The rustling of wings attracted Shadowheart's attention. Somewhere in the grass, Tara was jumping slightly, as if playing with something like a cat. There were many abandoned and ruined temples in these places, among which it was not difficult to find a small toy in the form of a bird or a rat.

The subsequent plaintive squeak made the cleric go and check what was going on there. Tara was indeed playing with a rat, which seemed paralyzed with fear of the impending death and was no longer trying to escape. The rat was small, with white curly fur and red eyes. And something squeezed in her chest, making her feel a semblance of compassion.

"Sorry, Tara," Shadowheart intervened and took the rat from the clearly indignant Tressym, who meowed as if she was showering her with curses.

The white rat still didn't move, in shock. Shadowheart returned to her tent and, sitting down on the bed, began to gently stroke it and bring it to its senses. She took a small piece of apple from her bag to at least slightly revive the unfortunate creature and show that it was safe here.

To her delight, it worked. The rat rolled over on its paws and began to chew the apple with an appetizing crunch. What else does a rat need to live? Eat, eat and eat again.

Shadowheart involuntarily felt touched, looking at this. She had never seen a rat up close that didn't crawl around the garbage, but held a piece of something with its front paws and ate.

"You're too handsome for a garbage rat," she commented under her breath and carefully began to stroke him. "Such snow-white fur… Amazing. Astarion, is that you by any chance? No one turned you into a rat?"

Of course, she was joking, because the real Astarion was in sight and was discussing something with Gale, who had to be distracted by Tara who had come to him. Judging by her active meowing, she was complaining about something. Astarion seemed to be nodding to her purely out of solidarity. Of course, it is not very pleasant when your prey is taken away.

But the rat really reminded her of Astarion in appearance, not only in fur and eyes: intimidated and distrustful.

"Here, the name itself literally suggests itself."

She gave the rat another piece of apple. Ratstarion immediately ran away with it a little to the side, hiding. It was as if he was afraid that they would take it away from him. Nevertheless, he stuck his muzzle out of his hiding place, as if he hoped that they would give him more.

"Take it, I don’t mind."

Shadowheart fed him a whole apple. While the rat was eating, she very carefully placed her palm on his back and muzzle and began to stroke him.

"You even feel so nice to the touch…"

She just stroked him. It was so relaxing… As if in gratitude the rat, having finished chewing the apple, he began to lick her thumb and chew a little with his upper teeth, as if combing her fur. Apparently, this meant the beginning of trust.

"Astarion, come closer…"

"What?" he responded. "You felt lonely, and decided to invite me to your place? I'm hungry. I wouldn't refuse such an appetizing dinner."

"I'm not calling for you," Shadowheart frowned. "Meet my non-magical familiar. Your namesake, by the way."

A starry-eyed disgust was evident on Astarion's face, mixed with bewilderment.

"You named a garbage rat after me?"

"Curly white fur, red eyes, doesn't trust anyone."

"Very funny," the elf didn't appreciate her joke. "Make him rat kebab, at least let him be useful, since you're fattening him up like that."

"I'll make you into kebab now," Shadowheart threatened, nodding at the spear of night. "Don't touch him. And if you're that hungry, I'll sacrifice my neck to you today."

"How noble of you," Astarion quipped in response, and went back to his tent to wait until late at night and come to her completely under cover of darkness.

Shadowheart was still able to take Ratstarion in her arms, but not without his panic. She just wanted to take a closer look at his face and red eyes.

Forget about "good dog and evil cat" thing

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