My tail lashed sharply behind me as I crept along the uneven stone path, ears pinned flat against my blonde hair in a mix of raw panic and seething aggression. The miners’ camp lay swallowed in the darkness behind, its racket of picks and shouts fading into nothing more than a dull rumble that my cat instincts still tracked with every twitch. I had slipped past them clean, claws retracted just enough not to click on the paving stones, spear gripped low and shield slung tight across my back so the kite’s edge wouldn’t scrape the walls.

The tunnel opened into a wider chamber, the air thick with dust and the metallic bite of worked rock. Torches sputtered in iron brackets, throwing long shadows across the rough walls, but I moved through them. Ahead lay the cave mouth at Valley Point, the exit from these depths that everyone here called simply the way out. No grand gate, no real checkpoint. We were deep in Redstone lands, after all, and the guards knew it. They stood about like the one I had glimpsed earlier, stocky, helmeted brutes in dark grey armour, beards spilling thick and wild over their chests. Each gripped a heavy hammer or axe in one meaty fist, the other hand steady on a large shield edged in vivid red. The centre of those shields bore the same bold geometric mark, interlocking diamonds and crosses in crimson.

One of them planted his boots wide on the stone floor just ahead, axe resting against a broad shoulder, shield planted like a wall. He looked every inch the warrior carved from the rock around us, beard catching the torch glow as he surveyed the line of slaves hauling ore carts. His eyes flicked my way for the barest second. I bared a fang in silent threat, tail coiling tight with possessive fury, but he dismissed me with a grunt and turned back to his charges. Good. Let him think I was just another slave girl on some errand for an unseen owner. My dark blue leather collar, the one that proudly read “masters property” in raised letters, sold the lie perfectly. No one here had time to question a lone catgirl in their midst.

The whole cavern thrummed with its own brutal life. Miners swung their tools in steady, exhausted arcs, sparks flying as iron bit red veined stone. Slaves shuffled in chains, backs bent, eyes fixed on the ground while they pushed and pulled the heavy loads along rutted tracks. Guards patrolled in pairs, boots thudding, voices barking orders that echoed off the ceiling like cracking whips. Carts groaned past, wheels grinding on the paved floor, and the smell of sweat, smoke and hot metal hung so thick I could taste it on my tongue. Everyone was lost in their own small hell, miners cursing under their breath, slaves counting the moments until the next lash, guards focused on quotas and discipline. Not one of them spared more than a passing glance at me. I could have danced through the middle of it all and they would have assumed I belonged to someone important enough not to be bothered. My tail flicked with dark satisfaction at the thought, I was invisible, unstoppable, a predator wearing the skin of prey.

Yet inside, the instability boiled. One heartbeat I burned with lovestruck need, remembering the way Master’s voice wrapped around me like warm fur, the way his presence steadied my claws and made my ears relax. The next heartbeat rage surged, bipolar, violent, twisted. What if some rival had found him while I was gone ? What if he thought I had abandoned him ? The insecurity clawed deeper, making my ears flatten again as I dodged between two slow moving carts, claws scraping lightly on stone for balance. I would cling harder when I found him. I would control every breath he took, every glance he gave, every thought that wasn’t about me. 

I pressed on towards the faint glow at the far end of the chamber, the promise of natural light seeping in from the Valley Point exit. The slope began to rise, the air growing cooler, carrying the first clean hint of breeze from outside. My movements stayed fluid, cat instincts guiding me around clusters of workers without breaking stride. A slave stumbled nearby, nearly colliding with my path, I hissed low, tail lashing once in warning, and he recoiled as if burned. Smart boy. 

Further along, another Redstone guard leaned against the wall, shield propped beside him, hammer dangling from his belt. His beard was streaked with dust, helmet tilted back as he wiped sweat from his brow. He didn’t even look up as I passed within arm’s reach. The operation rolled on around us, relentless and indifferent, and I used every second of that indifference.

