Getting a letter marked URGENT: TIME SENSITIVE CONTENTS from her landlord was particularly noteworthy.
Anna tucked her glasses into her pocket and began to read the letter, printed on some kind of uneven typeset, but signed in Mr. Dunworth’s usual haphazard scrawl:
I regret to inform you that the house you are currently renting is set to be condemned in approximately one month’s time. Four houses in our rental system are located on the canal district near where the new Stormwind Harbor is being constructed. All houses will be destroyed as the canal is opened up into the new harbor.
You have until September 1st to vacate yourself and all belongings from the property. We are sorry, but our other housing options are currently full and we cannot accommodate you at this time.
She sighed, shoulders slumping. She’d only just found the house, small though it was, a few months ago, and the prospect of packing up and moving again wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. Tucking the letter into her bag, she put her glasses back on and headed off towards what soon wouldn’t be home anymore.
The little house was exactly as she’d left it – tidy enough, and the rain had kept the windowbox flowers blooming well through the summer. A cursory look over the inside suggested that packing up probably wouldn’t take long. Her bookshelves hadn’t recovered from the break-in in Old Town yet, and the herbs were easy to pack up.
Sighing again and not having the heart to start looking for a new place, she went to sit out by the bridge, watching various construction workers bustle back and forth towards the soon-to-be-demolished wall.
Then something caught her ear.
It wasn’t much of a noise – a tiny squeaking sound coming from somewhere below her. Which was odd, considering she was sitting on a bench, and the only thing below her was water.
Peering over the edge of the railing, it took her several minutes to see the source of the squeaking, particularly with the glare from the late afternoon sunlight. But sure enough, there in the water, paddling with all its tiny little might was a kitten.
Quickly flooding her shoes with Light, Anna hopped off the bridge and hovered over to where the tiny, bedraggled furball was attempting to claw its way up the side of the canal wall. She scooped it up, wrapping it in a piece of netherweave from her bag and clambering back up over the railing.
The kitten looked to be about 2 months old; tiny, but not so tiny as to be unable to survive without its mother. His mother, as it were. His bright orange fur was sticking up in points where she’d gotten him dried off, and he looked quite comical. Other than the construction workers, the rest of her little street was deserted.
Anna sneezed again, eyes watering.
Tucking him (protesting loudly) into her bag, she went back to the house, digging through her various boxes of herbs for a small bottle she’d prepared quite a long time ago. She hastily measured out and swallowed a capful of the bitter liquid, making a mental note to brew up some more of the allergy remedy. It was surprisingly effective for being quite simple to make.
The kitten pawed its way out of her bag and pranced over to where she was standing in the kitchen.
You… she said, looking down at him. You are going to be a lot of trouble until we find out who you belong to, aren’t you?
The kitten mewed, and then pounced on an imaginary something under one of the cabinets.
I guess both of us are looking for a new home now, huh?
Anna Note: I live south of Houston, TX and am currently facing Tropical Storm/Hurricane Edouard. I won’t be blogging tomorrow, but I’ve lined up a little something to cover my absence. See you guys later this week!
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