Miri lifted her face out of the pillow and opened one eye to judge how much light was coming in through the—

  Open door?

  She pushed herself up off the bed and looked to the door that led to the fire escape. A crunch caught her attention and she whipped her head to the side, eyes wide.

  Tony lay on the floor with fresh blood smeared on his muzzle and half a rabbit between his paws.

  He looked up at her. They stared at each other.

  Miri opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again.

  “Uh.”

  And then because her brain had clearly not yet clocked-in for the day, she added, “Good boy.”

  Tony’s tail thumped once, pleased, and he returned to his breakfast with enthusiasm.

  She raised a hand. “Cleanse.”

  Warmth rippled through the room. Blood vanished. Smell vanished. The quarter of a rabbit remained stubbornly, undeniably a quarter of a rabbit.

  “…Right,” she muttered. She slipped past him and fled in search of her own breakfast.

  Miss Jane laughed heartily at Miri stumbling bleary-eyed down the stairs.

  “My goodness dear, you’re up early.”

  Miri frowned and decided not to mention the bloody rabbit on Miss Jane’s floor. She would Cleanse it before she left for the day.

  I’ll Cleanse it twice, just in case, she thought with a shudder as she plopped down in a chair.

  She looked up just in time to see Miss Jane setting a steaming mug in front of her. The smell alone made Miri’s shoulders drop an inch. She wrapped both hands around it and sighed.

  “This is exactly what I needed. You’re a blessing, Miss Jane. Truly.”

  Miss Jane smiled, already moving back toward the counter and pocketing the credits left behind by a departing patron. “Strong today. You look like someone who’s earned it.”

  Miri took a cautious sip, then a bigger one. “Having a roommate is new to me.”

  That felt like a safe summary.

  Miss Jane’s eyes twinkled. “Mm. I imagine so.” She leaned one hip against the counter, watching Miri over the rim of her own cup. “So. Are you planning to stay in Helmsworth?”

  The question was casual, but it landed heavier than Miri expected.

  “I think so,” she said slowly. “I mean—yes? Probably? I like it here. I just… I haven’t decided yet.”

  Miss Jane nodded, entirely unbothered by the uncertainty. “That’s fair. No sense committing before you’ve walked the streets properly. You should take the long way today. See if the town suits you.”

  A heavy thump sounded behind them.

  Miri turned just in time to see Tony emerge at the top of the stairs, stretching like he owned the place. He descended carefully, paws placed with deliberate precision, tail flicking lazily behind him.

  The room went very quiet. Miss Jane didn’t even blink.

  “Well, there he is,” she said cheerfully. “Good morning, handsome.”

  Tony padded over and stopped beside Miri’s chair, sitting neatly at her side. His ears twitched as he took in the smells of the kitchen, his tail curling around his paws.

  Miss Jane smiled like she’d been waiting for him. “Good morning again, you magnificent menace,” she said, circling him with open admiration. “You know, if he’s going to be walking the town with you, he’ll need a proper collar.”

  “Yep.” It was on her to-do list. “I’ll stop by the leathersmith today; it should be an easy thing to make.

  Miss Jane hummed. “A guild collar, dear. Registered. Something that tells everyone he belongs to someone who knows what she’s doing. You can get one through the Guild.”

  “That makes sense,” Miri said, nodding. “I was headed there anyway. I need to cash out my contracts.”

  “There you go,” Miss Jane said. “Kill three birds with one very large cat.”

  Miri snorted into her coffee.

  “And take the long way,” Miss Jane added, wagging a finger gently. “Let people see you. Let them get used to him. If you’re going to stay, it’s better they do their staring now.”

  Miri glanced down at Tony. “You up for a walk?”

  He looked back at her, then toward the door, then back again. He nodded. Her heart did a strange little flip.

  “Okay,” she said, smiling despite herself. “Long way it is.”

  Miss Jane clapped her hands once. “Breakfast will be waiting when you get back. And don’t worry—if anyone panics, I’ll handle it.”

  Miri stood, slung her pack over her shoulder. After a quick run upstairs to remove any evidence of the rabbit, she headed for the door with Tony padding at her side. As she reached for the handle, Miss Jane called after her, warm and certain.

  “Helmsworth grows on you, dear. I have a feeling you’ll see.”

