget sometimes." I answer, which is true. While far from rich, starvation isn't an issue in the city, even if going out to get food can be something of an ordeal. The shopkeepers, of course, don't make a big deal of it, but there's the constant sensation of taking, being useless. Some days it's easier than others, and other days it's easier to just sit at home with a bit of hunger feeling significantly easier to endure. "You didn't have to feed me anyways. I just got a little dizzy, I was fine."

"Like hell I didn't." he growls, making me flinch. As we speak, I sit on the ground tearing away little bits of some manner of discarded pastry, and eating it in large bites. It's quite good, I must admit, soft and fluffy and quite flavorful. It's hard to really enjoy it, given the situation, however.

"Um... are you going to have some?" I ask.

"I don't eat food off of the ground."

I force a smile. "What about me? I'm on the ground." I can almost sense his eyes narrow at the weak effort to lighten the mood, which has clearly failed miserably. I eat a little more in silence.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asks.

"Well, I don't really know where 'here' is... and I think I already told you." I say, my voice sounding smaller than ever.

"What, you mean that nonsense about how it doesn't matter if you die?" he says with a soft grumble in his throat. "I don't understand you at all. Okay, I get that you're blind, but lots of creatures are. I've known plenty of old cats who lost their sight, and yeah, maybe it's a bit different if you're born blind, but there's got to be more to it than that. Is your life really so hard that you look forward to being killed and eaten?" he asks. "Seriously, is it? I honestly don't know much about you creatures or how you live, so you'll have to tell me outright."

"No. If anything, it's too easy. For me, at least. When I fall, there's always someone to help me up. When I fail at something, people don't yell or get mad, they just understand. When I'm hungry, there's always someone to offer me food..." the last part especially stings, given the current circumstance. "I'm just there. I'm not improving peoples lives, I'm just making them a little bit harder. Taking a few more resources, making people around me work a little harder, making them a little more sad. It's just a little bit, not a big deal, right? But it's every day, and even if they forget the minor inconveniences, I don't. I don't forget any of them. I count up the extra time that others would have if I weren't around. The extra happiness they'd have if I weren't around. The extra... everything they would have if I weren't around, and well... now I'm not around anymore! Now, not only am I not burdening them anymore, but I'm actually going to contribute a little something to this world, even if it's just a single meal! And sure, that might not be much but it's something, right?"

"You're hopeless." the cat replies, "I've cornered mice before, and I thought that it was pathetic when they begged and pleaded and struggled in vain, but that's nothing compared to you. You're acting like there's nothing you can do, and you can't be of any value to anyone, but that's a lie and you know it. There's lots of stuff that you can do, but you just want to focus on the things that you can't." he growls a little deeper, head leaning in closer. "You say that you don't like how things are too easy, and yet you're taking the easy way out. The easy route of just accepting that everything is hopeless and impossible because that means you don't have to try, because trying is hard. It's often unrewarding and painful and humiliating. It's easier to just dismiss your life as some failed experiment, let it end and figure that someone else will come along and continue things properly, but you know what? That won't happen. Because, for all your ridiculous talk, there's only one you, and when it's gone, it's gone forever, and nothing can ever truly replace it."

I frown, the lecture considerably more frightening than the prospect of being devoured. I don't have much to say. What can I say? I know that I'm too weak, on multiple levels. I know that I'm a coward. I know that plenty of mice out there have it far worse than me, and have done far more with it, but that doesn't make things easier. Instead, it makes things so much harder. Still, I have to say something, don't I?

"Why do you care?" I meekly ask.

"Ugh, again with the 'whys'."

"Just answer me. You can't pretend that it's some instinct or whim. You're planning to eat me, right? What does it matter if your next meal is happy or sad? All that matters is that you get fed." I chuckle, despite feeling no real joy. "If you spend that much time thinking about every meal, you'll never get anything done, so why wait?"

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

A heavy paw slams down beside me, knocking me from my feet. That's when I feel the hot breath on the back of my neck and brace myself for the end. Instead of teeth digging into my flesh, however, I'm roughly lifted. I let out a surprised squeak, having little sense of direction, carefully gripping my instrument so as to not drop it.

"H-hey, if you're going to carry me, can't I just ride on your back?" I ask. Considering that his mouth is full, it's hardly a surprise that he doesn't respond. The journey isn't a long one before I'm dropped from an uncomfortable height onto my rear. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Be quiet." He says. "We're here."

"Huh? Where is here?" I say, feeling around. All around me is paved earth, while feels no different from all of the other bits of paved earth.

"The bridge." he simply says.

I freeze, rising up onto my feet. I listen, hearing the usual blowing wind and distant vehicles. I smell, taking in maybe a little more salt scent, but nothing significant. The air is cool and crisp against my fur. Still, I can't help but feel just a little bit disappointed. Honestly, though, I'm not sure what I had expected.

"Oh, we're on the bridge now? It, um... kind of feels like everywhere else. It makes sense when you think about it, but-"

"Shut up." he growls. "And listen."

