A/N: I randomly wrote another POV drabble. This time from Ser Pounce-a-Lot! I got the idea when I was thinking, for a cat, seven years must be very long. I wrote this in one sitting so please excuse the rushed pacing, incorrect spelling/grammar, and blatant cheese.

-o-

He will come back.

I do not know why he left me with this servant but he will come back. I pace the cold stone floors, longing for his warmth but unable to find him. I settle for a meagre sunbeam illuminating through a dusty window. But it is not warm enough. Not warm like him.

The servant attempts to trap me inside but I am too clever for such clumsy attempts. I leap easily onto a nearby chair, then the table, then a cupboard and from there I access the high wooden beams. With flawless grace I exit through an opened window and feel the high winds catch against my face.

He should be back by now, shouldn't he? Why hasn't he come for me? Where is he? I throw these questions into the howling wind but no answers come. Typical. I must find my own I decide and nimbly scramble down the servant's haphazard roof. I hear the servant calling me but I ignore it, focusing solely on my destination. I dodge tromping feet and wayward hands until at last I see the stone building. A few mabari turn my way as I hasten my way inside – so many unfamiliar faces now.

I dart up cold, stone steps as memory speeds me on. Finally I come to his door, and wonder again why it is shut; why he left me with the servant. Undeterred, I scratch insistently on his door and when no reply comes I shout demands at the unmoving slab. As I scratch and shout again, I begin pacing and in my heart my worry grows. Perhaps he is not in his room? Of late, he had often taken to speaking to the one that smelt of death and the Strange.

Frantically, I abandon my attempts at the door and barrel my way to the upper battlements. A few black ravens sit, watching me with unkind eyes, as I streak across the stone walkway. But as I round the corner I spy only two empty chairs, facing the open sea. My heart sinks but I refuse to relent.

Stiffly, I wander back to his room, my mind swimming. I do not know where he has gone. But I know he will return. He wouldn't have just left me.

Would he?

Night falls and I keep to the shadows. Why had they been so disrespectful? I had wanted to continue waiting by his door but when I was seen, ungentle hands had seized me, followed by angry words and loud boots. I had escaped from their grasp by the flicker of my tail and the slicing of my claws. What was going on? None had treated me so ill when he was around. I had to find him again.

So I take a tentative step out of the darkness, my ears straining for the telltale signs of heavy footfalls. I hear them a distance away and make my hurried dash forward. In one precise jump, I land onto a barrel, then up onto the wood shed, then the upper roofing. My eyes piece the midnight blackness, keenly mapping out my intended path. Finally I reach a window, his window. And glories upon glories, it is ajar.

It is a challenge, even for me, to squeeze through the tiny space but I manage. With a rather undignified 'pop', I push myself through and land quietly onto the cold floor. It is a wonder and a comfort when I take a breath. Oh, this room still smells of him, but it is so very faint now. I leap onto his unmade bed, where the smell is strongest and lay myself onto the cold, cold mattress. I breath in his scent, and again I am struck hard: Where is he?

Today they emptied his room and I was powerless to stop them. Bed sheets, books, clothes, even the carpet had been stripped bare from his room. Men in heavy armour had entered, shifting through his things before casting them aside with disdain.

Now I hide, watching as they threw miscellaneous items into an awaiting cart. I see them enter the other room too, I follow them, watching them from the upper windows. They close in on what seems to be a ring, its Strange blue glow flickering dangerously. I wonder why they do not sense it, as I watch one foolishly try to pick it up. Then, there is a commotion outside the room, and the intruding men turn. I cannot see what happens outside the room in the hallway but the loud noises hurt my ears. They grow even more savage, like two hissing fools, and suddenly I hear the crack of a punch and someone goes flying back into the room, right into the table. Furniture is upturned as the scuffle breaks into the room. I watch the Strange ring tumble into the dark space under the cupboard.

Abruptly, familiar voices intermingle the screeching and I perk my ears in interest. I peer through the window again and catch the whiff of someone I know. They argue loudly until another one enters. This one is unfamiliar and occupies the room formerly inhabited by Ser Jowan's master. They too, have gone but at least Ser Jowan wished me farewell.

I do not like this new master, who cuts down those whom I know and sends them away. The armoured ones go back to their work and I do not wish to see anymore.

His room is bare and stinks of false scents. I can no longer smell him. There is nothing of him here. Nothing for me here.

I return to the servant who has the gall to scold me. But I am too weary and simply accept the scraps given to me.

His room may be gone. But I know he will return. He will.

Days like these I feel my age creep upon me. I am not yet so old that I cannot defend my territory, but each battle tugs at my heart, and my muscles.

I sit before my children, as I regale tales of my battle with the Deep Ones. I try to impress upon them dangers that they will probably never see for they owe respect to those who had faced them.

One child scoffs, determined to be forever aloof with the mabari that live in the stone castle.

Mabari are stupid. He declares with all the arrogance of youth. The drool all over themselves.

The mabari are a noble and valiant race. Many fought in the war with the Deep Ones and you will honour them the respect they deserve. I tell him, glaring hard. I knew a mabari once and he was courageous.

I think about Ser Jowan, how he had been wounded and near death. He had been saved by his second master, and though he rarely spoke of it, I believe he always bore guilt of having survived his first. Mabari bonded for life, he had told me once, for no mabari ever outlived their master. Circumstances like his were not impossible, but they were rare and survivors were always left with a lingering gap where their first bond had dwelled. And in Ser Jowan, it had only made him twice more protective over his new master, determined to defend this one to his dying breath. His heart would probably not survive a second break.

As for me, I do not know if I will survive this first. I watch my children scamper away, their lives ahead of them and having little concern for mine.