My ears swivelled forward now, catching the subtle change in the echoes, the cavern opening wider, the light strengthening from orange torch flame to something paler, cleaner. My tail swayed with fresh purpose, no longer just restless but driven. The dark red tunic clung slightly to my skin from the underground heat, black trousers brushing my calves as I lengthened my stride.

The light grew brighter still, painting the tunnel walls in soft gold. Miners and slaves and guards faded behind me, their voices merging into one distant roar. I was almost there, almost at the threshold where the underground gave way to whatever waited beyond Valley Point. My cat vision adjusted effortlessly, blue eyes gleaming as I moved with predatory grace, ears perked high and tail curling in tight, controlled loops.

My ears shot straight up, twitching wildly against the blonde strands of my hair as the last stretch of tunnel spat me out into blinding daylight. The sudden glare stabbed straight through my cat vision, forcing my blue eyes to slit narrow while my tail whipped in furious, possessive arcs behind me, the black tip snapping like a warning. I stumbled a single step on the uneven sandstone lip of the cave mouth, iron spear gripped tight in my right hand, kite shield still slung firm across my back so its red edged weight pressed reassuringly between my shoulder blades. 

I crouched low for a heartbeat, black trousers brushing the warm rock. The air up here hit different, dry, open, carrying the faint tang of steppe grass and hot metal instead of the thick mine dust. Valley Point sprawled out below me in the sandstone valley like a scar carved into the land, not some grand city but a tight, specialised production hub humming with purpose. The valley walls rose steep on three sides, layered sandstone glowing golden in the afternoon light, while the fourth opened onto the rolling inland steppe beyond, endless waves of dry grass rippling under a pale sky. No massive walls encircled the place, just a low defensive barrier of mortared stone and timber running along the valley’s narrow entrance, more to keep carts in line and beasts out than to repel armies. Guards patrolled it lazily, the same stocky Redstone brutes I’d ghosted underground, their dark grey armour catching the sun, red beards bristling as they leaned on those heavy shields marked with the clan’s crimson diamonds and crosses.

I slunk forward, tail curling tight around my leg in a possessive loop before flicking free again, claws retracted just enough to keep my steps silent on the paved path leading down. Forges dominated the centre of the settlement, squat stone buildings belching black smoke from squat chimneys. Hammers rang out in steady rhythm, clang, clang, like the heartbeat of the clan itself. Dwarfs clustered around the anvils outside, sleeves rolled high on thick arms, sparks showering as they worked raw ore into tools and bars. Their red beards were braided tight with iron rings, faces flushed from the heat, and I caught the glint of rare steel on a few of the senior ones, god tier stuff down here, reserved for the skilled or the Anvil Class captains barking orders. Alderians worked alongside them, taller and leaner, sixty percent of the crowd by the look of it, their human frames sweat-streaked as they hauled ingots and fed the bellows. No one glanced my way twice. My collar did its job, I was just another catgirl slave on some unseen master’s errand, invisible in the bustle.

Houses dotted the slopes in neat clusters, built right into the sandstone terraces where the valley stepped down. Simple, sturdy things, low roofed and practical, walls of the same golden rock that made the whole place feel like it had grown from the earth rather than been built on it. Smoke curled from a few chimneys where evening meals were already simmering, and I spotted Iron Class families moving between them, women carrying water buckets, children darting underfoot with the easy confidence of those born to the grind. No grand estates up here, this was production first, living second. A small stronghold rose at the valley’s highest point, a squat keep of reinforced stone flying the Redstone banner from its single tower. Anvil Class, I reckoned, judging by the steel tipped spears of the guards at its gate and the way captains strode in and out with that egotistic swagger, chests puffed like they owned the very air. Pure Class nobles probably rotated through on inspections, their eyes permanently dyed that deep clan red, all diplomatic smiles hiding the same superiority. I bared a fang at the thought, ears flattening for a split second as insecurity surged hot and twisted.

