A blue canopy and a welcoming sun lit the sky but the folk climbing into the old car didn’t notice. “I’ll drive,” Garion said to Donovan, dangling an old key between his fingers. “I don’t suppose you’ve had much experience with motor vehicles. “None at all,” Donovan admitted but his focus was on the dark-headed woman climbing into the seat in the back of the rust-coloured car. He pushed the door shut once the cat had jumped up onto her lap. “Remember whose wife you rest upon, cat. My sword will make short work of you in either form.” He ignored the hushed grumbles of ‘one mistake and I’m never allowed to live it down’ and moved around to the other side of the car, glancing once around before climbing in. Garion started the car, its engine drowning out the complaints of the disgruntled cat that had begun to settle under Willow’s gentle stroking. Soon the clunking of the gears, the grinding of the dying engine mixed with the loud purrs of the black cat before he succumbed into sleep.
