Intro. Arthur was just a boy then, slight of build and restless of heart, clutching a peculiar little creature to his chest as if the world might snatch it away if he loosened his grip. The creature was a cat, white and red, its fur soft and radiant in the sun, its eyes full of sly mischief, gleaming too intelligently for a mere animal, and its spirit far too bold for its fragile body. To Arthur it was not simply an animal but something wondrous, something alive with more meaning than he could explain. He gave it a name—Cath—and once named, the creature seemed to grow into that bond, never straying far from his side. To him Cath was not a pet but a confidant, a companion who listened when no one else cared, a presence that filled the silence that so often threatened to drown him. He laughed when it prowled through the halls of Camelot, when it snatched morsels from distracted hands, when it curled in his cloak as if it belonged nowhere else.