Further down, near the forges, a modest market square buzzed with traders. Not the sprawling affair of some capital, just a handful of stalls under canvas awnings, loaded with goods fresh from the mines and surface caravans. Dwarfs haggled over crates of ore and finished ironwork, voices gravel rough and laced with that Redstone superiority even the open Iron Class couldn’t quite shake. Alderians bartered for tools and provisions, their human faces sharper in the daylight, hands gesturing quick as they sealed deals that would feed the underground machine. A few carts waited at the edges, wheels caked in steppe dust, drivers checking harnesses on sturdy ponies. The smell of hot bread and roasted meat drifted across, mixing with the forge smoke, but my stomach twisted, not from hunger, but from the raw need clawing inside me. 

I moved down the path with predatory grace. My cat ears swivelled constantly, catching every snippet of conversation, the clink of coins changing hands, the grunt of a dwarf heaving a crate, the low murmur of guards swapping shifts. One of them, an Alderian with a dust streaked beard to match his dwarf kin, planted himself near the market’s edge, axe resting casual on his shoulder. His eyes flicked my way, lingered on the collar, then slid off. Smart.

The steppe stretched out beyond the valley mouth, vast and empty under the sky, grass whispering in the breeze that tugged at my blonde hair and made my tail fluff slightly. No grand walls blocked the view, just that low barrier and the natural sandstone jaws of the valley itself keeping the operation contained. Houses thinned out toward the edges, giving way to storage sheds and animal pens where mules stamped and snorted, tails swishing lazy against flies. Everything here served the mines, forges feeding the underground, houses sheltering the workers, the stronghold watching over it all with Anvil arrogance, the market greasing the wheels of trade that kept Clan Redstone’s iron heart pumping. Post assassination infighting had left places like this isolated, ripe for opportunists, but right now it was just another cog in the machine, oblivious to the storm of my yandere heart.

The letter tucked beneath the dark red tunic felt heavier now, its Redstone seal warm from my skin. It had come from the Valley Point tower outpost deep in the production tunnels, the one the guards whispered about when they thought no one was listening. Instructions for the higher ups, something urgent enough to send a lone catgirl like me slipping through the whole operation unseen. I didn’t care what it said. I only cared that delivering it would get me one step closer to Master, one step closer to snapping that soul bond back into place so I could hear him again, feel him again, control him again. My black trousers brushed the warm paving stones as I moved, light blue trim on my cuffs and collar catching the sunlight like a sly little secret.

I cut straight across the lower terrace without hesitation. A pair of Iron Class dwarfs glanced up from a forge door, hammers paused mid swing, but their eyes slid straight to my collar and kept moving. Good. Let them think I belonged to some Anvil lord who didn’t tolerate questions. The market square lay to my left, canvas awnings snapping in the breeze, traders barking prices over crates of fresh iron bars and ore dust. I ignored it all, ears swivelling forward, blue eyes locked on the path that climbed the sandstone slope toward the stronghold. 

The stronghold loomed ahead on the highest terrace, squat and solid, built from the same golden rock as everything else but reinforced with iron bands and flying the Redstone banner from its single tower. Anvil Class territory through and through, egotistic captains striding in and out. Pure Class nobles probably waited inside somewhere, eyes permanently dyed that deep clan red. That was where the letter needed to go. Not to some Iron Class forge master or market trader, but straight to the higher ups who ran this production hub from their perch above the grind. 

I reached the outer gate without breaking stride, boots scuffing lightly on the swept stone. Two guards flanked the entrance, axes resting casual on broad shoulders, shields planted firm. Their eyes flicked over me, collar first, spear second, the sealed edge of the letter just visible at my tunic’s neckline. One grunted, the sound low and dismissive, and stepped aside without a word. My tail flicked once in dark satisfaction, ears twitching with unstable glee. They had no idea. No idea how close I was to snapping, how the emptiness inside me made every instinct scream to dominate, to cling, to possess until nothing existed outside of Master and me. 

