Sailor could not remember being a 'bad' cat. That's what the human population of this village called cats when they were misbehaving by human standards. This was the second day of a torrential rainstorm sucked in from the ocean; the fog had not receded but had instead, grown denser and colder as it sank to the cobblestones. Sailor lay unconscious in the splintering doorway of a house, dreaming once again of another village. This one always felt more familiar to him. The last time he had found himself here, Sailor had followed his feelings towards a castle high atop the hill. He had turned in the direction of one of the castle gateways and... if he remembered correctly, had heard something; the sound of trumpets and cheering people and now, the sense that he would truly be welcomed here; petted, played with and fed as a 'good' cat. Was this feeling to be trusted?