#fluffbruay 2023

[astaldis]

Fluffbruary - Cat (The Witcher TV)

Somehow and very unexpectedly, a cat snuck into my story at 2:30 in the morning and insisted on being written.

Thanks for the prompt, @fluffbruary !!!

This is the beginning of Chapter 13 (sorry, the rest of the chapter has not been written yet) of "Earned Loyalty", guess Cahir and Gallatin deserve a little fluff after all the whumpy adventures from the previous chapters. For all the cat-lovers among my readers 🐈‍⬛

He wakes up to not only his shoulder aching dully where the arrow had hit him, but also to a strange feeling on his lower legs. Something heavy that is pinning them down. It radiates warmth, though, and he feels damnably cold, almost on the verge of shivering. The warmth is welcome. But what is it? With an effort of will, he forces his eyes open. It is pitch dark in the room. He listens into the silence of the night. Somebody is snoring loudly in the adjacent room, probably one of his soldiers. He can hear a soft, whimpering sound from there, too. Must be one of the children who is having a nightmare. He cannot even blame them. Being held hostage by a band of enemy soldiers must be traumatising and inspire all kinds of bad dreams. Maybe he should not have threatened to wring their necks? They have no way of knowing he would not do anything like this, at least not unless directly ordered by the White Flame. But the White Flame would not order atrocities that cruel unless it is absolutely necessary. Here, it is not.

Suddenly, when he carefully shifts his legs just a little, there is another sound. A low kind of humming. It is not coming from next door but from the foot end of the bed. Slowly, Cahir tries to sit up just a little. It hurts to move his shoulder but he is curious. His eyes have adapted to the darkness by now as much as simple human eyes can and it is possible for him to make out some rough shapes in the moonlight that shines in through the half-open window. There is a big dot of deepest darkness on the blanket where his lower legs and feet are. The sound is coming from there. A big black cat. It must have come in through the window. Maybe it is used to sleeping in this bed and does not care that an injured enemy soldier is occupying it tonight instead of its usual people? The purring is strangely soothing and with a soft groan, Cahir lies back down. A real bed with a mattress, clean blankets and soft pillows. He has missed that. And a fluffy, warm cat on top of it. While Gallatin and his men have to watch and take care of the hostages. They will not get much sleep, let alone in a bed. Maybe having got shot is not that bad after all ...

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

When Gallatin enters the room to check on Cahir as quietly as only an elf can do it, his eyes grow wide with surprise. In the flickering light of his candle, he can see a pair of big golden eyes stare at him. A huge black cat is lying curled up on his deeply asleep friend's feet. It must have snuck in through the window. Gallatin's lips curl into a smile. This is cute. He puts the candle onto the nightstand and sits down on the edge of the bed. The cat yawns and stretches extensively when he starts to ruffle its silky fur. Then it begins to purr so loudly, he is almost afraid it will wake up Cahir. And the young Nilfgaardian commander needs all the sleep he can get after having lost quite a bit of blood. But the injured knight only moves his head a little sideways, in the direction of the elf. Shit, with the candlelight illuminating Cahir's dreamy face, he would have real difficulty to decide who is cuter if he was asked, the cat or the man. Feeling a sudden, strong urge to not only stroke the purring animal but to also run his fingers through the human's curly hair, he stands up quickly. No, he definitely should not do that. 

"Gallatin?" Cahir asks drowsily, roused from his sleep by the elf's abrupt movement. "Anything the matter?"

"Ssh, go back to sleep, friend," Gallatin says, "everything 's fine and under control, don't worry."

"Good," Cahir mutters, closing his eyes again. "'m c-cold," he then adds miserably, shuddering in his semi-sleep.

It is not really cold in the room, a little fresh maybe from the draft from the window. Must be the extensive blood loss, Gallatin assumes. Or is Cahir developing a fever? He walks over to the window and closes it. The cat will hopefully tell them when it needs to get out. Cats are usually quite good and insistent at making their people aware of what they want. Then he returns to the bed to feel Cahir's forehead. It is clammy and cold, not hot. No fever, but his friend has started to shiver badly. 

"Alright, move your lazy, frozen bum over a little," Gallatin says, taking off his boots. "But careful, don't scare the cat."

The cat looks up irritatedly when Cahir stirs to make some room but it does not seem to mind much. It sits up and starts to lick its paw while waiting for the elf to get under the blankets. Still purring, it then leaves its place at the foot of the bed, comes closer and curls up on the pillows right between the two men. It must be used to two people lying under the duvets together - this is a marital bed after all. Gallatin snuggles his face into the cat's fur. Having this fluffy black barrier between them is quite fortunate. Without it, he might have been tempted to do something that he certainly should not. Not while Cahir is injured and hardly conscious. Well, most probably not ever. For it could easily destroy their friendship. But sharing a little warmth with a sick comrade should be okay, Gallatin suspects.

The cat purrs contentedly. It appears to agree.