The cobbled streets of Pocketville's castle town buzzed with an unusual tension, a palpable unease that clung to the air thicker than the aroma of sugared berries from a nearby vendor's stall. Gort, the hulking pit bull with ice-blue eyes that betrayed a surprising lack of intellect, lumbered beside Zull, his taupe, spiked collar glinting menacingly in the fading sunlight. The pair, notorious outlaws in Pocketville, were on edge, their senses heightened as they carried out yet another of Eva's half-baked schemes. Gort sniffed the air, his broad snout twitching. The scent of the berries warred with the underlying metallic tang of fear radiating from the smaller pets scurrying past. Each rustle of fur, each nervous chirp of a bird perched on the castle walls, set his teeth on edge. Zull, ever the slightly more pragmatic of the two, bumped Gort's shoulder with his own, a subtle warning to stay focused. "Keep your head in the game, you oaf," Zull growled, his orange eyes scanning the narrow alleyways branching off the main street. "We can't afford to mess this up. Not with Eva watching." Gort grumbled under his breath, the low rumble vibrating in his chest. The feel of the cobblestones beneath his paws was uneven, the worn stones slick with a fine sheen of evening dew. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a polished window of a toy shop, his muscular frame a stark contrast to the delicate wares displayed within. The weight of Eva's expectation pressed down on him, a heavy burden for a creature of such limited wit. He longed for the simplicity of a swamp drink, but knew that failure here meant facing Eva's chilling displeasure. The scent of jasmine wafted by in a strange, exotic twist, a floral aroma he thought only Princess Ava cared for. What an odd coincidence.