The box moved slightly as Hawke wandered the streets of Lowtown with the crate tucked under left arm and a sack of fresh loot over her right shoulder. The setting sun glanced off the jewels of a nearby vendor's wares almost blinding hair. As she stumbled and flinched at the bright coloured flash the crate hissed and keen scratching noise sent a shrill shiver up Hawke's spine as the claws scraped the surface of the wooden crate.
"Not long now" she whispered wandering past the Hanged Man and down the street. She looked casually to the right of her and saw the sleazy, grey-haired uncle she'd come to love. Who was she kidding? She hated the arrogant, sarcastic, scum-bag prick. But still, blood was blood and now that they'd moved to Hightown the least she could do was help him out so he can enjoy an evening at the Blooming Rose. She spontaneously threw the sack of loot at him catching the side of his head and sending him sprawling to the floor. She didn't care to see if he was okay and just continued making her way to the sewer grate and climbing down into the fog of Darktown.
There was the smell week-old, burning nug and century's worth of excrement as she shuffled the crate from her left to right hip. The box shuddered and hissed again. The sour faces around stared as Hawke trotted down the rickety wooden steps and around the corner going down and up two more sets of steps before stopping at the door. A blue light burst under the door illuminating her legs as her hand reached up and knocked against the wooden surface. The box seemed tame as the light peered through the two small air holes. Hawke walked in and saw him stood there wiping his hands with a ragged cloth as two women helped and old man away. She smiled at him cheerfully and skipped to the bench like a six year old placing the crate beside her and sitting on the floor before it. She patted the space beside her and Anders chuckled before squatting beside her and looking at her curiously. She flicked the latch on the box and waited for the door to fall open and sour faced, golden, arrogant monster slinked out of the dark crate and pounced on the floor. Anders face lit up at the sight and he beamed at the creature as it circled around him deciding if it liked him or not. In the end, it rubbed its soft golden fur against Anders' leg and purred deeply as his hand reached down and stroked its tawny head.
"For me?" Anders uttered listening intently to the purr of the creature.
"Well, you said you missed Ser Pounce-A-Lot, so…"