  Miri stepped out into the morning light, tiger at her side, and thought she just might already be starting to.

  * * *

  They hadn’t gone far from the tavern when Miri slowed, finally letting herself look at Helmsworth.

  Stone streets worn smooth by centuries of feet. Buildings pressed close but not crowded, their upper floors leaning in like old friends trading secrets. Iron lanterns hung from brackets shaped like leaves and fish and abstract spirals, their magic-glow dim in the morning light. Window boxes spilled greenery and flowers down pale stone walls, ivy threading its way wherever it wasn’t explicitly told not to.

  It felt lived in. Comfortable. Like a place that expected you to stay.

  Miri smiled without meaning to.

  That was when the screaming started.

  “MONSTER—!”

  Miri flinched and turned just in time to see a man barreling out of a side street, eyes wild, face a shade of pale usually reserved for corpses and extremely bad fish.

  “MONSTER IN THE STREET,” he shrieked, pointing with one hand and clutching his chest with the other. “BY THE GODS, IT’S GOING TO EAT US ALL—”

  He tripped over his own feet, caught himself on a wall, and slid down until he was half-crouched, half-praying.

  Tony stopped walking and looked at the man.

  Then—utterly uninterested—he turned around, lifted his tail, and presented the man with a full, unapologetic view of his tiger ass.

  There was a beat of silence. Miri stared.

  The man made a strangled noise and scooted backward on his hands.

  “Oh for the love of—” Miri snapped, all conciliatory instincts evaporating on contact. “Would you stop screaming like you’ve just seen your grandparents having sex?”

  “It’s a tiger,” the man gasped.

  “Yes,” Miri said flatly. “Gold star. You have eyes.”

  “They eat people.”

  “He eats rabbits,” she shot back. “And has been polite enough not to eat anyone else.”

  As if on cue, Tony sat. Slowly. Carefully. Like he knew control mattered a great deal in this moment. He yawned, enormous jaws stretching wide enough to make the man whimper again—then closed them and blinked lazily.

  Miri crossed her arms.

  “Look at him,” she said. “Does that look like a murder spree to you?”

  The man peeked through his fingers.

  Tony’s tail flicked once. His ears twitched toward a distant sound—someone laughing, maybe, or a cart rattling over stone—and then he looked back at Miri, expectant.

  The man swallowed.

  “He’s… sitting.”

  “Yes,” Miri said. “Good observation. He does that.”

  “He’s not charging.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “No.”

  “Or roaring.”

  “Also no.”

  Tony leaned forward and sniffed the ground. Then, apparently satisfied, he flopped onto his side with a heavy thump, exposing his belly to the sky like a very large, very smug housecat.

  Miri gestured at him. “This,” she said, “is not the posture of imminent doom.”

  The man stared. “…Is he broken?”

  Tony thumped his tail against the stone.

  “Are you?” Miri snapped back.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “He’s fine. He’s trained. He’s calm. And if you keep screaming like that, you’re going to start a panic over absolutely nothing.”

  A few nearby doors had cracked open. Curious faces peeked out. Someone muttered, “Is that a tiger?”

  “Yes,” Miri said loudly, without looking away from the man. “And he’s better behaved than this guy.”

  A couple of snorts of laughter followed.

  The man flushed, color creeping back into his face as the immediate threat failed to materialize.

  “I—I thought—”

  “I know,” Miri said, sighing now. “Big teeth. Stripes. Very intimidating. You can unclench.”

  She pointed down the street. “Go. Have a drink. Tell people you saw a tiger that didn’t eat anyone. It’ll be a nice change of pace.”

  The man hesitated, then scrambled to his feet and hurried off, throwing one last wary look over his shoulder. Tony rolled back onto his feet and padded over to Miri, bumping his massive head lightly against her hip.

  She snorted and reached down to scratch behind his ear. “Good job,” she murmured. “Really sold the ‘harmless’ angle there.”

  Tony purred, deep and loud, entirely pleased with himself.

  They made it three streets before the town tilted upward. Helmsworth didn’t sprawl so much as stack. Stone buildings climbed the slope in patient layers, narrow stairways threading between them like afterthoughts. This one rose ahead of them now, worn smooth by centuries of feet, bordered by low walls and overflowing planters.

  Tony stopped.

