The Purring Shadows

In the city of Craninal, tucked away behind the high stone walls of an old neighborhood, there is a small garden that smells of jasmine and sun-warmed bricks. It belongs to Prostex Leatherwave, a boy who believes the most interesting thing in the world is the way a cat's ears twitch in their sleep.

Prostex has a very important responsibility: The Council of Three.

The Council consists of Soot, a black cat who is mostly a shadow with yellow eyes; Ginger, a fat orange tabby who believes the sun was created solely for his naps; and Moonbeam, a sleek white cat who handles the perimeter security (mostly by batting at drifting dandelion seeds).

While the rest of the world is busy with their own errands, Prostex’s biggest concern is whether the local baker has any leftover crusts or if the sun will stay out long enough for a proper afternoon nap.

"Order in the court," Prostex whispered, sitting on a weathered wooden crate.

Soot stretched, his claws kneading the soft moss of the garden wall. Ginger didn't move, though one ear twitched in acknowledgement. Moonbeam was busy grooming a paw, her focus absolute and calm.

Prostex pulled a small, dried treat from his pocket. The Council immediately became attentive, three pairs of eyes locking onto his hand.

"Today’s agenda," Prostex continued, holding the treat with a soft smile, "is the mystery of the missing red ball. Moonbeam, do you have a statement?"

Moonbeam let out a soft, melodic trill and rubbed her head against Prostex’s leg. It was a masterful evasion of the question, and Prostex couldn't help but scratch behind her ears.

"And you, Ginger? You were seen sleeping near the bushes where the ball was last spotted."

Ginger let out a massive yawn, showing off his pink tongue, and then promptly went back to sleep. A clear plea of 'not guilty by reason of exhaustion.'

Prostex laughed, a light and easy sound. He broke the treat into three equal pieces and placed them on the flat stone that served as the Council table.

As the cats ate, their purring filled the small garden. It was a low, steady thrumming—a sound of pure contentment. It was a sound that said, for this one hour, in this one garden, everything was exactly as it should be.

Prostex leaned back against the warm brick wall, feeling the gentle breeze on his face. He didn't need anything more than this. As Soot curled up on his lap, heavy and warm, Prostex felt like the most fortunate soul in the city.

The shadows were long, and the city outside the alley was beginning to quiet down, but here, under the purring of the Council, the world was soft, safe, and full of peace.