PA 3.5: End of a Tail

Chapter XII Part I

Slowly but surely, the sensation of cool, stale air filling Dell's lungs was the thing that began to stir her from her lack of consciousness. She felt it before her eyes jolted open, and she sucked in a wheezing gasp as her pupils adjusted to the room around her. She was in a cold, damp cellar somewhere underground, with a single crummy lightbulb illuminating the chiselled rectangular room's walls and occupants. Immediately, she noted the presence of grain bags, barrels, a metal shelf, and cabinet alongside the wall to the left of the imposing stone staircase, while a table was to the right of her, carrying a bevy of half-baked potions and supplies, though it was missing its chair.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake," came the underwhelmed voice of a figure sitting on an oak chair adjacent to the door. Dell hardly noticed them before because of the lack of light, but the cat immediately seemed familiar.

"Oh shit!" Dell hissed.

She quickly turned away from the pink-haired siamese and pressed her forehead against the floor, using it instead of her bound arms to raise herself to her knees.

A sigh came from the cat. "I'm not going to hurt you, so please, don't make me have to concentrate on holding you in place," they said, turning their eyes to the side and leaning back to emphasize how casually Dell could be made helpless.

Despite the threat, Dell got up onto her feet and already began to struggle against her bonds, desperately looking around for something to cut the inch-thick rope in the room. Immediately her eyes darted to one of the potion bottles- if she could shatter it, she'd have a weapon to protect herself with.

Mitt frowned. "Don't." They were anything but oblivious to the terrier's mindset, and the last thing they wanted was another sharp object held to their throat. Mitt drew Whisk's wand to add to the intimidation, which seemed to work as Dell paused - mid lunge towards the table - to stare at the cat in apprehension.

The cat grumbled, letting the weapon hang in the air as they shut their eyes and mumbled under their breath.

Dell frowned, though the edges of her mouth curled wickedly just a moment later. "If you want your wand, I don't have it," she said, like losing it was a victory.

"No duh. I have eyes." Mitt shook their head almost in disappointment. "The reason why I'm babysitting you is because it was either me, or Coco, and I know you wouldn't appreciate being in the same room as her."

"What? How do you know?"

Mitt looked unamused, almost nervously chuckling. "You put a knife to my throat when I didn't immediately hate her, remember?" Mitt shrugged. "I... must admit, I wasn't expecting it, but I love the... decisiveness." They smiled at Dell, wearing the kindest face they could muster. "I understand why you're doing what you're doing, and why you hate her, but I don't think killing her is going to help you much at all."

"What?! If you get it then why are you helping her?!" Dell barked out, then quickly remembered something important, changing her tone instantly to be as soft and shy as ever, "Oh uh, also, where's my inhaler?"

"Hah," Mitt looked to the side, smiling, "what, you gonna die if you don't get it?" they asked, running their paw through their hair.

Dell looked at them, stone-faced. "Yes."

Mitt's face didn't change. "Well, don't worry... It's in my pocket, and we grabbed a spare from your bathroom." They stopped running a paw through their hair and used the appendage to brace themself against the chair instead, rising off of it and displaying their tall stature to the shorter dog. "Besides, you have a lot more to worry about right now," they said with a strained smile, contrasting their otherwise calm features.