Though Hazel supposed it wouldn’t be terrible to have a travel companion, so long as he could keep quiet and out of sight. And seeing how he hadn’t made a sound until she’d landed on him, she figured it was more her than he who needed to worry about getting caught.
She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the cat. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He eyed her suspiciously, tail flicking side to side. He didn’t seem convinced.
Slaide’s face popped up into view. “You good in there?”
“I suppose so.” She grinned, hefting the giant orange feline up in her arms.
“Are you kidding me?” He smacked his palm against his forehead.
“To be honest, I’m starting to think he’s… well…” She faded off, not wanting to say the stupid thing she was thinking out loud.
“Your familiar? Like one of those creatures that bond with witches?” Slaide finished for her.
She nodded. “It can’t be that simple.”
Slaide snorted. “I guess it makes sense. It is the same one, right? You don’t just have a horde of weird orange cats following you around?”
Hazel looked at the beast in her arms, everything about him oversized. The too-large ears and giant furry paws.
He looked up at her with his eerie, emerald eyes. Those weren’t normal either. Not compared to any cat she’d seen before, anyway.
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s him.”
When Hazel looked from the cat to Slaide, the weight of his gaze warmed her cheeks. He reached a hand up, cupping her cheek gently. Hazel rested her hand atop his.
“I love it when you do that,” he said softly.
“Do what?” Hazel asked, feeling as though the air had been stolen from her lungs.
“Blush for me.”
The pinkish glow on her cheeks deepened and she looked away quickly.
Whatever this moment was they were sharing was shattered by the sound of voices calling up ahead, toward the front of the wagon.
“Just throw it in the back with the rest of our things!” a man’s voice yelled. “We don’t have room for your smelly socks and dirty underthings up here, Mutt!”
Another man groaned, grumbling something under his breath as his footsteps carried him in their direction.
A woman’s voice said something inaudible, causing the first man to laugh at whatever she had said.
Hazel’s eyes bugged. In a few moments, she’d find out if her hiding spot was as stupidly obvious as it felt.
Slaide disappeared into the shadow of the carriage house. Between the natural shadows and his own, he was nearly invisible.
Hazel pushed herself as far into the wagon as she could, pulling her feet behind a wooden crate with what appeared to be performance props sticking out of the top. She was out of sight, for now. Of course, if anyone decided to roll back the animal hide tarp over her head, she’d be completely exposed.
The footsteps grew closer and then the man, presumably the one they’d called Mutt, stepped up to the back of the wagon, grumbling something about how it was stupid that he couldn’tkeep his belongings close to him. Seemed a little paranoid about someone nabbing his things.
Reluctantly, Mutt tossed a burlap sack in, and it thumped next to Hazel, falling open on impact.
A few moments later, Hazel understood why the others had insisted he stow his belongings in the back. She was blasted with the awful stench of Mutt’s unwashed clothes. It was a terrible mix of feet and sweat and body odor. She clamped her hands over her face in disgust.
Mutt crouched down, sniffing loudly. Hazel pulled the cat in close to her body.
And then he sneezed, causing the cat to jump violently. She managed to hang on so the startled animal wouldn’t get them caught.
