Who? | The Dhampir (Book Two)

IX

George

"Tuna?" I ask.

"Yeah," Clarkson nods. "He's not here," he says and looks around.

"Tunaaaa!" I yell.

"Where could he be?" Clarkson mutters. "You're cat is really...something."

"What!?" I glare at him.

"I'm just sharing my opinion about him, George," Clarkson calmly explains. "I told you to wear your coat," he nags.

"Where on earth is–"

"Meow," my words are cut by a familiar sound.

"It's-It's Tuna! None of you owns a cat, right? I'm sure it's him," I quickly scan the surroundings. "You can hear where he is, right?"

"Yes, he's this way," Clarkson starts walking to where the cat is.

"Wait for me!" I roll the sleeves of my white-and-blue striped pajamas. I catch up with his pace. We have been looking for the cat for almost an hour. Finally, I can rest and sleep.

"Where is he?" I breathe out.

"Up there," he points to the cliff.

"Up there? Why is he up there?" I ask worriedly.

"I don't know, Georgina. I'm not a cat."

We go up to the wooden staircase. The cat sits down as if he's waiting for us.

"See? He's a good kitty," I tell Clarkson in a convincing voice.

"If he is, we won't be here, looking for him," he fires back.

"Meow," Mr. Tuna greets us while cleaning his paw.

"Come here, Tuna. Let's go back," I coo.

"Meow."

"Yes, yes," I say while nodding. "Meow. Let's go," I say while walking. "We should rest—No!"

The cat runs upstairs. I run to catch him. He continues to climb up the stairs. I stop and take a deep breath.

"Hah, he's faster than I thought." I look around and see the beautiful sky. It's a bit cloudy, but the view of the villagers dancing around the bonfire makes the scenery perfect.

"Wow," I mumble. "I can see the whole village here!"