Paws of Destiny - Book One

I

I

The sun shone through an open window as a tom walked into a bar. He had short, torn ears and several scars along his face and pelt. He had blue-gray fur and ducked behind the counter, scanning all of the glasses to make sure that all of them had dried overnight.

The sky outside shone beautifully in the nice new day, but the blue-gray cat didn't care for it. He shut the window and began drying the glasses that still had water clinging to them, and it didn't take him long.

The bell rung as a group of cats strolled into the bar, hiccuping. They had very clearly been intoxicated and had likely been kicked out of the bar nearby. The blue-gray cat sighed and looked up as the bell rung again. One of the regulars strolled up to the counter.

"Good morning, Polaris." The ginger tom yawned and sat down at the counter, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Polaris huffed. "'Morning, Blaze."

Blaze was an old friend of Polaris, since the tom had been a soldier. Of course, Blaze had been a healer, but he still recalled many times visiting the friendly tomcat's station to get his wounds checked.

"How are you today?" Blaze tapped the counter with his paw in a repeated motion. Polaris put up the last glass. "The day just started, there's not really any way I could know."

Blaze shrugged, but his reply was drowned out by the slurred chatter of the cats at the counter.

"I hate all of these four-drinks-per-cat rules!" One of them banged a paw on the table. "This sucks!"

"Better than when Candle was around." Another one hiccuped. "Remember how strict he was? 'Uhh, no risks, no danger, no fun, uhh!'"

Blaze frowned at them and Polaris found himself scowling. He pinned his ears and tried to block them out. One of the other bartenders slipped out of the side room where she lived; instead of paying rent, she worked for the bar. The brown mollie sighed and eyed the roudy group.

"Aye!" The third cat, a pompous gray tom-cat, called to Polaris. "Pour me a drink, would you? This toast's to the dumb fool dead!"

"Now, listen here." Polaris rounded on them, his dark blue eyes narrowed in contempt, "You had better check yourself before you wreck yourself. Candle was a brilliant leader and it'd do your ungrateful asses good to know it. I-"

"Polaris!" The blue-gray tomcat sighed as he heard Sibber's call from across the room. The pale ginger tom frowned at him and beckoned him over with his tail. The mollie rushed over to the group, eyes wide. "I-I'm sorry for him, what would you like?"

Polaris pinned his ears as he trudged over to where Sibber stood. He frowned. "Polaris, you're one of my most hard-working employees, and I know this."

"I'm sensing a 'but'..." Polaris sighed.

"But you can't keep chasing off customers." Sibber sighed. "You're too aggressive. I need you to at least try to be friendly. I don't want to fire you, but I can't tank my entire bar because I don't want to get rid of one cat."

Polaris scowled and looked away. "I understand." He wasn't actually planning to follow that rule, but he had to tread carefully. Bartending was the only real job that Polaris could get, since he was too old to really get any other job. At thirty-six moons, the veteran was out of options. He sighed and returned to his post.

++++

A pale brown tabby tomcat shuffled through his things until he finally found what he was looking for; a chamomile leaf. He started to boil it while a brown tabby settled behind him.

"'Morning, Fyllo." The tom called sleepily. His old whiskers twitched as Fyllo jumped and turned. "Oh! Hello, Timber. How are you?"

Timber was a very old cat, far older than Fyllo. Of course, his name wasn't Timber, but nobody knew what it was. They simply called him 'Timber' because it's what every-cat had called the last time someone messed with him.