Transformed [W&W Book 1]

Chapter 3

Calling Drayton a town seemed to be little more than a euphemism. There was only a small scattering of buildings alongside the road.

Daphne walked towards a building which looked slightly larger than the others. "I'm going to carry you, okay? It'll be weird if you seem too human."

Theresa nodded to show she understood. It was a surprisingly rational thought coming from Daphne.

Her sister swept her up a little more quickly than Theresa liked or thought was necessary.

"Could you stop digging your claws into me?" Daphne asked quietly.

Theresa had not even noticed she was doing it but she thought Daphne might be a bit more careful with her if she did not want Theresa hanging on.

She focused on her claws and paws and was pleased to discover she could consciously retract her claws.

Daphne carried her sister into the inn, which was little more than a house with an extra room. In the light from the candles and the fire everything looked strangely grey and distorted to Theresa's feline eyes.

There was also something of a makeshift tavern at the front where a few men were drinking. They smelled strongly of alcohol and unwashed bodies and Theresa did not know how she would be able to endure it for any length of time.

There was clearly a downside to her improved sense of smell.

She glanced up at her sister. Daphne had her nose wrinkled, but did not seem to be experiencing quite the same odorous discomfort as Theresa.

The tavern maid bore down on them. Theresa tried to look inconspicuous, as if lone high born women usually travelled around with only a feline companion.

"So this is your cat?" she asked loudly and Theresa wondered exactly what Daphne had told the woman.

She tried to accept there was nothing she could do to change it regardless.

"Yes," Daphne agreed. Theresa was comforted Daphne at least had the sense not to go around telling people the cat she carried was her sister.

The tavern maid moved closer.

Theresa wanted to hiss, but she held it back not to draw attention to herself.

The maid smelled, but at least she seemed to keep herself a bit cleaner than the drinking men.

Theresa tried to recall how a cat would normally act in such a situation.

"Her eyes are such an unusual color," she commented.

"Yes, they are," Daphne said. Her expression said all she wanted in the world was to escape to their room.

Theresa felt the exact same discomfort.

"I've never seen bluish purple eyes on a cat. Or on anything, for that matter. What's her name?" asked the woman, reaching out to pet Theresa.

Theresa tried to shrink back so the woman could not reach her. It did not work and Theresa was forced to endure being scratched behind the ears by a complete stranger.

Daphne said quietly, "Her name's Theresa."

"That's an unusual name for a cat," commented the over friendly woman as she continued petting Theresa.

Theresa was mortified to realize it felt rather good.

"She's named Theresa because, uh, after my sister."

"Aw," said the tavern maid sympathetically, obviously assuming something tragic had happened to Daphne's sister.

Her guess was not entirely wrong.