I frown and perk up my ears. The usual wind, cars, occasional horns, cries of birds. Nothing out of the ordinary. Wait, I think to myself. That's not the wind, is it? The wind is there, of course. It's always making just a little bit of sound, even on the most still of days, but there was something... beneath it, somehow? It felt similar to the wind, but strangely heavier. A little bit like the trips through the grass, when the oversized stalks bent and slapped against one another. In a similar sense, I could hear the waves. Tiny things, individually, but each collapses into another and another, stretching on seemingly forever. How did I not notice it before? It feels both far away and right next to me at once, and I taste it in the air. Not just the salt, but the sea itself.

"It starts narrow, but quickly stretches out until it seems to take up everything." the cat says, sitting down next to me. "At a certain point, you can barely tell where the water ends and the sky begins. Along each bank are countless tiny stones, and go further and it breaks down into sand so fine that even with your small hands you'd struggle to grasp it between your fingers."

"What are you-"

"Quiet!" he snarls. "It takes a lot of concentration to come up with ways to describe it that you'll understand. Now, where was I... oh, yeah. They aren't near the bridge, there's just a somewhat narrow stream below us, but further out? There are dozens of small ships. I guess you don't know what those are, do you?" he says, his voice calming. "Well, they're sort of like cars that work on the water, but, well... better. They don't scream as they go, or belch out vile fumes, instead they just sort of... drift. The water moves about them, carrying them forward. Then there's the sun... well, I'm sure even you know what the sun is like, but it's something all together different on the sea. It makes every little wave shimmer and shine the brightest colors." he pauses, clearing his throat. "Oh, um, sorry, I know that you don't get colors."

"Heh, that's okay." I say, unsure of whether I'm feeling terribly happy or terribly sad right now. "Can you tell me more about the boats?"

"Sure." he pauses, thinking. "Sure. Well, they use the wind, too. The old fashioned ones, at least, but those are my favorite. You know, our kind doesn't have the same fascination that yours does when it comes to humans. We see most of their machines as being similar to cars: loud, intrusive and dangerous, but every once in a while? Every once in a while they get things right. They manage something really impressive, really beautiful." a soft sigh, a rare contented one from the creature. "Looks like I got off track. I'm afraid I'm not very good at describing stuff, anyways."

"No. No, you did great." I say, smiling, having made the decision. "Thank you."

"Well, you wanted to be taken to the bridge before I ate you, right? And here you are."

"Heh, yeah, here I am. Does that mean that it's time?" I ask.

"That's up to you. Live or die, it's your choice."

I freeze. "I... I can't. I have no right to. I'm your property, right? Your food? It's not my place to decide."

"Well, too bad. I'm ordering you to choose." he says. "As for me, well, regardless of what you decide, I'll do whatever I want to do, as always. Now, answer: Live or die."

"I... I don't know." I say, a sense of genuine panic setting in. "It's too much. I don't really have any future, at least not one that I can properly endure. So many more days, so many more failures and disappointments, I don't know if I can handle it."

"Forget about days or lifetimes." he growls. "Five minutes. You said before that you live life in five minute intervals, always betting that the next one won't be the last. Don't decide if you want to live to a ripe old age, or even until the end of the day. Just think of the next five minutes, and whether you want it to be your last."

"I..." I sigh. "I want to keep going. At least another five minutes." I pause. "You know... if you'll let me."

"Heh. Not much, but it's a start." the creature says, crouching down next to me. "Now, get back up. You've caused me enough headaches for one day."

I hesitate for a just a moment before climbing back up the fur, finding myself a proper spot on his back, just beneath shoulders.

"Yeah... yeah, you're right. Even if I can't be strong for my own sake, I have to be for others. Even if I can't do much positive, or anything really, the least I can do is avoid putting a burden on others." I sniffle, pause for a moment and smile. "Heh, I must have been pretty pathetic if even you were feeling bad for me."

"Yup. It was a pretty sad sight." the cat nods.

I feel a flush of embarrassment. "H-hey, you're supposed to tell me 'it wasn't that bad', and that it was no big deal!"

"Sorry, I'm not quite that nice. Still, I hate to see a person give up, whether they're a friend or food." he says.

"...or both?" I ask, hopefully.

"Don't push your luck." it says in it's deep, calming voice. "So, ready to see where the next five minutes take you?"

"Heh, yeah. Then I guess we'll see where it goes, or doesn't go from there. I've had enough depression for one day." I say, and genuinely mean it. Things aren't perfect, of course, or really even any better. I still could die at any moment and I'm still willing to accept it. Life is long, and the experience as a whole is a very tiring one, but this moment? This day? It's a good one, and all of the other bad moments or bad days, past or potential future, have no right to spoil it.

"Good." He says. There's a pause where he seems to be considering saying something more, but cannot quite find the right words. "You know, I didn't do this for your sake. You're just a mouse and just prey, but it's like I said before: I don't like to see a person giving up. You have to keep fighting... you owe it to me. You don't need to run, you don't need to lash out, and you don't need to cry and beg when the time comes. You just need to keep fighting in your own way, just like you have been doing all this time. I'm not going to tell you this again."

"Yeah." I say, turning my head towards the sea as I feel the slight change in ground texture beneath the feline feet, telling me that we've moved beyond the bridge at last. "Don't worry, you won't have to."