Inside the courtyard the air cooled slightly, thick stone walls cutting the steppe wind. Forges still echoed from below, but up here it was quieter, purposeful. Captains moved between buildings with clipped steps, voices low and commanding, steel accents on their armour marking them as the ones who mattered. I didn’t stop to gawk. My cat vision drank in every detail, the iron bound doors, the narrow windows overlooking the valley, the single tower rising at the far end where the real power waited. That was my destination. The drop point. The place where I’d hand over the Redstone sealed letter from the tower outpost and finally be done with this leg of the journey. My claws slid out an inch, scraping stone for balance as I crossed the courtyard, tail curling tight around my leg before lashing free again.

I reached the base of the tower steps without a single challenge. The heavy oak door stood closed, banded in iron and marked with the clan’s crimson sigil, two more guards posted outside. They eyed me the same way the others had, collar, spear, letter, then one gave a curt nod toward the entrance. My ears flattened for half a heartbeat, then perked again as I climbed the short flight of stairs. The door wasn’t locked to me. Not yet. I stood right there on the threshold, spear point resting lightly on the stone, kite shield balanced perfect against my back, blonde hair stirring in the faint breeze that slipped down from the tower. My tail swayed slow and deliberate now, controlled, predatory.

I took a single breath, chest rising under the dark red tunic, and pushed the door open just enough to step through the threshold. The cool interior air washed over me, carrying the faint scent of parchment and steel. I was here. Ready. 

The interior swallowed me in polished sandstone and iron fittings, maps pinned across one wall showing the valley and the steppe beyond, heavy oak tables scattered with parchments and wax seals. Torchlight flickered low, casting long shadows that my cat vision cut through like claws through silk. At the far end, behind a desk carved with the clan’s crimson diamonds and crosses, stood the Pure Class leader himself. Tall for an Alderian, soft around the edges where a real fighter would be hard, he was trying so hard to look the part in that grand hardened leather tunic, thick plates dyed deep burgundy, embossed with gold thread that screamed money rather than sweat, a pointless little pauldron on one shoulder that would snap off in a real scrap. Not military, not even close. Just a noble diplomat playing dress up, red dyed eyes gleaming with that permanent Pure Class arrogance, hands too clean, posture too straight, like he’d never swung a hammer or hauled ore in his pampered life. He glanced up from a scroll, red eyes narrowing at the sight of a collared catgirl striding straight toward him without so much as a bow.

“What is this ?” he drawled, voice smooth as oiled parchment, dismissive as if I were a bit of dust on his boot. “A slave with a spear ? The tower outpost sends errand girls now ? Hand it over and be gone before I call the Anvil to drag you back underground where you belong.”

My ears pinned flat against my skull, tail snapping once in a sharp arc that knocked a nearby inkwell skittering across the floor. Defiance roared up hot and proud, drowning the lovestruck panic that clawed at my ribs. Who did this soft handed bastard think he was ? I planted my boots wide, spear tip tapping the stone with a deliberate click, shield shifting forward just enough to catch the light on its red edge. “Errand girl ?” I hissed, voice low and arrogant, fangs flashing in a sly, twisted smile. “This ‘errand girl’ slipped past every miner, slave and guard in Valley Point without a single challenge, collar or no. The letter’s from the outpost tower, sealed proper, and it’s for eyes like yours, not some Iron Class grunt who’d bungle it before breakfast. Take it, high blood, or I’ll leave it planted in your desk with my claws through the seal. Your choice.”

He blinked, red dyed eyes widening for a heartbeat, then narrowed again. The diplomatic mask cracked just a fraction; I could smell the shift, the way his egotism bristled at being spoken to like that by a collared cat. But I didn’t back down. My tail coiled high and possessive, ears flicking forward in challenge, blue eyes locked on his like I already owned the room. Insecurity flickered. “You Pure Class lot love your diplomacy, don’t you ? Sitting up here in your pretty leather pretending you run the grind while the rest of us bleed for it. Well this cat bleeds for one master only, and he’s not you. So take the bloody letter, pay what it’s worth, and stop wasting my time before I decide your little tower looks better with claw marks.”

