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Black tinted fingers ran along the head of the cat, and a soft purr was induced by the petting. Hickory had become quite the family member in Alder's small family. Hawthorn loved him just as much as the cat loved the ginormous Shire stallion. Alder could often find the kitten in the horse's feed bay, snuggled in the dry hay, and far from bothered by the horse who only nosed him gently. He traveled back to the cabin with Alder as well, and slept by the fire each night.
Tranquility turned to chaos in an instant, at at the bark the cat awoke from it's daze and scrambled to the wolf's shoulder. Alder halted in his step and before he could react there was a pup standing before him. He could recognize the young wolf as the King's son, but his breath was taken from him. The needle like claws had dug into his arm and shoulder, and the cat had the first word. He howled, and gave a enthusiastic hiss towards the rambunctious puppy.
Alder did not attempt to remove the cat from his shoulder, it was wide enough for the nimble creature to balance easily. Skoll. He spoke, rubbing the arm that had been pierced by the miniscule daggers. This cat is a friend. He tried to explain to the puppy. He placed a hand out in front of him to affirm that it was space and respect that the little creature deserved.
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