Jellicle cats

Nothing quite rankled the Archer-Lyall like the stink of cat piss in the morning. She knew it wasn’t Natha, the Lieutenant was far too respectable for that sort of carry on. This was an ammonia laden slap in the face for the wolves of the Armada and she was sleep deprived and sore enough still, to take personal offence. Of course she wasn’t going to be completely foolish about it. Even without the scabbed over flesh on her shoulder and across her right eye, she knew she’d never quite be quick enough to take on a cat alone, (mountain lion if her nose wasn’t making a fool of her). Scary things they were, or would be, if she wasn’t in such a foul mood to start. She howled long and low for any that might want to join her, daring to hope it might be Asla that answered her call. There was a cat nearby, and she meant to flush it out.

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