His boots raised little clouds of dust as he walked. The sky had been the eerie grey-black of thunderstorms mere moments before. It had menaced the area as it passed, striking out at a lone tree down the rutted, uneven dirt road. The flash and strike had been instant, and now he could hear the tree split like a whip in the distance. Once, twice. He reached out a long arm as far as it would stretch and expertly folded the brim of his oversized leather hat. It was now triangular at the front and round at the back, with sweeping horns.

He readjusted the sleeve of his duster with a flourish and wiped the sweat from his eyes. It was humid, and the sudden attention of the sun was like that of a lover; rising the color in his face and making him feel all too hot. The pilgrim stopped and opened up his leather duster, shivering as the summer breeze ran over his bare chest. He loosened the straps of his pack and tucked the coat under them before cinching them back down. All the while he watched the storm wheedle as it moved.

Everything he wore was as versatile as the finest set of knives. From his hat to his boots, his clothes were tools, cutting efficiently through the troubles of daily life on the road. He started again, his eyes on the road ahead, one foot in front of the other. He could see a cat just up the road. It looked up at the tree and over at him. He passed to the other side of the road and approached the cat slowly, and as far away from it as he could get while still staying on the road.

Stolen story; please report.

As he approached, the cat sat, licked a paw and shook it. It meowed and made a trilling-purr of greeting in its throat. He squated, knees bent and arms between his legs. He reached out a hand and the cat trilled again and approached, just out of reach, and sniffed at his hand. The cat rubbed on his fingers and came close enough where he could pet at its ears and head. The cat closed its eyes at the attention, purring loud. It sat and groomed itself, looking at him like cats are wont to do. Lazy, nonchalant, unconcerned.

Then it said to him "Does the pilgrim not stand still?"

He replied "Stand still we must, like yonder tree."

The tree, already split in two, looked like it would topple with a wind.

"Time doesn't pass, everything stays the same, and there are many pilgrims on my path." He said.

"Time doesn't pass, and pass by we shall never do." replied the cat. Then it eyed him and said "Troublesome and dangerous your kind are, flourish you must by that regard."

"By tooth and claw, what enemies could we have, who are wicked as beast and strive to be faithless?"

The cat snorted and sneezed, the bell on its collar moved clearly with the motion but it didn't ring. Not a single time. "The faithful and their magic, holy in every regard."

"Indeed, and my people benefit by degree." His tone was bitter, but tone alone didn't typically break the conventions of their conversation. He continued "And of their people, any seen or sought?"

"No, pilgrim. Alas, only a man sitting in a chair in the city."

He nodded at that and then said, "A thousand insults, foul creature."

"And may you suffer a terrible fate, stranger." the cat replied.

They both rose and turned from one another. One foot in front of the other.