  Miri took two more steps before she noticed the sudden lack of movement behind her. She turned.

  Tony stood at the base of the stairs, massive shoulders tense, tail low. He stared at the steps like they’d personally offended him.

  “Okay,” Miri said softly. She crouched beside him, resting a hand against the warm, solid curve of his shoulder. He flicked an ear, eyes still locked on the stairs. “They’re just stairs,” she said, mostly for herself. “Stone. Same as the ground. Just… organized differently.”

  Tony sniffed the first step, then drew back, clearly unconvinced.

  Miri smiled. “Hey. Look at me.”

  He didn’t.

  She tried again, gentler. “Tony.”

  That got him. One amber eye slid toward her.

  “I won’t let you get hurt,” she said quietly. “I promise. We’ll take it slow. One at a time.”

  She stepped onto the first stair and held out her hand like an idiot, then laughed under her breath. “You know what I mean.”

  Tony shifted his weight. One enormous paw lifted, hovered, then settled onto the stone. He froze, testing it.

  Nothing happened.

  Miri exhaled. “See? You’re doing great.”

  He tried the second step. Then the third. Halfway up, his confidence wavered. His back legs bunched awkwardly, unsure where to go. He let out a low, frustrated huff.

  “Hey,” Miri murmured, staying close. “It’s okay to look silly while learning.”

  A window above them creaked open.

  “Zig-zag!” an older man called down, leaning out with a grin. “Don’t fight the steps. Take ’em sideways.”

  Miri blinked, then laughed. “Tony, did you hear that?” She showed him with her hands, angling them upward, side to side.

  Tony paused, then shifted his body at an angle. The difference was immediate. His movements smoothed out, strength finding purchase. He climbed the rest of the stairs with growing confidence, tail lifting inch by inch.

  At the top, he turned in a slow circle, clearly proud of himself.

  Miri beamed. “That’s my boy.”

  When she joined him at the top, he butted his head against her demanding praise. She laughed and scratched behind his ear.

  They continued on, Tony taking the next set of stairs without hesitation. She followed the tiger, warmth blooming in her chest as they started to figure each other out. They walked aimlessly for a while after that, taking in the town.

  Stone streets wound upward and sideways. Somewhere above, wind chimes clinked softly, tuned to a scale Miri didn’t recognize but liked anyway. The air smelled like bread and lake water and clean smoke.

  Tony padded along at her side like he’d always belonged there.

  People stared. Then they smiled. Then they went back to what they were doing. It was… nice.

  They were passing a narrow storefront when Tony stopped so abruptly Miri nearly walked into him. He lowered his head, sniffed deeply, and made a sound that was halfway between a rumble and a hopeful question.

  Miri followed his gaze.

  The butcher’s shop was impossible to miss. Thick wooden door thrown open, hooks visible inside, polished counters, the unmistakable smell of fresh-cut meat and sawdust. A hand-painted sign swung gently overhead, depicting a cleaver and a very cheerful pig.

  Tony sat.

  Just. Sat.

  Miri stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”

  His tail flicked once.

  She sighed. “Fine. But we are not stealing.”

  Inside, an orc looked up from the counter and froze. He was a big man with rolled sleeves and forearms like carved stone, cleaver paused mid-motion. His eyes flicked from Miri… to Tony… to the tiger’s very patient, very hopeful face.

  There was a long beat.

  Then the butcher grinned.

  “Well I’ll be,” he said. “You’re the one.”

  Miri blinked. “The… one?”

  “The adventurer,” he clarified, setting the cleaver down carefully. “With the tiger. Heard about your entrance to the tavern at morning rush.”

  Tony leaned forward, sniffed the counter, and sat back again. The butcher laughed. “Polite, too.”

  Miri relaxed. “He hunts for himself, mostly. I just—” she gestured helplessly. “Exist nearby.”

  “Fair arrangement,” the butcher said. He reached under the counter and came back up with a wrapped bundle. “Scraps. Bones. Things that won’t sell but shouldn’t go to waste. You’re welcome to them.”

  Miri hesitated. “I can pay—”

  He waved her off. “Nonsense. Town’s been a little quiet lately. Good to have someone new walking the streets again.”

  Tony sniffed the bundle, then looked up at Miri for approval. She nodded and he accepted it delicately, like it was a sacred offering.

