A part of the last line blogfest, which lets you post twenty-five lines or so before the end so that people can make sense of things, these are the last lines of my comic fantasy novel, which is going under the working title Court of Dreams. I hope you enjoy them.
...Not having to listen to people telling you what to do was almost the definition of what he was now, and Grave liked it. Pointedly, he sat down and started to wash himself.
A little way further on, a tiny, furry shape moved into the open, scurrying for freedom. Yes, the cat that had been Grave thought, this was better than hunting people any day.
He heard the sound of footsteps long before he saw Poppy round the corner, working on the hedges with a watering can. One part of him wanted to yell ‘help, get me out of this’, but rather more of him wanted to walk up to her and rub against her legs, so he did. Grave wasn’t particularly surprised when she picked him up and started stroking his chin.
‘And where did you come from?’ She asked. Grave just purred. ‘You’re a loveable old thing, aren’t you?’
A memory surfaced with those words. Hadn’t Freli the witch told him something similar would happen? Damn it! The hag had known! Grave wanted to jump down, to race to the witch’s house and… and… well, part of him wanted to tear her limb from limb, obviously, but something else was telling him that the correct response was to sit outside her window and wail every night.
‘I’ve always wanted a cat.’ Poppy said, interrupting Grave’s feline thoughts of revenge. ‘How would you like it if you lived with me, Mr Cat? I’ll look after you, and stroke you, and you can eat all the mice that try to get at my plants.’
She put Grave down on the ground and picked up her watering can. She took a few steps back through the maze before stopping and looking back at him expectantly.
‘Are you coming, Mr Cat?’
Grave waited a moment. He had his dignity after all. Then, with a meow to tell the little scurrying thing in the hedge that he’d be back, he bounded after the gardener.