Chapter 8: Shadows of the Past

Goldie leaned against the tavern wall, arms crossed, watching Puss from a distance. The legendary cat, usually so poised and full of bravado, now seemed utterly lost. He nursed a drink with a vacant stare, his tail twitching absently. Perrito sat at the table beside him, wagging his tail, trying to inject some cheer into the somber mood.

"Come on, amigo!" Perrito chirped, his voice bright against the somber air. "It's not all bad. We're together, right? And together, we can do anything!"

Puss gave a weak smile but didn't reply. His eyes flicked to Goldie as she approached the table.

"You're awfully quiet for someone who made such a big show of finding me," he muttered.

Goldie huffed, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. "And you're awfully broody for someone who got their big wish."

"That's because it wasn't what I thought it would be," Puss admitted, his voice low, as if speaking the words gave them weight. "I have my nine lives, but I feel... empty."

Goldie rested her elbows on the table, her fingers laced together. "I know that feeling," she said, her tone uncharacteristically soft. "After I left the Bears, I thought I'd feel free, like I was finally on the right path. But all I felt was... wrong."

Perrito's ears drooped, sensing the gravity of the conversation. He nudged Goldie's hand gently with his nose. "But you said you were looking for your 'Just Right.' Isn't that still out there?"

Goldie shook her head, her curls bouncing faintly. "I thought it was. Turns out, what I needed was with me all along, and I pushed it away. Sound familiar, gato?"

Puss's ears flattened as her words struck a chord. "You think I pushed something away?"

"Not something," Goldie corrected, her gaze steady, "someone. Yourself."

Puss stared at her, the words hitting harder than he wanted to admit. Before he could form a reply, the tavern door creaked open.

A rugged traveler stepped inside, his cloak dusted with sand and his boots worn from miles of travel. His eyes scanned the room like a hawk hunting prey. When his gaze landed on Puss, it lingered just a moment too long.

Goldie straightened, her instincts sharp as a blade. "Who's that?" she whispered under her breath.

The man approached their table with careful steps, his voice low but urgent. "Word is, there's a dangerous figure looking for a certain 'legendary cat.' You might want to lay low."

Puss stiffened, his fur bristling. His heart raced, and his mind flashed with memories of Death—the wolf's piercing eyes, the haunting whistle, and the sound of the twin sickles slicing through the air. He tried to mask his fear, but Goldie saw through him.

"Thanks for the warning," Goldie told the traveler, who nodded curtly and moved on. She turned back to Puss, her brow furrowed. "What aren't you telling us?"

Puss opened his mouth to answer but stopped short. The light from the tavern's flickering lanterns seemed to dim as a shadow danced across the far wall—a tall, lean figure with glowing red eyes and the faint gleam of twin sickles strapped to its back. The faint whistle of an eerie tune cut through the air, chilling them to their cores.

Goldie whipped her head around, but the shadow was gone as quickly as it came, swallowed by the dim light and murmurs of the tavern. Puss froze, his breathing shallow.

"Puss," Goldie pressed, her voice a mix of urgency and concern, "what was that?"

He gripped the edge of the table, his claws leaving faint marks. "It's him," Puss whispered, his voice trembling. "Death."

Perrito tilted his head, his tail stopping mid-wag. "Death? Like... the big, scary wolf from your stories?"

"Not stories," Puss snapped, his fear making his words sharp. "He's real. And if he's here... it means my time might be running out. Again."

Goldie leaned in closer, her expression shifting from curiosity to determination. "Then we better be ready. Because if Death is coming for you, he's got to go through us first."

Perrito barked in agreement, standing tall despite his small size. "Yeah! Nobody messes with our friend!" He paused, then added with a nervous chuckle, "Even if I might need a little backup myself."

Puss's gaze darted between them, his panic warring with the faintest flicker of hope. For the first time in a long while, he wasn't alone.

The sound of the tavern door creaking open again made them all turn. Another figure entered, cloaked in shadows, and the room fell into a tense hush. This time, the faint sound of the eerie whistle lingered in the air like a warning.

"Time to move," Goldie said firmly, grabbing Puss by the arm.

Puss nodded, his legs shaky but steadying as he stood. Together, the three slipped out a side door into the cool night air, the cold breeze biting at their fur and the haunting whistle echoing faintly in the distance.