Sal, Butter and Pepper || ONC2024

Chapter 5: A Choice

Butter finally made it to the summit of Mount Balsh. Amidst meeting and chit-chatting with ants, lizards, and the occasional sparrows, his mind kept returning to how Salvador Hart had treated him. 

Had he misjudged the man? Probably. He didn't understand why his mistress had such low regard for the kind and handsome human. After all, a human who treats animals with kindness can't be that bad, right?

Right. 

Butter was not ungrateful. He vowed that if and when a chance presented itself, he would do everything in his limited capacity to help that jerk… no, Salvador Hart out. The chances of the latter needing him were slim, but, at the moment, that was all he had.

The Woodgrip's familiar ran his eyes over his surroundings. Pine trees stood upright with their heads in the clouds, covering the slope he had walked to get to the top. It reminded him of the beautifully groomed front yards people like Salvador could afford. 

Butter watched the sun kiss the western horizon; everything his green eyes touched was tinted gold. His body stole the heat from the last embers of the fireball burning brightly, nearing the end of its journey for the day. It warmed his heart.

The Woodgrip familiar closed his eyes to commit everything about the moment to memory. At that moment, he knew this was his first and last time here. Something in his brain clicked. The prophecy. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "My Lady, I know what needs to be done. And by Lord Satan, I shall do it, even if it's the last thing I do."

He hadn't found the fountain yet, but that was alright. If he started his journey back to Whistling Greens now, he could get back in time to attend the event The Bolts had organized. Turning his back to the sun, he looked for the path that had led him there. 

Butter spun on his heels. Had his surroundings changed? Gone were the Pine trees and dry patches of grass that took comfort under their shade. The withered yellow leaves that littered the ground had vanished, and the afternoon sun stared at him from the cloudless azure sky. It was like he had traveled to a different place and time in a second's span.

The question was, where was he? 

"Dalton Buttercutter," a deep hypnotic voice said, making Butter's fur stand to attention; with his back arched and tail tucked under his butt, he yowled. While the loud, high-pitched sound left him, his eyes tried to find the source of his fear. 

A gust of wind blew past him. "Did I frighten you, prince?"

Butter recognized the tone. If The Voice wanted to hurt him, they would have done it already; it radiated power. Unbridled power. With all the magic he had acquired over the centuries, he was sure he didn't stand a chance against the possessor of The Voice. He commanded his body to calm-the-heaven down and sat on his hind legs. "For a moment there, yes. But not anymore."

"I am glad."

"Great!"

"So tell me, prince, why did you come here?"

"Madam…Lord..." The Voice was androgynous, leaving Butter confused. "How should I address you, Your Mightiness?" he asked, trying the oldest, most reliable trick he had learned: buttering. 

"Madam will suffice, and so will Sir."

Well, that wasn't helpful in the least, was it? 

"But, you were on the right track with Your Mightiness."

The hint of humor lacing the statement surprised Butter. It helped revive his almost-dead confidence level. With his front paws facing the entity, he bowed. "I was a prince for sixteen years, Your Mightiness, but I have been a kitten for four hundred. If you don't mind, can Your Mightiness please call me Butter. My old name's a reminder of the lies I grew up hearing."