The Enchanted Woods exhaled a grudging dawn, golden light seeping through the gnarled oaks like a thief sneaking past a guard. Mist clung to the mossy floor, thinner now, as if the forest sulked over its defeated dragon. Walenciusz the Cat strode at the head of the pack, his tophat tilted at a rakish angle despite the scratches crisscrossing its brim—battle scars from a cw too close. His gray-bck fur was matted with dirt and dragon blood, but his amber eyes glinted with a rogue's glee, Excalibur slung casually over his shoulder like a trophy he hadn't quite returned.

  "Oi, scale-breath's head'd make a fine rug," he rasped, voice a gravelly purr as he kicked a pebble into the undergrowth. "What d'ya reckon, Gorrick—mount it over your cot or mine?"

  Gorrick trudged beside him, Excalibur back in its rightful sheath, though his meaty hands flexed as if itching to recim it permanently. Blood crusted his torn cloak—dragon cws had grazed his chest deep enough to sting—and his gap-toothed grin wobbled with exhaustion. "Yours, Whiskers. You're the one who danced with that lizard. Me? I'd rather a tankard than a trophy—my ribs're yellin' for ale after that mess."

  Alice trailed a step behind, her blonde hair a tangled mess of mud and ke water, broom clutched like a lifeline. The runes along its handle pulsed faintly violet, a new spark she couldn't quite expin since her underwater tussle with that carp-brained Lake Lord. "Ale? I'd settle for a bath," she muttered, flicking a soggy leaf off her shoulder. "That fishy creep's slime's still on me—'hot witch,' my foot! Next time, I'm roasting him into chowder."

  Lissey brought up the rear, her tortoiseshell fur gleaming where the dawn hit it, copper pendant swaying at her throat like a metronome to her steady stride. Her gss dagger—chipped but sharp—dangled from her cwed hand, and her emerald eyes darted between the crew, sizing them up like a stray scoping a new alley. "Chowder's too good for that flopping fool," she snorted, husky voice cutting through the morning chill. "Should've gutted him proper—justice don't swim with egg-obsessed carp."

  Walenciusz spun on his heel, walking backward with a grin that showed too many teeth. "Justice, eh? That's your tune, Cws? Thought you'd be more my style—chaos and a quick cw to the throat. We scrapped over fish heads back in Cresthaven, didn't we? You were a spitfire even then."

  Lissey's tail flicked, a smirk tugging her muzzle. "Scraps? You mean when I swiped that trout right outta your paws, tophat? You yowled like Percival caught you napping on his rug. Chaos's your game—I cw for what's right. Big difference, gray tom."

  Gorrick barked a ugh that rattled the leaves, clutching his scratched chest with a wince. "Fish heads, huh? Expins why you two're twice the trouble together. Me'n Alice here just stumbled into your cat-fight—now look at us, dragon-syin' and witch-dodgin'. Ain't fate a kick in the britches?"

  Alice twirled her broom, runes fring briefly as she shot Lissey a sidelong gnce. "So, Cws—how'd a rooftop prowler like you end up hybrid? That pendant's no trinket. Spill it, or I'll charm it outta you—got a spell itching to try since that ke dunking."

  The crew slowed, boots and paws crunching moss as they hit a clearing—a rare patch of ft earth ringed by oaks, the mist parting like a curtain. Walenciusz flopped onto a fallen log, stretching with a yawn that bared his fangs. "Yeah, Lissey—spill. I got the Herb of Tongues from that hag Myrtha, turned me from cat to king. You just waltz in all fancy—Keeper's paw in that, I bet?"

  Lissey leaned against an oak, gss dagger twirling in her grip like a street performer's trick. Her pendant caught the light, copper gleaming as it pulsed faintly. "King, huh? More like a scruffy rogue with a hat fetish," she quipped, then sighed, eyes softening. "Fine—since you're all gawkin' like kits at a milk bowl. Back in Cresthaven, I was nobody—just a stray ppin' scraps from Widow Maren. She was an herbalist, sharp as a thorn, taught me salves and charms. This pendant?" She tapped it, and it hummed low. "Her work—buzzes when trouble's near. Kept me alive when dogs or drunks came sniffin'."

