It was rare for a mage to have anything to call their own, whether it be friends or possessions, and gifts were not something that most of them were ever given at all. Especially not a gift like this; a pet, a kitten. Anders had never heard of a mage with a pet, before.
Oh, he had loved Mister Wiggums in the tower, the way someone like him could not help but love a grumpy cat, and the way one loves the only company, the only visitor, one has for months. But this was different. He was different. Because Ser Pounce-a-lot was his very own, his first true gift to keep since his powers had manifested. And he was not a thing, not a possession, but a friend. A friend that he would not have to fear any templars threatening or tearing from him.
He was a cat, yes, and it was true they had not known each other for long, but Pounce was definitely his friend. He could feel it from the playful way he batted at his arm protectors, the way he nibbled at his fingers without truly biting, how the big dark eyes seemed to understand what he was saying. Anders had felt something, the first time the kitten had been placed in his arms. It was not something he could explain to the other wardens, not even the Commander herself, even though she seemed to understand quite a lot, in her own silent way.
He was finding it difficult in general to explain things to others, to talk with them at all. It was as if he had somehow forgotten how it was done; he had been in solitary for so long, and after his release he had simply clung to Karl until he was transferred to another Circle. Then he ran, and there was not much company to be found while on the run, especially with a Blight going on. The days had been filled with such fear and loneliness, but now that he finally had the company of people again, he hardly knew what to make of it all. How were conversations best started, and how did you keep them going? What kind of things were appropriate to bring up, and which subjects should be avoided? Even speaking, simply keeping focus on not being too loud or sounding too nervous was more difficult than it should be, and he constantly had to remind himself to not stand too close, or too far away, to not seem as out of place as he felt.
Pounce did not care about any of that. Anders could curl up comfortably with him and speak in as low a voice as he wished, as long as he kept the pets and belly rubs coming. And Pounce clearly listened to him, without getting annoyed when he forgot how to say things in the right way, never turning him away. He could start with once upon a time, there was a mage locked up in a terrible tower, telling a story instead of outright speaking of bad memories, and Pounce did not laugh. The story was no longer about being locked up, though, tragedy having turned adventure instead. Anders had not exactly wanted to become a Grey Warden, but it was better than the tower, and definitely better than being hanged or made tranquil. He had escaped the Circle for good this time, and he had a friend, something he had not had since Karl was sent away.
It would be safe to write him a letter, now. To let him know that he had gotten away at last, and was not alone anymore.