a lot of people will look at you
Aria
Aria padded along at his side, paws silent against the uneven boards of the raised street. Her coat caught the light like fresh snow, too bright against the dark planks and fish-oil puddles. He didn’t leash her—usually didn't—but his hand reached out to brush her shoulder every now and then, or he'd murmur something to her; little reminders, small praises to stay close. She was learning, slowly. Her eyes flicked up to him often, eager, curious, unafraid. He’d earned her attention. What he hadn’t yet earned, he suspected, was her trust.
“Keep this up, there might be a fish in it for you,” he told her, voice low enough to vanish beneath the crowd noise. She squeaked back up at him with a curious wave of her tail. A nearby merchant shouted about his catch, a few sailors were laughing loudly, gulls wheeled and argued overhead. Ordinary day here. He adjusted the strap of his pack and moved toward the market proper, Aria’s tail swaying like a white pennant beside his heel.
That’s when a bark cut through everything else. Damien turned his head in the direction.
On the corner, a stray hound was begging for scraps, ribs showing beneath its fur. Everyone else was shooing it away. Aria paused, ears pricking toward it. Damien saw it at once, knew what she was doing; the tilt of her head, the small curious chuff she made. “No,” he said, already stepping forth to stop her, but she was quicker and thought she knew better. She bounded away with a kitten’s thoughtless confidence, chirping as if greeting an old friend.
“Aria, come here—”
The hound spun, hackles raising, and the street erupted.
Clearly, it didn’t share Aria’s friendly streak. The instant its gaze locked on the oversized kitten it stiffened, lips curling back in a low, ugly snarl.
Aria froze, ears flat, then thought better of it. Her back arched, fur puffed to twice her size, but the hound came on anyway, claws skittering on the boards. With a burst of panic, she bolted—a spotted, white blur against the dark street—as the dog crashed through a row of fish crates in pursuit. The merchant cried out about his lost catches.
"Shit," Damien swore under his breath and ran, boots pounding after them. For now, all he could do was keep them in sight and pray the cub was faster than the dog.
Damien
but only a few will see you
