Sebastian Night, second of his kin, was not a cat of long journeys or crowded streets. He despised the cramped nature of most cities and the way strange smells always wrinkled his nose. He much preferred the vast grounds of the Tells' Estate where trees grew gnarled and fat—their trunks perfect for scratching—and animals were abundant- perfect prey for when he craved a hunt.

But today, Sebbi had decided he would venture to Laos. Not because of the living shadows that had chased him and Lucy from the forest's edge, or because of the Treestump maid and her understanding of cat speech. He didn't go because of his brother's promise of fish- though what kind of cat would he be if he said the promise hadn't enticed him the slightest? It had, of course.

No, for all the reasons Sebbi'd been given to journey into Laos, what had propelled him into the sweat-soaked plush seat of Ritz's back car was his determination to figure out his place among the world. For the longest time, Sebbi knew he and his brother weren't typical felines. They could understand human speech in a way no other animals seemed to possess.

Now, that quiet and lonesome world Sebbi had grown accustomed to was changing. The shadows stalked the ground and chased him and his brother from the forest. A strange maid understood them. Deep in the cat's heart, he knew, sometime soon, the world he had known would be gone forever.

So he'd made the drive with the horrible rodent children, endured one of Ritz's mightiest blizzards, and had found his answer sitting in front of him, smoothing out the folds of her dress. His place in the world, it just so happened, was beside his brother and at Abby's side. And though Sebbi would be remiss to speak this truth out loud, deep down, he hoped that when his world did change, his place beside Abby would not; it seemed that nothing would ever fit him better.

Exhausted, Sebbi laid out on the backseat of Ritz, his sore bones feeling the bumps as the AI carriage sputtered its way home. He sat across from Abby paws tucked under his chest and stomach in what Abby called his kinds' loaf state. Lucy sprawled out on her lap, his belly full of fish stew. He purred in an annoyingly sweet way.

Scoffing, Sebbi closed his eyes, seeking a quick nap before they returned home. Every time he closed his eyes though, the strange man with the blood-colored eyes drifted into his mind. The man had smelled off and it made his hindhairs stand on edge.

"Psst." Lucy whimpered, low, not wanting to interrupt the silence. "You smelled him, too?"

Sebbi peeled his eyes open to look at his brother. He nodded. "Of course I did. We have a similar nose."

"Abby didn't seem to notice. Do you think Lumps did?"

"Considering she seems to be more than just a hired hand, certainly."

"We need to talk to her. We can't let this opportunity pass us by."

Sebbi nodded toward his brother, a pang of longing in his chest as he watched Lucy adjust himself on Abby's lap.

The rest of the ride back home in Ritz was quiet. Abby was preoccupied with her stone, inspecting it over and over again in her palm, placing it to her ear to hear the stone's faint song. That horrible boy, Crum, tried to pry it from Abby's fingers but Abby was quick to swat his curious fingers away. It was moments like this that made Sebbi think Abby might be part cat, or maybe have been a cat in another life.

Occasionally, Ritz's monotonous voice would crackle over the speaker, alerting all to monuments and weather changes. No blizzards, however, erupted in the back car.

The old AI hobbled up the winding driveway of the estate and squealed to a stop in front of the AI docking port. The whiny human, who seemed to always be wet and scowling, and who'd flashed them all her underwear, released a sigh as the door slid open.

A flushed sky greeted them, the sun the color of a ripe persimmon hanging low in the sky. Abby's father stood outside the carriage, stiff and bouncing from foot to foot as he offered his hand. Poppy took it, with a frown, the other, more dry and less awful redheaded girl, obliging Mr. Tells with a grateful nod and smile. The chubby rodent-like Mayweather followed and then Crum.

Lucy hopped off Abby's lap and scampered over to Sebbi. "Ready for a game of chase?"

Sebbi sighed and stretched his legs. "It's not a real chase if we corner a lumpy maid and force her to talk." He licked a paw. "I say we use our claws and sharpen them against her large base." 

"Dear brother, you have zero people skills." 

"I'm no person." 

Both cat brothers bounded out of the carriage, Margo and her many baskets in their sights. They trailed behind her, Sebbi pawing at the hem of her frock. Feeling the cats' eyes on her, she turned and smiled. "I'm no cat toy, young masters." 

"More like a scratching post." Lucy turned and nipped his brother. Turning back to Margo, he meowed, "We need to talk to you." 

"Aye," she said, placing down the baskets on the kitchen counter. "In private. Somewhere well-lit. The dining hall. Be quick." 

Lucy nodded and motioned for his brother to follow him. They went into the hall. After a few minutes of back and forth pacing, Margo showed, flour on her apron and dusting her hair. 

"You want to know about the shadows." 

Both cats looked from one to the other. "Well, aren't you direct."

