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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Raven Crowking" data-source="post: 2136026" data-attributes="member: 18280">Despite his boasts about cat-napping, Maldordo had been tense and watchful the night before.  They all had.  Catnaps or no, he was tired.  It was perhaps his tiredness that allowed the miller to get so close to him.  Perhaps it was the light wind, preventing the miller's human sweat-and-blood smell from reaching his nostrils.  Either way, the miller saw Maldordo before Maldordo saw the miller.  And the miller was very, very close when it happened."Ho ho!" said the miller, startling Maldordo.  "What have we here?  I'm afraid there's no sausage for you today, my bold Black Tom."  Maldordo turned and saw the miller, not a dozen of the man's paces away, carrying a length of iron with a bent-back hook, looking like nothing so much as a crude harpoon.Maldordo's first instinct was to dart away, cat-like.The miller laughed.  "Did I startle you?  Then we're even, for you startled me the other night."  He patted his pockets, as though looking for something.  Then he pulled out a hunk of pastry.  He squatted, offering a bit to Maldordo in one extended hand.  "Not as good as sausage, no," he said.  He was using a soothing voice.  "But if you stick around, there's rats in the mill enough for you."Incredulously, Maldordo realized that the miller didn't know who he was.  He had seen Maldordo in his cat form before, yes, and heard him speak in the Feline Tongue.  But clearly that seemed like nothing more than mewing to the miller.  The miller knew he was bold, yes.  But the miller did not know the cat he called "Black Tom" was the same being as the man he'd seen at the church.  The miller thought he was an ordinary cat.</blockquote>

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