I miss Ser Jowan. But most of all I miss him. When will he return for me? When?

This morning I tried to jump up a chair but instead stumbled and fell. Still on my feet but I was momentarily disorientated. I believe I am getting fat. Or at the very least, I am not as lean as I used to be. Age is catching up to me and though I am still swiftly ahead, I cannot deny I will be able to outpace it forever.

I jump again, and this time is it flawless. I exit the servant's roof and watch the sea again. I will not be young forever and can only hope I will still be around when he returns.

I am cold. Always too cold now but I coil in whatever sunbeam I can find. Kittens dance and leap before me and I look away. Their youthful energy makes me feel old and fat.

Suddenly my ears twitch, and I smell someone very familiar on the wind. I sit up, keen eyes taking in the lumbering mass rounding the corner. The kittens watch the approaching mabari with open curiosity before their mothers shoo them inside.

Vicious scars trail across his face and back as the huge mabari offers me a lop-sided grin. Hah, I thought I smelled a familiar scent. Well met, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot.

Ser Jowan? I ask dumbly, before catching myself. Greetings old friend, what… what brings you here? Have you and your master returned?

Ser Jowan sits down before me, his tail thumping eagerly but I had known him long enough to know that it was a sign of peace and happiness, not aggression. Alas not. We are simply passing through, gathering some supplies we had missed before moving on.

I should ask him. Every fibre in my being is demanding it but I cannot voice it. Instead I hear myself asking unimportant things. You are not staying? Where are you going?

He licks his face and jerks his head towards the stone castle. This is not home anymore, as much as I can understand my master's mind. And there is something else going on. Another plot to uncover, another battle to be fought.

I see. It is all I can say.

He looks at me suddenly and there is a strange expression on his mabari face. You could come with us you know. He begins tentatively, though his eyes wander to the kittens that have determinedly insisted on watching us. But I understand if you wish to stay with your family.

I laugh, shaking my head ruefully. You do not know much of my people if you think I hold much sway over their lives. My children want little to do with an old fool who lingers on the past.

Ser Jowan pulls back, looking affronted. You are not that old! He tells me. Glancing at the kittens he adds: Your children seem curious right now.

Grandchildren I correct him, watching with repressed amusement as his eyes widen.

He does another doubletake at the kittens before joining in our morbid laughter. Deep One's blood. We're not that old are we?

I hope you do not find offence if I do not wish to respond to that. I laugh, feeling a lightness I haven't felt in years. But it is a brief thing as I feel a painful tightness return. But all jesting aside, I must turn down your offer, friend. I cannot leave for… other reasons.

Again, that odd look returns and he regards me with an intensity I find disquieting. Did you lose something?

What an odd turn of phrase. I shake my head, confused and a little wary now. Lose? No. Not quite. But I am waiting for someone. I'm sorry but I can't leave until he returns.

Ser Jowan hums with a thoughtful expression, his head cocking to the side as if hearing something. So if we found him, would you come with us?

I twitch my tail in irritation. I told you, I didn't lose him. He left m—And suddenly I hear it.

.

.

"Pounce!"

I lurch to my feet. No. No it can't be. Yes. Yes it is.

"Pounce?"

Ser Jowan lazily rises to his own feet as well. My master is very apt at finding lost things and well, guess what he found on his way here?

I don't think I can breathe. I can't even move. I just stand there, gawking as I hear footfalls coming closer and closer.

And then I see him. Hair wild, his scent both painfully familiar yet so very different. He stops dead in his tracks, glancing down at me from the stone archway. "Pounce…" he all but whispers.

I barely notice Ser Jowan's master hurry to his side, panting. "Oh look, Ser Jowan found him. Good boy!"

But I think neither of us hear him, we are both just staring at each other. He came back… h-he came back! And as sudden as my joy I am filled with angry accusation. Seven years. Seven years! I wanted to scream. Where were you for those seven years?

But I find myself breaking into a mad run, emotions tearing at me each and every way. And the sight of me is all he needs. He leaps over the archway, probably scrapping his knees badly but he ignores it. We both can't seem to run fast enough, everything is getting in our way but then… then…

Long, recognisable hands latch onto me and hoist me high into the air. I am soaring, I am flying. I am crushed into his embrace as I rub my head contentedly into his chin. Fingers tremble frantically against my back, curling deep into my fur. He is shaking so much, I am almost dislodged. He whispers my name, over and over and I press my head firmer into his face. He came back.

After what seemed like forever, he finally pulls away, gingerly twisting me towards someone, who had come to stand beside us. "Hawke… I'd like you to meet Ser Pounce-A-Lot. Ser Pounce-A-Lot, this is Hawke,"

"Pleased to meet you, serrah," this 'Hawke' says, hesitantly offering a hand for me to sniff. "I've heard so much about you."

I regard this new servant with mixed feeling. Too much mabari odour for my liking but humble enough in my presence I suppose. I voice my tentative approval.

"Aww, he likes you,"

Then Ser Jowan's master approaches us, waving urgently. "Alright, let us leave before our presence is noticed. I really don't want the headache of explaining why I'm sneaking two wanted fugitives around—" I tune him out, no longer interested in the discussion. I curl myself deeper, basking in the warm, warm feel of a long due embrace.

Sleepily, I hear voices continue on. "So are we good to go?"

"… I wonder if we can find Justice's old lyrium ring,"

"Where did you last leave it?"

There is a shift and I drowsily smell the Strange. "In the Keep."

There is a long pause next. Then I hear Ser Jowan's master's voice wail. "Why do you do these things to me. WHY?"

This time I tune them out for good. It does not concern me. All that matter is that for the first time in years, I am warm again. And I am with Anders.

Because he came back.

-Fin-