@nunchuckpanther
The river was a narrow one, as far as rivers went. Narrow but deep, and running too swift to safely ford at this branch, if the young haremaid standing at its edge was any judge (and the Hon. Merriscut Fieldbud most certainly was, thank you very much). She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, ears erect and turning this way and that.
It wasn’t the river that interested her so much, however, although she would need to cross it before long. Rather, it was the sound of a strange... a strange who-knew-what that she was currently trying to hone in on. She had never heard its like. It was on the other side of the river, she decided, about ninety paces upstream and around the bend. She had somewhere she needed to be. But... well. It couldn’t hurt just to flippin’ well look, could it?
Yes, yes it could, a tart little voice in the back of her head informed her. You don’t know what it is; it might be dangerous.
Curiosity got the better of her. She set off after the odd noises.
It was an equally odd sight that greeted her when she reached her destination. A cat -- a large male specimen, clearly a fighter; Merri tested the weight of her lance in one paw out of habit -- was the source of the noise. Or really, no, he wasn’t, she realized, it was the enormous metal contraption he appeared to be engrossed in that was making the noise. This close it almost drowned out the river.
Merri stared at the cat and the contraption from the relative safety of the underbrush, utterly nonplussed. Then curiosity won the day again. She stepped out of the trees on silent paws and stood on the bank.
“Ahem, I beg y’pardon, sirrah,” she hallooed across the river and over the noise of the... thing. “But if I may, what in the name o’ flippin’ fur is that?”