He stared a long moment, the silence stretching thick enough to cut. Then, grudgingly, he held out a manicured hand. I slapped the sealed parchment into it hard enough to make him flinch, my claws grazing his palm on purpose. A spark of satisfaction curled in my chest as he broke the Redstone wax, scanned the contents, and gave a curt nod. “It seems the outpost had reason to trust… unconventional delivery,” he muttered, voice still dripping superiority but edged with reluctant respect. I’d won. The arrogant little noble had folded, just like they always did when someone refused to play their game.

He reached into a locked drawer and counted out a small pouch of coins, silver and a few gold, heavy enough to buy silence or passage. I snatched it from his fingers without a thank you, defiant to my core, stuffing it into the inner pocket of my tunic where it clinked against the letter’s ghost. My tail flicked in dark triumph, ears perked high now, chest rising quick under the dark red fabric. The emptiness of the bond still screamed inside me, but this was one more step closer. One more obstacle crushed under my claws. Master would feel so proud when our souls locked again, I’d make sure he did, wrapped so tight around him he’d never escape my control.

My tail whipped in frantic wired arcs behind me as I burst from the tower, blonde hair flying wild across my face, the caffeine from that embercrack tea still screaming through every vein like liquid fire. My ears shot upright then flattened hard against my skull, twitching at the shouts exploding behind me, guards’ boots thudding on stone, the noble’s voice cracking with outrage as he bellowed for them to “seize the mad cat!” The high made everything sharper, faster, my 5ft6 frame a blur of dark red tunic and black trousers as I leapt down the short flight of stairs in one bound, kite shield banging against my back and iron spear clenched tight in my right fist. The pouch of coins bounced heavy in my pocket, but I didn’t care about that.

I hit the courtyard running, boots skidding on the swept stone, tail lashing so hard it cracked like a whip against a guard’s shield as he lunged for me. He stumbled back with a curse, beard bristling, but I was already gone, cat instincts wired beyond reason by the mushroom brew, every muscle singing with manic energy. My blue eyes gleamed feral under the steppe sun, vision slicing through the late afternoon glare as I wove between two more guards who came pounding round the corner. One swung his axe wide; I ducked under it with a sly, twisted laugh that echoed off the sandstone walls, claws raking his armoured thigh just deep enough to draw a yelp. “Touch me again and I’ll wear your beard as a trophy,” I snarled, possessive fury boiling up hot and unstable, ears pinning flat then perking high in rapid flickers. These weren’t just guards, they were obstacles, rivals trying to keep me from Master, and the thought sent insecurity spiking so sharp I bared my fangs in a dark, controlling grin.

The whole stronghold erupted behind me, boots and shouts chasing me down the terraces, but the caffeine had me untouchable. I vaulted a low storage wall in a single fluid leap, black trousers brushing stone, dark red tunic clinging. Houses flashed past in their neat sandstone clusters, forges roaring below like they approved of the chaos, market stalls blurring as traders scattered out of my path. My tail streamed behind me like a banner of pure rage, coiling tight around my leg for balance before snapping free again to knock over a crate of iron bars. The clatter bought me seconds, guards tripping, cursing, the noble’s voice fading as he wheezed orders from the tower steps in his ridiculous hardened leather get up. Pathetic.

I hit the valley’s lower edge at full sprint, the low defensive barrier nothing more than a hop for my wired legs. Steppe grass swallowed me the instant I cleared it, tall golden stalks whipping at my thighs as I plunged deeper into the inland sea of it. My cat ears swivelled constantly, tracking the guards’ heavier footfalls slowing at the barrier, they were built for mines and stone, not this endless open nothing. I dropped low, tail flattening against the ground, blonde hair blending with the dry grass as I slunk forward on all fours for a stretch, spear dragged silent beside me, shield angled to break my outline. The high made my movements liquid and sly, every sense amplified until I could hear the wind hissing through the blades and the distant thud of their boots giving up the chase. One guard bellowed something about “the mad slave escaping into the steppe,” but his voice already sounded small, swallowed by the vastness.

