Butter finally made it to the summit of Mount Balsh. Amidst meeting and chit-chatting with ants, lizards, and the occasional sparrows, his mind kept returning to how Salvador Hart had treated him. 

Had he misjudged the man? Probably. He didn't understand why his mistress had such low regard for the kind and handsome human. After all, a human who treats animals with kindness can't be that bad, right?

Right. 

Butter was not ungrateful. He vowed that if and when a chance presented itself, he would do everything in his limited capacity to help that jerk… no, Salvador Hart out. The chances of the latter needing him were slim, but, at the moment, that was all he had.

The Woodgrip's familiar ran his eyes over his surroundings. Pine trees stood upright with their heads in the clouds, covering the slope he had walked to get to the top. It reminded him of the beautifully groomed front yards people like Salvador could afford. 

Butter watched the sun kiss the western horizon; everything his green eyes touched was tinted gold. His body stole the heat from the last embers of the fireball burning brightly, nearing the end of its journey for the day. It warmed his heart.

The Woodgrip familiar closed his eyes to commit everything about the moment to memory. At that moment, he knew this was his first and last time here. Something in his brain clicked. The prophecy. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "My Lady, I know what needs to be done. And by Lord Satan, I shall do it, even if it's the last thing I do."

He hadn't found the fountain yet, but that was alright. If he started his journey back to Whistling Greens now, he could get back in time to attend the event The Bolts had organized. Turning his back to the sun, he looked for the path that had led him there. 

Butter spun on his heels. Had his surroundings changed? Gone were the Pine trees and dry patches of grass that took comfort under their shade. The withered yellow leaves that littered the ground had vanished, and the afternoon sun stared at him from the cloudless azure sky. It was like he had traveled to a different place and time in a second's span.

The question was, where was he? 

"Dalton Buttercutter," a deep hypnotic voice said, making Butter's fur stand to attention; with his back arched and tail tucked under his butt, he yowled. While the loud, high-pitched sound left him, his eyes tried to find the source of his fear. 

A gust of wind blew past him. "Did I frighten you, prince?"

Butter recognized the tone. If The Voice wanted to hurt him, they would have done it already; it radiated power. Unbridled power. With all the magic he had acquired over the centuries, he was sure he didn't stand a chance against the possessor of The Voice. He commanded his body to calm-the-heaven down and sat on his hind legs. "For a moment there, yes. But not anymore."

"I am glad."

"Great!"

"So tell me, prince, why did you come here?"

"Madam…Lord..." The Voice was androgynous, leaving Butter confused. "How should I address you, Your Mightiness?" he asked, trying the oldest, most reliable trick he had learned: buttering. 

"Madam will suffice, and so will Sir."

Well, that wasn't helpful in the least, was it? 

"But, you were on the right track with Your Mightiness."

The hint of humor lacing the statement surprised Butter. It helped revive his almost-dead confidence level. With his front paws facing the entity, he bowed. "I was a prince for sixteen years, Your Mightiness, but I have been a kitten for four hundred. If you don't mind, can Your Mightiness please call me Butter. My old name's a reminder of the lies I grew up hearing."

"I see what you mean. I will refrain from it. So, go on then."

"Thank you, Your Mightiness. Truth be told, I don't know. Not exactly, anyway. But since you know who I was,"—Butter hung his head low—"you know how much I owe the Woodgrip family. I don't know why Lady Poppy wanted me to come here… I don't even know if I am early or late. But I think I know what I need to do now."

"Are you sure?"

"Not a hundred percent..." Butter felt sillier by the second. Was he really planning to leave Mount Balsh without all the answers!? "But I do know I need to find a match for Mistress Pepper soon, possibly before she turns twenty-five."

"Ah, I see. You know how to calculate percentages. The witches have taught you arithmetic." The Voice took on a lighter note. "How wonderful!"

"Oh, yes. I have studied under the Woodgrip witches. The family has produced some of the magical world's best minds."

"I can sense magic in you." The tone grew heavier again; the speaker, Butter sensed, did not appreciate the familiar possessing magic. "Did the Woodgrips teach it to you?"

Butter shook his head, and his tail took shelter between his legs. 

"I don't appreciate liars."

Butter could sense the speaker's annoyance; he hurried to fix his mistake. "I can do magic; just little things, but the witches had nothing to do with it. I read books… lots of them. I practiced the craft. I offered sacrifices at the altar my mistresses' used. Upon my honor, that's the truth."

"Mn hum…" The Voice trailed. 

An eerie silence settled between them. Butter hoped that whoever it was that was scaring the heaven out of him would trust his words. 

An eternity and a day later, or so it felt like to the kitten, they spoke, "What kind of magic can you do?"

The question came as a surprise. Wasn't the entity all-knowing? Apparently not. Or, it was a test to judge his truthfulness. "I can do basic spells for calming minds, levitation...umm... I can manipulate fire, and now electricity… I think that's about it, Your Mightiness."

"Why did you learn it?"

"At first, to help around the house when my mistresses were away and then to help keep the family from harm's way."

"A noble cause, I see." 

Butter was about to lower his guard when the entity spoke, "But I am sure somewhere along the way, you came across a warning or two about how only those born with magic have the right to practice it."

Butter wanted to run away. Far away. Lying was not an option, so he stuck with the truth. "Yes."

"So why did you continue?"

"I fell in love."

"With what?"

"The Woodgrips and Magic."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Your Mightiness. No lies there," replied Butter with confidence. 

"If you had to pick one, what would you want to keep, and what would you be willing to lose?" As the question ended, a figure appeared in front of the kitten. Standing with their body shrouded in mist and face hidden under a red hood, the apparition floated a few inches over a shallow, circular body of water.

The figure held its hand out, and crimson fluid sprung from it. As it fell into the reservoir below, the pool turned first pink, then blood red. 

The fountain! 

None of the articles had mentioned anything about the water turning red or the scary thing hovering over it, barely a few meters away from where Butter was standing, shivering. 

"Prince, I asked you a question. I don't have all day. Answer me, or I will take them both off your hands."

"Pepper!" Butter replied without hesitation. “I would choose Pepper. Please, don't take her away from me," he begged; if he was still human, the feline would have fallen to his knees and shown his sincerity, but now all he could do was look at the mysterious floating being and hope they could read the familiar's heart. 

Chapter word count: 1326
Word count so far: 8876

Reached 8k milestone! Highlighted in bold.