[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

The entrance hall was dark and quiet as Miaama waited by the door for Pirro and Yawla. She crouched behind a potted plant, hoping the shadow would hide the bright whiteness of her body. The last thing she wanted was for one of Beruthiel's maids to spot her and carry her back upstairs. She sniffed the air tentatively, hoping to catch the scent of Pirro and Yawla approaching, but all she could smell was a harsh chemical smell. Some sort of cleaner.

After a few minutes, Miaama caught sight of a movement at the edge of a splash of moonlight on the main staircase. Stepping forward from the shadow of the plant, she met them. Athel was still looking rather sulky, and Pirro was on edge, pacing back and forth unable to stand still. Yawla sat calmly, licked a paw, as Miaama came out to join them. All ready? she asked them softly, three black faces stared at her, three simultaneous yeses.

Slipping out into the gardens the four shadows went into the night. Athel left them there, her job was to find the others and let them know the plan. Under the palace gates and through the silent streets, the three cats made an odd grouping. Not invisible, like they usually were, Miaama's white form nearly glittered in the shadowy city. They kept to the darkest corners, the lonliest alleyways, all three intent on their purpose, even Pirro's usual jitteriness replaced by an intense calm.

Yawla and Pirro walked to either side of Miaama, guiding her through the streets. Though the older cat had once known the city well, she was unfamiliar with their destination. They reached the warehouse without incident, slipping in through the partly opened door as though they belonged there. Farucan was waiting inside. The man was dark, smaller than Miaama had thought. Pirro had always thought of him as a dark, terrifying figure.

Miaama hovered in the back now, her white tail curved over her paws, disregarding entirely the strange look the slender man sent her. He stepped forward now, to take the note from around Pirro's neck and read it with some surprise. His dark features settled into an expression of intense satisfaction, but he didn't speak. Tucking the papers into a leather bag at his side, the man inclined his head gracefully toward the cats. Taking this as her cue, Miaama stood. Stretching languidly she moved toward him.

"My Mistress sends greetings." The white cat gazed at an undefined spot high on the wall as she spoke. She had never spoken before, to any save Beruthiel, and she was terrified to find herself doing it now and under these circumstances. Lowering her eyes to the man's face she continued. "The message we bring now is too secret to set on paper."