Holding the cat Chelsea had turned into, Durandal couldn't help rubbing her cheek against its fluffy little belly. The feel of that soft fur brushing her face... was simply too blissful.
Although the white cat looked extremely unwilling and even seemed like it wanted to scratch Durandal, it had no chance at all. In Durandal's hands, it could only submit helplessly.
Chelsea was practically on the verge of tears now!
She had never imagined she would suffer such humiliation one day. She had considered that she might die for the revolution someday, perhaps during some mission, but she could never have imagined something like this.
"Too cute! Don't worry, I'll take care of you from now on." After savoring the wonderful sensation of fluff for a while, Durandal finally pulled the cat away with satisfaction. Then she grabbed the white cat by its front legs and held it up in the air, meeting its eyes.
Though Durandal could see Chelsea's rejection, displeasure, and other emotions, she didn't think much of them. She merely assumed the cat was upset at being caught by a stranger.
That was perfectly normal. Unless a cat had been raised from birth, it would take time to build a bond. Once she had raised it for a few months, this white cat would stop disliking her.
Though this cat's eyes were extraordinary, almost human, far more complex than those of an ordinary cat, Durandal didn't dwell on it. Just as women in love tended to lose some intelligence, Durandal's vigilance dropped considerably whenever she encountered a cute cat.
That was Durandal's weakness. If her enemy were a powerful and adorable cat, it might genuinely be able to ambush her. But unfortunately, Chelsea the cat didn't qualify. Not even Stan could.
"Are you hungry? I'll find you