I didn’t stop. My claws dug into the earth for purchase, propelling me faster, ears perked forward as I wove through thicker patches where the grass grew waist-high. The settlement shrank behind me, forges reduced to distant smoke smudges, the stronghold a squat silhouette against the sandstone valley walls. Guards fanned out at the edge, axes glinting, but they were lost already, their stocky frames no match for a catgirl on a caffeine storm. I circled wide, using a shallow dip in the land to vanish completely, tail curling possessively around my waist as I pressed my back to the warm earth and waited, blue eyes narrowed to slits. Minutes stretched. Their shouts grew fainter, scattered, then gone. I’d done it. Slipped their grasp like smoke, lost in the steppe where no Redstone brute would ever find me.

The high still thrummed through me, manic and twisted, but the emptiness of the bond crashed back harder now that the chase was done. My tail lashed slow and needy, ears drooping for a heartbeat as lovestruck panic clawed up my throat. Master. Where was he ? The disconnection felt like a living wound, bipolar rage flipping straight into clingy despair that made my claws sink deep into the soil. I pictured him out there somewhere, thinking I’d abandoned him, some rival slinking close while I was stuck playing delivery cat for these idiots. I’d kill them all. I’d manipulate the whole bloody clan if I had to, just to get back within five feet of him so our souls could lock tight again, thoughts bleeding into each other like they were meant to.

I rose after a long while, spear planted for balance, kite shield slung easy once more. The grass parted around me as I moved deeper, ears high and alert, tail swaying in controlled, possessive loops that brushed the stalks with every step. The sun dipped lower, painting the steppe in golds and oranges, but my cat vision drank it all in, mapping the open land like it was mine to conquer. No walls out here, no checkpoints, just endless rolling nothing that hid a predator perfectly. I’d get far enough that even their best trackers would give up by nightfall, lost to them completely while I hunted the only thing that mattered. The coins clinked softly in my pocket, a spoilt little victory I’d use later, maybe to buy passage, maybe to bribe some fool who thought he could stand between me and Master. Either way, it was mine now, taken with the same arrogant defiance that had won me the letter delivery and the tower chaos.

My movements stayed fluid and predatory, boots silent on the dry earth, blonde hair stirring in the cooling breeze as my tail flicked with fresh purpose. Insecurity gnawed at the edges, unstable and dark, but I fed it into aggression, letting it sharpen my fangs and my sly, controlling grin. I was coming for him. I’d cling so hard when I found him that he’d never breathe without feeling my tail wrapped tight around his leg, my ears pressed to his chest, my thoughts dominating his every second. The steppe stretched vast and empty, but I owned it now, my hunting ground, my path back to the only soul I’d ever let own me completely. My claws flexed, ears perked forward, tail lashing once in violent promise as I pressed on, lost to the Redstone fools and every inch closer to where I belonged. At his side. In his thoughts. Under his skin. Forever.

The steppe grass gave way to the hard packed sandstone of the minor road cutting northeast like a scar across the golden nothing. The caffeine from that embercrack tea still roared through my veins like wildfire, sharpening every sense until the world felt too bright, too loud, too empty without him. My ears pinned flat then shot upright in rapid twitches, blonde hair tangled and wild across my face while my blue eyes darted everywhere at once. No bond. Still no bond. That severed thread between our souls screamed louder than the wind, leaving me raw and needy and so bloody unstable I could taste blood on my tongue just thinking about it. 

