It's a cool, moonless night, and the stars are shining dutifully above as Faust makes his way across the magic headquarters’ courtyard. Still full from the dinner Nero cooked, and pleasantly exhausted from the lively mealtime conversation, he walks slowly, his cloak billowing out behind him as a breeze catches it and tugs with inquisitive fingers. In some ways, Faust prefers the atmosphere of his little house in Eastern Country, misses the wary rustling of the tree canopy overhead, the birdsong and bug chatter, rays of sun strolling idly down to the forest floor until they cast more shadow than light. But he can’t deny that being back in Central does something for him, too. It feels like he draws breath not just to sustain himself but to speak guidance, to stand proud. Even if now, all he wants is to curl up and sleep it off.

The courtyard is quieter than Faust’s house in the woods, but the pulse of life beats here too, in the far-off sound of a harpsichord, the ever-present humming of crickets. As Faust walks through the yard, the bushes rustle in a soft echo of the huge trees of the Valley of Storms, and something out in the grass meows, just like back in the...

Faust alerts, his heartbeat picking up in his chest. He scans the grass with closer interest, eyes narrowed as if that will help him see in the darkness. The grass is too short to move much with the breeze, but even the little motion it does have is enough to obscure any movements of creatures within it.

Well, Faust has more senses than just those. He reaches out with his magic instead, searching. If he was any other wizard, he might struggle to parse all the different living beings in the field before him — but Faust, for better or worse, spent quite a lot of time in the Valley of Storms befriending the stray cats that wandered among the trees, to the point where he has little trouble recognizing the shape and feel of a cat even amongst all the rest of the feedback.

And so, he identifies four shapes in the grass. Three small, one larger, though not by much. Four kittens — a young mother and her litter.

Faust’s heart is beating in his throat. He wants desperately to go meet the little cat family — more than that (no, if he’s being honest, about the same amount), he has to make sure they’re safe. No one at the magic headquarters would harm kittens (no matter how weird some of the Northern wizards are), but there are dangers in the world, a world so huge to a tiny kitten. Faust wonders how old this litter is, pictures their tiny fuzzball heads and triangle tails, and then shuts that line of thought down. Best to stay focused.

There’s no one else around, as far as any of his senses can discern. He also doesn’t have any treats or foods in his pockets to charm the kittens with. If the Sage were around with their pockets always stocked with cat treats, this would not be an issue. Even Leno, who often has little snacks for his sheep... Though cats and sheep have quite different diets, the smell could still entice the kittens closer... He pauses, and recites his spell under his breath to conjure a few pieces of dried fish. That should do for now.

Faust takes a deep breath, and starts to walk towards where he senses the cats. It’s about thirty feet from the courtyard’s edge. Maybe the cats were attracted to the lights of the headquarters; maybe they could even smell the meat Nero cooked for dinner. Faust continues to reach out with his magic until he’s within about ten feet of the cats, and then he squints in the darkness, trying to catch sight of them. He can tell they’re still there; he’d know if they’d run.

It takes a few moments, and Faust breathes as quietly as he can in the cold night air, consciously relaxes his muscles, and waits. And then he spots a rustle in the grass, and two big eyes pop up, catching the light of the stars and gleaming like a beacon. It must be one of the little kittens, Faust guesses. It’s hard to make out color in the dark, even though he’s so much closer now. The kitten doesn’t seem fazed by Faust, though it can surely see him; in fact, it lifts its head and then its big eyes narrow as it sniffs the air, and then opens its mouth wide in a big yawn.

Thoroughly charmed, Faust inches closer, wary of the way the grass crinkles under his feet. The kitten shuts its mouth and stares right at Faust, growing alert. As Faust grows closer, he’s able to make out brown tabby stripes on its face and back, and white-tufted ears. Now a mere five feet away, Faust slowly sinks down to a crouch. The kitten shows no signs of alarm, just continues to watch Faust.

