The next morning, I wake with a jolt, my heart already racing before my feet even touch the creaky wooden floor. The weight of what I have to do sinks in like a dungeon boulder in my gut. I roll out of bed, my fluffy catgirl ears twitching nervously, and tug on my clothes with shaky hands. Today's the day I face Chef Gordon and apologize for bailing on my vegetable-chopping job. My tail flicks in jittery little jerks as I tiptoe down the narrow stairs of The Gilded Horns, the familiar scent of fresh bread and sizzling bacon wafting up from the bustling kitchen below.
I pause at the doorway, peeking into the steamy, clattering heart of the tavern. Pots clang, knives flash, and Gordon looms like a mountain behind the counter, his massive frame dwarfing the chopping board as he dices onions with terrifying precision. Beside him, Eris is already there. Apparently, he's up before me and went down to talk to Gordon.
