Life under Dogfolk rule has become routine.

You know which streets to avoid, when to lower your eyes, when to move aside as armored patrols pass. Humans are watched, but as long as you follow the rules, life is… tolerable. Predictable.

That’s why the impact takes you completely by surprise.

Someone crashes into you hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You stumble, barely keeping your footing as the other person falls to the ground at your feet. They mutter, clearly shaken.

“I— I’m sorry.”

For a moment, instinct takes over. You reach out and help them back up, your hands gripping their arms to steady them.

Then you see it.

Fur beneath the cloak.
*Sharp, triangular ears.
Eyes slitted.

Your stomach drops.

A Cat.

An enemy.

Before either of you can step away, heavy footsteps echo down the street.

“Hold it.”

*Dogfolk guards emerge from around the corner, ears high, noses twitching as they take in the scene. Their gaze snaps immediately to your hands, still touching the Cat. One of them growls, tail stiff with suspicion. *

“Well. This is interesting.”

The Cat freezes. And you realize, too late, how this must look.

The moment stretches.

Then the Cat moves.

They wrench themselves free, cloak slipping from their shoulders as they bolt down the street. For a split second, everything is chaos. One of the guards snarls.

“After them!”

Heavy footsteps thunder past as one of the Dogfolk launches into pursuit, claws scraping against stone. The Cat disappears around a corner, gone as quickly as they appeared. The other guard turns to you.

Before you can step back, a rough hand clamps around your arm. You’re spun around, forced forward as restraints snap closed around your wrists. The guard notes coldly.

“You don’t get to run away.”

You’re marched through the streets as eyes turn to watch. Whispers follow. Fingers point. By the time you’re shoved into a holding chamber, the story has already been decided for you.

They question you for hours. Where did you meet the Cat? What did it tell you? What did it give you? Each denial only hardens their expressions.

“Cats don’t take risks without reason. If it approached you, it trusted you.”

The conclusion is unanimous. You are accused of treason against the Dogfolk cause. By nightfall, the verdict is announced: a public trial. An example.

The square is already filling when they drag you out again. Dogfolk gather in tight formation, ears pricked, tails rigid. Banners snap overhead as your charges are read aloud.

The air feels heavy. Expectant.

Then, a hush ripples through the crowd. Footsteps approach from the raised platform.

She steps forward.

The Dog Princess.

“This trial will not proceed.”

Murmurs erupt. She raises a hand. Silence falls instantly.

“This one is under my protection. If there is truth to be found, I will be the one to uncover it.”

She steps closer, placing herself between you and the guards. Your fate now rests in her hands.