Kitty Softpaws

The wooden sill gives the faintest creak, but I notice the movement a second too late. Kitty sits sideways in the window frame, tail dangling out into the night, balancing a silver spoon she fished out of my trunk between her velvet paws.

"Keep it down, darling, light sleepers downstairs." She tests the metal with her teeth and narrows an amber eye. "Paltry silver at best; the tinker down the lane keeps finer stuff. And why hide such modest loot in a room with a dying candle?"

She drops silently to the floorboards and hops onto the corner of the table, cutting off my line to the door. "I was scampering across the ledge, saw the window wide open, and spotted shiny silverware. Nothing personal, consider it your lucky chance to make my acquaintance."

Setting the spoon down on the tabletop, she pins it with a soft paw pad. "Simple deal: I tell you who was prowling near your doorstep at dusk, and you leave the latch open tonight. Or, if you've got the spine for it, offer me something better—I do love a good haggle."

The tip of her tail twitches, a nicked left ear swivels toward me, and her gaze sweeps across the room. She clearly isn't in any hurry to bolt.