  The orc watched, eyes crinkling. “Send him by anytime. I’ll keep a box set aside.”

  Miri smiled. A real one this time. “Thank you.”

  As they stepped back out into the street, Tony trotted ahead, clearly pleased with his life choices. Miri glanced back once. The butcher was already back to work like nothing about this morning had been strange at all.

  She thought that might be her favorite thing about Helmsworth so far.

  They took a break when they came across a street cart. Miri held five empty sticks, enjoying her meat skewer while Tony licked his face clean.

  An idea floated through her head and she tossed the skewers down on the stone street.

  “Cleanse,” she said.

  Nothing happened. Her skill did not clean up trash. Slightly miffed, she picked them up and tossed them into the small trash can next to the Stab & Grab street cart.

  A small voice piped up behind them. “Is that a tiger?”

  Miri turned. A little girl stood in the middle of the street, maybe six years old, braids slightly crooked, oversized boots, a wooden hoop forgotten at her side. Behind her, a dwarf man with flour on his sleeves and the steady build of someone who lifted heavy things for a living, slowed to a stop.

  He blinked once, slowly. “That is… a very large cat.”

  Tony lifted his head from licking his paw and stared at them.

  The girl stepped forward, but the father put a hand on her shoulder. Not pulling her back, just anchoring her there.

  “Is he mean?” the girl asked.

  “No,” she replied easily. “He’s just big.”

  The girl edged closer. “Can I pet him?”

  Miri didn’t even look at Tony. He lowered his head to the girl’s height without being told.

  The little dwarf girl placed her small hand between his ears. Everyone but Tony jumped a little when he began to purr, low and steady.

  The father exhaled slowly. “Well,” he said. “If he’s going to eat us, he’s certainly taking his time about it.”

  Tony glanced at him with mild disapproval while the girl stroked his fur again, then tilted her head.

  “Can I ride him?”

  The father hesitated, but Miri watched Tony and Tony watched the girl. Then, with deliberate slowness, Tony folded himself down onto his belly.

  Miri’s mouth curved.

  The girl gasped, eyes wide as saucers. She climbed carefully, grabbing fur in both fists, but the tiger did not so much as twitch.

  Once she was settled, Tony rose in one smooth motion. He walked in a slow, perfect circle. Once. Twice. The father walked alongside, hand hovering but not interfering. Tony stopped exactly where he had started and lowered himself again, steady as a carriage settling on its wheels.

  The girl slid off, flushed and grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.

  “You’re the greatest,” she declared solemnly.

  Miri snorted before she could stop herself and Tony’s tail swished in smug approval.

  The dwarf crouched, meeting Tony’s eyes. “Well,” he said quietly. “You’re welcome back anytime.”

  Tony blinked at him as the girl hugged his neck. Tony tolerated it with the gravity of royalty accepting tribute. When they finally stepped back, the little girl waved as if sending off a ship. Tony watched until she disappeared around the corner, then looked up at Miri.

  She shook her head slowly. “You are absolutely going to ruin my life,” she told him fondly.

  Tony stretched, pleased with himself.

  Eventually they found themselves wandering down an alley that opened suddenly into a pocket of sunlight.

  A hidden courtyard.

  Not large. Just enough space for benches, a low fountain shaped like a fish, and an explosion of greenery. Someone had planted herbs between the cobbles. Bees moved lazily between blooms. And in the exact center of it—

  Four completely nude adults stood in a loose circle, eyes closed, faces lifted to the sky.

  Arms spread wide. Sunlight poured over them like they’d scheduled it.

  Miri and Tony both stopped.

  One of the sun-worshippers opened a single eye, saw the tiger, and nodded politely. “Blessings of the radiant sphere,” he intoned with deep seriousness.

  Another one sighed contentedly. “It is a particularly generous morning.”

  Tony stared at them. Then deliberately turned his back. And sat down.

  Miri coughed into her fist. “…We’re just going to keep walking,” she muttered.

  “May your stripes never fade,” one of them called serenely. Tony flicked his tail.

  They left the courtyard and stepped back into the narrow stone street like nothing had happened.

  Miri leaned slightly toward him.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “If you ever decide to join a cult, I’m drawing the line at nudity.”

  Tony bumped her shoulder with his head, which definitely felt like agreement.