Cake and Cider.

The soft wind blew over their fur, ruffling it with a gentle touch. The breeze had brought a smell to Cake’s nostrils, a rather delightful smell of mixed spices. At this distance it was faint, but with a scant few strides, Cake was down on all fours and chasing the smell.

They skidded to a halt as they approached the edge of the small wooded area they had chosen to reside in since leaving Hell; there was a gathering of humans on the other side of the underbrush.

But the smell was coming from over there, with them. Beyond even the smell of the roasted meats that they had skewered over the fire, there was a wooden barrel that the scent was originating from. Cake paced through the underbrush, unsure of what to do with the smell. They wanted some of whatever it was.

One of the humans - the one carrying the barrel in their arms - raised their head and looked in Cake’s direction.

“I think there’s a cat?”‌

One of the other humans waved them off, “No cats would survive out here.”

The first human nodded, but kept their eyes on the space that Cake was occupying as they lowered the barrel to the ground next to the fire. They broke the barrel open and began serving ladles of the amber liquid into the cups offered by their companions.

It took a moment before Cake made a decision. A‌ fat white cat trotted out of the forest underbrush and towards the human that had spotted Cake, headbutting the barrel in their hands.

“Poor stray.”‌ The human fussed over the cat, letting the cat curl up on their lap. The cat headbutted the hand that they held their tin cup in, repeatedly. “Do you want some spiced cider? Is that it?”

“Meow.”