The moon was low on the horizon, an uncaring silver witness. The streetlights danced in soft flickers, casting long, serpentine shadows on the wet pavement, whereby, curled beside the curb, a little still shape was lying. Fur that once had been golden and warm was now sopping wet, matted by rain and blood. One car whizzed past; the tenuous spread of its headlight beams danced across the lifeless form of a kitten, struck down by that cold, cruel world.

Death was there, as he had always been: silent, unseen by mortal eyes. Water clung to his long, tattered cloak, and the bony hands grasped the weight of the scythe as if it might have weighed no more than a feather. His hollow eyes, black pits beneath his hood, took in the scene—not with sorrow or regret, but with that practiced gaze of one who has done this work since the dawn of time.

There, curled up in a puddle, was the little body of a kitten. Its soul was a bright, transparent image of the weak form that lay beside it. The kitten's spirit twisted in perplexity, wide-eyed, quaking in the light, its paws clawing the air against an unseen wall, for to its feeling there was no bottom to them. A faint mew escaped as it circled, peering for some familiar thing.

Death watched a moment longer. So many souls he had seen pass—kings and queens, humans and beasts. Some grasped it in an instant, others took some time longer. Never a question of "if,"  only "when.".

On his knees, the scythe lay beside him; he spoke in that soft voice he had cultivated over the millennia.

"Hello, little one," he whispered softly, the tone unruffled, like an airy wind blowing far away. The kitten froze and turned its glowing big eyes toward him. "I'm here to help you. Don't be afraid."

The little creature hunched itself back in a crouch on its haunches, eyes blinking at him, small body still ripples of incomprehension. "Wh-who. Who are you?" it stammered, voice tiny and shaking. "Wh-where am I? Why can't I? Why can't I feel my body?"

Death reached out an arm; his skeletal fingers were as evident as ever, yet even that did nothing to faze this kitten. He'd seen that look before—the acknowledgment of a being beyond comprehension, yet a strange sense of comfort in it. He stroked his cold fingers over the ghostly fur; the creature relaxed a little.

"You have passed from the world of the living," he said, his tone as level and soothing as one could imagine. "Your body is no longer a part of that world. But you—your soul—are. That is what I am here for—to take you to where you are supposed to go next."

The kitten simply blinked again, cocking its head. "Passed? I don't… I don't understand. What happened? I was… I was just playing, and then... There was a loud noise, and everything hurt. And then… nothing."

Death leaned back and stroked the head as tenderly as any mother. "It's alright to be disoriented. You were playing beside a road and a car—a large machine that people use to get about—struck you. In the flicker of an eyelash. Your body could not keep going anymore." He nodded tenderly toward the kitten's body curled in the gutter. "That part of your journey is over. But this part—the part where you go to a place of peace—now begins."

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The attention was brought back to its body then; its ears flattened against their head. The kitten said nothing for a great while, digesting the vision. Then it looked up at Death, shining with a question in their eyes. "So… I'm not going back? I can't… wake up."

"No," Death whispered softly, "you can't go back. But that doesn't mean your story has an end. You have a new place to go, where you are going to be happy. No more pain, no fear; you will never be alone."

The kitten's tail twitched. "A place where I can still play?"

Death beamed. "How would you like to go to a place with warm sunlight and endless fields to run around in, where you can chase birds and butterflies as much as you like? You can do anything you like and never be afraid again."

The ears of the cat perked up a little. "That sounds... nice. But... what if I don't know the way? What if I get lost?"

"That's why I'm here," said Death. He reached down and gathered the kitten up in his arms, cradling the little, weightless soul against his chest. "I'll take you there," he said. "You won't get lost. I'll make sure you're safe the whole way."

The kitten cuddled right up to him, the glowing of its body pressed deep into the weave of his cloak. "You're really nice," it whispered. "I thought you'd be... scarier."

Death tittered—a tiny, soft sound, less loud than the faintest rustle of the wind through a graveyard. "Many do, at first," he said. "But I am not here to frighten anyone. I'm here to help. Part of the trip, that's all. The part everyone has to take sooner or later."

The little cat looked up at him inquiringly, yet less afraid, "Do you help many people?

"I do," said Death. "I help everybody. All of the living things in the world die sooner or later, and I go with them on their journey so they are never alone."

The kitten purred a soft, otherworldly sound. "I like that. I don't want to be all alone."

"You won't be," Death said. "Not where you're going. There are others there waiting for you."

Kneading with quick, small paws on the cloth of his cloak as it had to a blanket before sleep, it asked, "Will they play with me?"

"Of course," Death rose. The world about them began to blur—the wet street, the hum of the city off in the distance—it all was washed away, like mist in the morning sun. The air warmed, the ground softer at his feet, as he stepped forward, carrying the kitten into a place that was neither here nor there—but something in between. Before them was a soft light, warm, golden. The kitten got to their feet again and looked over Death's arm. Wonder in its eyes. "What's that?".

"That's where you're going," Death said, his form inching closer to the light. "It's where all souls find peace. A place where you'll be safe and happy forever."

The kitten struggled and twisted in his arms, excited now. "It's so bright! It looks warm!"

"It is," said Death. He knelt again as they came to the edge of the light and set the kitten down softly on the shining, gentle ground. "This is your place, little one."

The little kitten turned to him, their tail flicking in the air. "You're not coming along with me?"

"No," Death said, "this is your part of the journey. But you will be alright. You will feel happy there. You will never be lonely again." The kitten opened and closed its eyes, then took another step toward the light. The kitten made its trembling footsteps, stopping to glance back at him. "Thank you for helping me," it said in a soft yet serious voice. "You are welcome," he replied, "now go. Enjoy the peace awaiting you." It was a leap forward, once more a backward glance, then the kitty vanished into the light. The small figure shimmered, brightened for a flash, and went, leaving heat. Death hovered on the edge of the light for a moment, peering at the spot where the kitten vanished. His chest didn't ache, nor did his throat catch in his throat. He didn't feel the way others did. Yet, with a decision, he knew the kitten was at peace, and that was enough. Death shivered his cloak and turned away from the light, picking up his scythe once more. The street reappeared around him, now empty except for the soft drizzle of rain. He cast one last look back at the small corpse of the kitten before he was gone into the night, leaving behind only a soft memory of a soul that would never stop purring.