Perched atop of the open window, the Cat’s keen whiskers feeling the cool breeze. Wind-milling Gulls crossed her vision, an unwanted distraction as she scoured the fog wrapped coast.
Electric charged her fur as a distortion developed within the fog bank, whisping light greys darkening as a pirate vessel emerged from the milky depths.
‘He’s here’ she whispered, cascading onto the bed, pawing the feet of the crew to awaken them.
‘Wake up, Blackbeard’s advancing on our position, man the 68 pounders’, but they merely sleepily rolled over. Why do they always ignore me? She thought, sprinting for the guns.