Today’s snippet, titled “Here, Kitty Kitty”, is a piece I wrote about an NPC in my Pathfinder Campaign (sort of the “King Maker” adventure path). The intention behind this was to illustrate events occurring in the world, but away from the PCs. They’re supposed to be writing their own pieces about actual in-game events. We shall see if any materialize.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Gregor was chewing on a carrot. He liked to scrape the sweet, purple exterior skin off with his teeth first, then chomp on the inner orange part, masticating it until it was liquified before swallowing. The boy sat on the edge of the abri, dangling his little legs over and kicking his feet. Even though it was hot up here on the pale stone, he liked it.
      It was much quieter now – his life, that is – than it had been in Pikeford.
      “Here, kitty kitty,” he called, knowing the big cat may not come back any time soon. Or at all. “Pretty kitty, big-big kitty, purring kitty-love. Happy kitty, cuddly kitty, come back kitty-love.”
      Gregor tossed the thick butt of his carrot over the edge and waited until some small varmint peeked its head out of the underbrush. Its nose wrinkled and its whiskers twitched. Gregor giggled, stifling the sound with his hands so as not to scare it.
      When the little rodent had made off with the hunk of carrot, Gregor picked up the cold, greasy rabbit leg Mava had given him to eat at noon-time. He squinted up at the sky, guessed it was close enough, and began to eat.
      Even with his mouth full of meat, Gregor began singing again. “Pretty kitty, great big kitty, purring kitty-love. Happy kitty, cuddly kitty, come back kitty-love.”

* * * *

      “He sings that every day,” Luz said, stooping to pick up Mava’s broom. “Do you think-”
      “Oh, they’ll be back,” the old woman said, shuffling toward her to retrieve the old, straw sweeper. “They’ll be back. In time.”
      “Seen it, have you?”
      Mava cast a surprisingly severe glance at Luz with those rheumy eyes of hers. “I reckon that big wild-priest will be back, if it takes a day or a year or longer still. I could see it in her eyes – she adores that little boy.”
      Luz looked over at Gregor, happily chewing on a rabbit leg at the edge of the abri. “She’s not
alone. I shall miss him, quite a lot, when she comes for him.”
      “Pfft.” The old woman waved her hand dismissively.
      “What do you mean ‘pfft’? You’ve just said-”
      “Aye, aye. I did, and so it will be. The wild-priest will return for Gregor.”
      “But-”
      “And you will go with them, child. You will march off into the great cities of the south – dirty and filthy and crowded, but filled with more wonders than you or I could imagine together – and never come north again.”
      Luz frowned. She had become quite fond of Gregor, it was true, but would she really leave the mountains for good? Somehow, she doubted it. And yet – Mava had made several very astute observations since they met and Luz felt in her heart that if the wood’s witch said so – so it would be.
      “I always wanted to see the Ruby Fortress,” she said, thoughtfully. Glancing at the little boy once more, a half-smile crept across her lips. “He won’t like the city, I don’t think. He’ll always miss the mountains. He was born here.”
      Mava reached up and gripped her chin, forcing Luz to meet her gaze. “I said that you will never come north again. Not he. No, he will return to the green when he is grown, and it will know him as one of its own.”
      Swallowing hard, Luz managed a nod. A cold finger touched her heart and she wondered what would prevent her come ever coming north again. Has she already seen my death?

* * *
      “Pretty kitty, great big kitty, purring kitty-love. Happy kitty, cuddly kitty, come back kitty-love.”
      Gregor was singing to himself, but he made sure to be loud enough that Luz would not worry he had wandered off and been eaten by bears or goblins or fallen down a hill. Luz worried a lot. For a moment, he remembered a pretty lady with golden eyes and hair like the sun and there was a pang in his chest.
      He shook his head and the song faded from his lips. One, two, free. Gregor counted the acorns and pebbles he had lined up every single day since Kitty and her mountain lion had left him here with Luz and the old woman.
      Gregor only knew enough numbers to name the fingers of one hand, but he lined up his little treasures in three lines of five each. Five and five and five days. That’s a lot of days.
      He glanced up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by, and wondered how many more it would be until Kitty came back. A strange cloud paused above him and Gregor thought to himself that it was very odd indeed, because the shape almost looked like the feathered headdress Kitty wore.
      He smiled. Soon, I bet. Real soon.
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Note: Image is “Cave “Szachownica” ZPK Poland” by datarec from SXC.hu