The other kittens must still be nearby, and as Faust scans the grass around them, he spots a little white tailtip, then another striped tabby back - bigger, so that must be the mom. After a moment, he sees a second little white kitten wriggle its way out from under her, and begin to tussle with its sibling. Faust’s heart sings. He’s close enough now to see all of the cats fairly well, enough to note that the kittens look maybe a few weeks old, all round and healthy with perfect little triangle tails, and the mama cat looks healthy too, easily rolling over to let the kittens nurse. She's a tabby, with white paws and a white chin, and her gold eyes are half-lidded but fixed on Faust, letting him know that he’s only made it this close because she’s allowed it. Faust is grateful for her trust; he’s certainly much cagier around strangers.

Then he remembers the dried fish in his hands. The kittens look to be too little for solid food, but the mom might appreciate the snack - Faust extends his arm slowly and offers the fish for her to sniff. Her eyes open properly and she leans forward, stretching her neck so she can assess Faust’s offering. Evidently she likes what she finds, because she stands up suddenly, dislodging the other white kitten who had approached her to nurse. Faust swallows a laugh, carefully keeping his hand steady. The mama cat steps toward Faust, with a casual air as if she’s simply on a stroll through the yard, and sniffs his hand again, now close enough for her whiskers to tickle Faust’s fingertips. Faust holds his breath. The mama cat opens her mouth and attempts to bite delicately at the fish, but doesn’t grip it hard enough, and comes away with nothing. She flicks her eyes up to Faust’s face, as if to say, You tricked me.

“My mistake,” Faust murmurs to her. She doesn’t startle at the sound of his voice, merely looks at him. Faust repositions the fish in his hand, and holds his palm out to her. This time she goes in more confidently, and acquires two whole dried fish with a little hmpf sound. Faust watches her chew them enthusiastically, and wonders if this is how Nero feels watching Riquet chow down on his cooking.

One of the kittens, the little tabby that Faust spotted first, approaches, sniffing at the air curiously. Faust offers this kitten the remaining dried fish in his hand, and it sniffs it a few times and then drags it onto the ground with its teeth. From here, it seems to have no idea what to do with it, and quickly bores of trying to decipher it and runs back over to its siblings. The mama cat, having finished the first two fish, bends and gulps down the third.

Faust’s knees and back are beginning to protest his crouched position. The grass ripples around him, suggesting it might swallow these kittens up again if he leaves. He wants to see them again, so badly - maybe even enough that he’d put his pride on the line and start questioning the manor’s other occupants as to whether they’ve met these cats before, and if Faust could maybe come with them when they feed them… At least the Sage would be a safe place to start.

Just as he’s mentally saying his goodbyes, the mama cat approaches Faust again. She sniffs at his knees and the edges of his cloak, and Faust tries not to breathe, in case it might startle her into disappearing. She looks up at him, curious, and then rubs her head against one of his legs.

Faust could cry. Slowly, he extends his hand again, and places trembling fingers on top of the mama cat’s head. She butts her head up against his hand, demanding that he pet her. He gives her a few careful pats, scratches behind her ears (the insides of which could use a cleaning…), and then offers her his hand again, checking in - Do you want more pets, or is this enough?

Her tail swishes a few times, and she steps back. So a few pets in exchange for dried fish was her bargain. Faust is content with this. He gets to his feet with a barely-suppressed groan, which the cats seem to pay no mind to. From his full height, it’s a little difficult to make out all four cats in the grass, but he can make out the mama cat returning to her kittens a few feet away, and easily hears the kittens accost her with quiet, shrill meows. Faust wishes he could bottle up the sounds to play for himself on a rainy day. It's like instant comfort.

The encounter seems to be over, and after lingering for a few more indulgent moments, Faust makes a quiet retreat back across the yard. The grass sways in the breeze, the stars glimmer up above, and Faust feels warmed to his core. He’ll spend the whole rest of the evening distracted by images of little kittens with bright eyes and swishing tails, and in the morning he’ll muster up the courage to ask the Sage if she knows about the kittens.

The whole thing fills him with more excitement than he thinks his body can contain.