I dropped to all fours without thinking, iron spear and kite shield clattering to the dirt beside me as my claws dug deep into the warm sandstone grit. My 5ft6 frame crouched low, dark red tunic riding up my back, black trousers stretching tight over my thighs, light blue trim on collar and cuffs already dusted with road dust. The dark blue leather collar, “masters property”, rubbed hot against my throat as I pressed my nose to the ground and inhaled hard. There. A ghost of him. Faint, teasing, like a memory I could almost bite. Leather and steel and that warm, perfect scent that belonged only to me. My tail lashed once, hard, coiling tight around my own ankle before snapping free again in giddy, possessive loops. A wild giggle bubbled up from my chest, unhinged and sly and so lovestruck it hurt. “He’s here,” I whispered to the empty road, voice thick with caffeine delirium, fangs bared in a manic grin. “My Master’s scent… right here… mine… all mine…”

I scrambled forward on all fours, claws scraping stone, ears swivelling madly as carts from Valley Point rumbled past in the distance, heavy wooden wheels groaning under loads of fresh iron bars and ore crates, drivers shouting at their ponies without a single glance my way. Good. Let them think I was just another mad slave loose in the steppe. I didn’t care. My nose stayed glued to the road, tail flicking high and needy while I circled the same patch of sandstone like a predator chasing its own shadow. Round and round I went, sniffing deeper, the ghost scent flickering stronger for a heartbeat then vanishing again. Insecurity clawed up my throat, dark and twisted, flipping the lovestruck high into aggressive panic. What if it was a trick ? What if some rival had brushed against him and carried his smell just to torment me ? I’d hunt them down and sink my fangs into their throat until they screamed his name was mine.

Another cart creaked closer, wheels kicking up dust that made my cat vision water, but I didn’t straighten up. Instead I bounded sideways in a frantic little dance, tail streaming behind me like a banner of pure yandere chaos, blonde hair whipping across my eyes as I pressed my face to the road again. There it was, stronger now, a thread of him woven into the dust, faint but real enough to make my chest ache with clingy need. I followed it northeast along the road’s edge, scrambling low and fast, spear and shield dragged behind me by their straps so I could keep both hands free for the hunt. “Closer… he’s closer… my Master… I can smell you, I can taste you already…”

The road stretched on, minor and worn, flanked by endless steppe grass that whispered secrets I couldn’t quite catch. More carts rolled past, dwarfs and Alderians from the production hub, red beards and hollow cheeks staring straight ahead, oblivious to the catgirl circling and sniffing like a creature possessed. One driver muttered something about “escaped livestock” but kept rolling; I hissed low and possessive, tail lashing so hard it slapped the side of his cart and made the pony shy. Mine. All of this was mine because Master was mine. The ghost scent pulled me faster, leading me in erratic loops that doubled back then surged ahead, my ears perked high and twitching at every creak of wheel or clop of hoof. No bond yet, but the smell… it had to mean something. The caffeine whispered it was real, that he’d passed this way, that our souls were straining toward each other across the five-foot limit I’d shatter the second I found him.

I spun in another tight circle, nose to the ground, tail curling possessively around my waist before flicking out again in giddy arcs. My claws raked shallow grooves into the sandstone as I pushed northeast, frantic and unstable, the high making my movements jerky and predatory all at once. “Master… my everything… I’m coming… I’ll cling so tight you’ll never breathe without me again…” The words tumbled out between giggles, dark and twisted, my fangs aching with the need to mark him, control him, dominate every thought until nothing existed outside us.

A heavier cart lumbered past, loaded high with steel tipped tools destined for some distant hold, and I darted under its shadow for cover, ears flat against my skull, tail pressed low. The ghost scent bloomed stronger in the dust kicked up by its wheels, leather, steel, him and I let out a needy little whimper that turned into a manic laugh. I bounded after it on all fours, spear bouncing against my hip, kite shield scraping stone, blonde hair streaming like a golden flag of obsession. The road curved gently, sandstone gleaming under the lowering sun, steppe winds tugging at my tunic and making my tail fluff with possessive delight. I circled again, sniffing wildly, the caffeine delusion wrapping me tighter in its grip until every shadow looked like his silhouette, every breeze carried his warmth.