  Walenciusz tilted his tophat back, ears twitching. "Maren, huh? That old bat next door? Saw her once—smacked me with a broom for stealin' her herbs. Figures she'd pick a spitfire like you."

  Lissey smirked, but her gaze drifted, voice dropping. "After you bolted—tophat and all—I stuck around, watchin' Percival fester. Then the mill tales hit, and this thing"—she tapped the pendant—"started pullin' me. Found the Keeper there, glowin' like a ghost. Said I had 'his fire'—your fire, gray tom. Next thing, bam—paws to hands, cws to justice. Guess chaos rubbed off on me."

  Gorrick scratched his beard, settling onto the log beside Walenciusz with a groan. "Keeper, huh? That gold-eyed spook's got a paw in everything. Me, I'm simpler—pulled Excalibur from a stone years back, dy in a ke yammerin' about destiny. Thought it'd be grand—ended up bashin' trolls and nursin' ale. Then this cat"—he nudged Walenciusz—"drags me into dragons and witches. Ain't compinin', though—beats herdin' sheep."

  Alice perched on a rock, broom across her p, blue eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and curiosity. "Destiny's overrated—I just wanted outta Cresthaven's muck. Da owed debts, left me with nothin' but this broom and a knack for runes. Thought I'd scrape by, then you lot turned up—bar brawls, trolls, now carp tryin' to wed me!" She ughed, sharp and bright, but her fingers traced the broom's violet runes, brow furrowing. "Somethin's off since that ke—magic's wilder, like it's got a mind. That witch—Veyrith?—she said 'blood and runes.' Gives me the creeps."

  Walenciusz's grin faded, amber eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, paws flexing. "Blood, huh? Same crap those bandits spouted—'cat blood's the key.' Veyrith's pyin' a bigger game—dragon was just her warm-up. Bet she's got a cw in my fur still." He tapped Excalibur's hilt, voice low. "Freedom's my game, but she's makin' it personal."

  Lissey's pendant pulsed, and she straightened, ears sharp. "Personal? She's a storm brewin'—justice says we cw her down 'fore she cws us. That horn's trouble—smelled like old magic, worse'n the mill."

  Gorrick cracked his knuckles, grinning despite the blood on his chest. "Aye, let's carve her tune into kindling. Excalibur's itchin'—and I owe her for stealin' my nap back in Worldfair."

  Alice smirked, broom sparking violet as she stood. "Nap? I owe her for that carp fiasco—next time, I'm bstin' her staff to splinters. But…" She hesitated, gncing at the crew. "We're a mess—dragon's down, but we're bleedin' and broke. Worldfair's got beds, baths—maybe answers. What's the pn, chaos king?"

  Walenciusz leapt up, tophat bobbing as he spun Excalibur with a flourish, its starlight glinting off the oaks. "Pn? We limp back, lick our wounds, and sniff out Veyrith's next cw. Worldfair's got gold, gear—maybe a pint or two. Chaos don't sleep, and neither do we." He shot Lissey a grin. "You in, Cws? Two cats're twice the trouble—Percival'd yowl himself hoarse seein' us now."

  Lissey twirled her gss dagger, pendant glowing as she matched his grin. "In? I was born for this, tophat—justice and chaos make a fine stew. Let's cw Worldfair apart 'fore she does."

  Gorrick hauled himself up, cpping Walenciusz's shoulder—hard enough to make the cat wince. "Good—'cause I ain't losin' my sword again. Lead on, Whiskers."

  Alice smirked, broom over her shoulder like a rifle. "Beds first, witches second. Move it, furballs—I'm not drowning in carp slime twice."

  The crew chuckled, a ragged harmony cutting through the woods' gloom. They set off, Walenciusz's tophat bobbing ahead, Lissey's pendant glowing beside him, Gorrick's heavy tread and Alice's sparking runes trailing like a promise of chaos—and maybe something more. The oaks parted grudgingly, Worldfair's spires glinting faint on the horizon, but a violet shimmer lingered in the mist behind them—unseen, unheard, waiting.