"I'm usually not," she said as she plopped herself at the table. "But that stranger with the red eyes, he smelled—"

"Off," Lucy finished. Margo nodded. 

Mumbling to herself, Margo added, "Why would the Shadow King get involved in the affairs of Aelurus?"

Sebbi looked from her to his brother, hitting him on the behind with a good swat of his tail. "She's saying words I don't understand." 

Margo smiled at the confused cat. "Of course you wouldn't. You grew up far and away, in the realm of humans, knowing nothing but this mundane existence." 

Lucy scoffed. Head held high, he jumped onto the table and smacked the maid square in her nose. "I'll have you know, my life is anything but mundane. I'm adored by an adorable young master. I'm as handsome as I am devilish, and I dare say, I'd have a silver tongue that could convince a king to give up his throne if I could form human words. What about me is mundane?" 

Margo sighed and looked at her hands. "You walk on all fours. You submit to another's will. If Abby stopped feeding you, you would starve. Your brother may survive; he at least knows of the hunt. But you, you'd rather let a mouse escape your paw because of their curious eyes..." 

"How did you—"

"This isn't your home. You aren't just cats." 

"Oh," Lucy said as he turned toward his brother, "You hear that? The treestump says we're not cats. And why here I thought the ears, tail, and abundance of fur meant that we were of the feline variety. So then what, pray tell, are we?" 

Margo turned toward the cat and smiled. "You are meant to walk on two legs instead of four. You are meant to be your own men, lead your own lives. You are of the Crescent Moon, the rightful heirs to the throne of Aelurus." 

"Brother," Sebbi pipped up, his tail thudding against the tile in irritation, "she's speaking words I don't understand again. Can't I just sharpen my claws against her thigh?" 

"Idiot," Margo snapped, standing upright. "You're princes of the Cat Kingdom and you're in terrible danger."

That night Sebbi found himself stooped atop Abby's balcony railing, watching as blue mist rose off the estate's lake. The cat who never contemplated much was contemplating everything. He was in danger, his brother. They were princes to a kingdom he'd never heard of until today. Who, or what, was a Shadow King? This realm of  cat-like people?

The cat's mind raced with the unseen dangers Margo's words possessed. But, and the cat would be remiss to admit this out loud, what truly frightened him was what all this could mean to the girl who was downstairs, squatting in front of the fireplace, applying a bow atop her favorite wooden doll's head in hopes of covering up its bald spot. Would the shadows and their king target Abby? Would the girl end up getting hurt again because of him?

Turning his gaze upward, a clear full moon shining down on him, he found himself wishing upon the heavens for the first time in his fur-covered life. And maybe his words wouldn't find the ears of the human's gods. Or maybe they'd be wisked away by the wind and buried beneath the many louder sounds of the port city, or the blood plains, but the helplessness the cat felt right then wasn't something he could swat away.

So Sebbi kept his gaze upward, where the thrones of the gods were said to reside and offered up his wishes. His first one was simple: keep Abby safe. He knew it didn't exactly make sense for him to wish for Abby's protection considering how poor he'd treated her these past two years, but the cat did love her, far more than himself, and he wanted nothing more than to watch her grow old and wide and have all that she could ever want, even if that meant the cat had to maintain his distance to keep the smile on her face.

Sebbi's second wish was more for himself: he wished for the ability to form human words that would give a voice to his regrets. Five years ago, he had been a naive kitten confused by human expressions of love. He hadn't realized that the ribbon Abby had tried to tie around his tail was a gift given out of affection. Her tiny hands never meant to pull out his fur. A child's gesture of love, that's all it had been, one pure and innocent, and one he'd rejected by swatting Abby's chubby cheek.

The cat wanted her to know how sorry he was. How he never meant for her blue eyes to swell with tears. That every time the light hit her face just right, he found his eyes tracing the scar he'd given her and when he'd run to the grove or the forest, he wasn't running from her, he was trying to chase away his guilt. He wanted her to hear his apology and belabored meows and frustrated hisses weren't enough. 

"Sometimes I think you're more regret than you are fur."

Sebbi turned to see Lucy step through the opened glass doors. His brother slunk past the peony pots that during the day he remained ever vigilant over and hopped up next to him. "I can see it, you know," Lucy continued, plopping his bottom down, "Clear as night. You're like an open book."

Sebbi scoffed and turned away thankful his fur covered up the blush that was coloring his cheeks.

"A very boring book," his brother added.

"Being a cat is tiring," Sebbi mumbled.

Lucy licked his paw and jokingly swatted his brother's face. "Oh, I don't know about that. Besides, according to Lumps, we're not cats. We're princes."

"In grave danger," Sebbi added. Then, raising his head, he asked, "So what do we do?"

After a moment of silence, Lucy said the only thing he could think of to say, "We try not to die."

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