We continue petting Inky for a while. The little spirit sprawls out across Eris's lap and mine, its shadowy body stretching and curling like smoke in the breeze. Within minutes, it drifts off to sleep, purring softly, each little vibration like the hum of a lullaby.
Watching it sleep is… oddly calming.
There's something about the sound, the rhythm, the warmth. They say a cat's purr carries healing power. That it can ease pain, lower stress, even mend a broken heart.
And I guess… a purring spirit pretending to be a cat counts too.
The garden is quiet now. Just the sound of Inky's breath and the soft rustling of crimson petals swaying in the moonlit breeze. The world feels slower. Softer.
Then, Eris speaks again. Her voice gentle, but serious.
Her story isn't over yet.
"You know what," she says, still gazing down at Inky's tiny form, "after we made it back to ShadowFang… it turned out the situation was even worse than I thought."
"Eh? What do you mean?" I ask, my ears perking.
