Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft

The humans on the docks bustled about in the early morning light. Rough voices shouted harsh words to one another, hurting his sensitive ears. He laid them flat against his head as he bunched himself up against a vendor's stall, tail wrapping itself around his paws. He watched the humans walk to and fro, carrying things of all shapes, sizes and smells. One smell caught his attention and his whiskers jerked forward, eyes scanning the crowd of people. He sniffled the air, opened his mouth slightly to analyze the scent better. He found it.

Fish.

He watched the human carry the net full of silvery fish to a stay across the muddy road. He couldn't let the humans catch on to his plot so he busied himself with cleaning his paw, pulling at the dirt beneath his claws. He shook his head as he flicked his tongue out to dislodge the grime. It didn't taste like food. His coat was also in disarray, and he ran a few quick licks down either side in an effort to make it lie flat. It refused, damp from the early morning rain. Oh well, he'll give himself a proper grooming once he returned to his nest.

He arched his back, yawning to show off his fangs, stretching to reveal his claws; he began to walk at a lazy pace towards the fisherman carrying his catch, tail held high. He twitched his ears, listening for the sounds of horse hooves and drumbeats. Moving slightly when air currents of approaching creatures tickled his whiskers, always the fisherman remained in sight. Nobody noticed him, nobody ever paid any mind to him. Not even the fisherman when he reached his vending booth and laid out his catch for display.

He mewed softly before sitting down out of sight of the fisherman and watched the man work. The fisherman slapped big fish down, some would still twitch feebly with what remained of their lives. The small fish having already died, stared lifelessly up at the sky, silvery scales glistening in the morning sunlight. He licked a paw to clean his face, taking his time since the fish weren't going anywhere. He must make sure to clean behind his ears, just like Mother had taught him. Clean for now, he crouched down and wrapped his tail around his paws, watching the fisherman, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

He saw a few minutes later when the fisherman walked some distance away from his stall. He struck, racing across the mud churned street and in a single bound leapt up onto the display of fish. The scent of fish dazzled his nose, which twitch as he looked around for a fish he could carry back that wasn't too small or too large.

"Hey! Get out o' there ya cat!" the fisherman shouted, rushing over to shoo him. The one he noticed inn that moment would have to do. He picked it up and leapt down, running in between the boxes. He caught his breath, willing his body to relax as the fisherman came close to his hiding spot. "Where did tha' bloody cat go?" the fisherman growled, the reek of his unwashed body and fish burning his nostrils and he crept further back between the crates, "Hell," the fisherman muttered, giving up and going back to his stall.

He waited, inching out towards the road, ears twitching for unfriendly sounds and nose seeking dangerous scents. He scanned the road, nothing too dangerous roamed now and he relaxed a bit further; now to find the scent from a few days ago, the hunter smell. The hunter smell had rescued him when an annoyingly playful dog chased him a tree. The words the hunter smell spoke were strange human sounds that he didn't recognize, different from the human sounds the people of the city spoke.

He wanted to repay the kindness the hunter smell showed him that day. He hoped the fish he was able to snatch would be enough. He began to march, tail held low, his nose twitching for traces of earth, sweat and salt, all mingling together with the undertone of blood. He picked it up as he exited the docks; though it was faint, he followed it, climbing up on barrels and crates, sniffing the air.

Deeper he went into the human city, sticking to the alleys since the horses and the strange wheel-houses didn't travel down the narrower roads. It also allowed him to stay away from the drumbeats. The humans with the drumbeats were mean men, he saw them kick a friend of his once, they laughed about it. The hunter smell never kicked his friends; in fact, many of his friends would brush up against the hunter smell, mewing happily. Even the idiot dogs seemed to be friendly with the hunter smell.

The hunter smell grew stronger as he reached the backside of a particular tavern. He rounded the corner and the hunter smell appeared out of a door that led into the ground. He wondered why the humans built doors that led into the ground. They weren't built for living in the ground, not like prey. He bolted forward, meowing as loudly as he could and held his tail high. The hunter smell paused and stared at him as he approached.

He always though the hunter smell looked strange. Humans were strange creatures wearing other animal skins since they didn't have any proper fur to keep them warm. The hunter smell was a particularly strange human since the hunter smell wore a covering over its head; he was often reminded of the not-prey birds that circled high overhead. He reached the hunter smell, set the fish before its feet and meowed loudly, looking up at the hunter smell earnestly. He meowed again and pawed at the fish, flexing his claws. Sometimes humans didn't understand and would walk off, he hoped the human smell was different.

The hunter smell was, for he crouched down to his level and noticed the fish in the grass. The hunter smell picked it up with his large human paw and looked at it. "Is this for me?" the hunter smell asked, in the familiar harsh sounds that the humans of the city used.

Yes, he mewed, purring and rubbing his head against the hunter smell's paw. It is thank you for rescuing me. He increased the volume of his purr, hoping this would appease the hunter smell. Humans seemed to respond better whenever he purred. He looked up at the hunter smell's face, and was pleased to see the hunter smell drawing his lips back. He knew humans did that when they were happy and he was glad he could make the hunter smell happy, since the hunter smell had such sad eyes.

"Thank you," the hunter smell said and reached for his head with his empty paw. He let the hunter smell stroke his coat, hoping the hunter smell didn't mind it being dirty. "I want you to have it though," the hunter smell said offering fish back to him. His whiskers drooped, disappointed that the hunter smell would do that.

Don't you like it? I got it for you! He mewed and pawed at the fish. Did he do something wrong? Humans gave each other gifts to show thanks right? He saw other humans do it, why was this human different?

"I have food to eat, you don't, I want you to take it and live," the hunter smell said. He frowned, the words meaningless to his ears, but the kindness in the tone was all he needed. The hunter smell was giving the fish back to him not because he didn't want it, but because the hunter smell knew how valuable it was to him. The hunter smell held the fish out in his open paw.

Thank you, he mewed softly before taking the fish from him.

Connor watched as the cat took the fish from his hand. "I'll tell the owners to leave something out for you," he told the cat as the animal backed away from him. "Come back tomorrow and there should be food."

The cat stared at him, blinking it's green eyes slowly before scampered off into the alley. Connor sighed, making a mental note to inform the owners of this tavern to leave food out for a stray cat. He ran towards the building and jumped, fingers finding purchase in the wood. He began to climb towards the roof, he had a Templar to find.

I saw this image of a cat carrying a fish as it walked along the docks on Tumblr yesterday. I wanted to write a story about the cat, why it had the fish and where was it going. I mentioned this idea to my friend, and she suggested the cat was bringing Connor a fish. So, here it is.

I don't know where Connor is and I don't know which Templar he's hunting. He's just in a city, hunting a Templar. Deal with it.

Charles Lee kills kittens every time you don't review. Think of the kittens.

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-Nemo