Whatever you thought of the sky, it was clear that the Sun had said her final goodbyes and dipped below the horizon, and the Moon was on her rise to glory. It was bedtime.

 She blew out the two candles that were lighting up her workspace. She had just been repairing her satchel, you see. It got caught in a twig the other day and the strap tore. Aaba's work would be much harder without her trusty satchel, so she took the two hours it took to repair it in a firm and durable stitch. 

 Abba had just lowered herself into the bed and snuggled under the covers when she heard a knock at her window.

 “Luther?” 

 Who else could it be?

 She heard two more knocks just as she got out of bed. “Alright, I'm coming!

 The window pane only gave minimal struggle as she pulled it up. Her night time visitor jumped into the room, and just looked at her. She'd have to do the speaking first, as usual.

 “Aren't you lucky? I just got a chicken and some eggs today. How about I make you some dinner?”

 “Mrow!”

 That's right, Luther is a cat. A cat that's able to sit back on it's haunches, clear its throat, and say “That would be lovely. I had to settle on a mouse for lunch today.”

 “You poor thing, eating mice like a cat.” Aaba said. “I'll make it for you while you tell me the news.”

 “Oh, yes! You won't believe what I've found today.”

 After she started the fire, Aaba began to cut up the chicken. She's only taken a breast off, and sliced a third off of that for herself. Luther was only a cat, after all. He didn't need large portions. She grabbed a pot, and placed it over the stone stove. Boy, those elves sure are good with their masonry stuff. Upgrading from a fire pit was a great investment.

“So, what house did you go to today?” Aaba asked as she dumped the chicken into the pot.

“Alright, well,” Luther began, “I was over at Tolkien Street today, when I noticed a cottage with-” 

“Just a cottage?” Aaba asked. She'd cracked two eggs and added it to the meal.

“A cottage with a luscious garden. Roses, sweetgrass, and lots of herbs grew there. I figured, ‘Well, only people with lots of time and money would be able to tend to that.’ So I waited to see if anybody would come in or out of the house.”

“And did anybody?”

“Yes, after- that looks a bit dry, don't you think?”

“I guess,” Aaba said. “I'll fix that, you continue with your story.”

“Right,” Luther got relaxed once more. “It was about- oh , I don't know, just when the Sun was at 3 o'clock?- I saw an old hag approach, and she didn't see me from where I was hiding. Her face and clothes told me she was poor, but she had two bags full of stuff she no doubt bought from the market.”

Aaba added a dash of homemade bone broth, and a pinch of salt, and added the food to a little dish. The food was all finished. But Luther would only get it after his story. He didn't even notice, anyways. Too enraptured in his tale.

“You know how those rich folks get when they reach a certain age, they cant defend themselves properly so they just try to pass off as a peasant! I had a look through her window, and she was doing a terrible job at it. Gold statues, jeweled knick knacks, and, you know, just a lot of expensive looking stuff.”

After Luther had finished, the smell had made its way to his nose.

“So,” he licked his lips. “I've fulfilled my part of the deal.”

“Just tell me one more time, where was this place?”

“On Tolkien Street! The house with the lovely garden. I didn't capture the exact address.”

"And your sure this house will have valuables we can take?"

Luther place his paw on his chest, "I swear on my seven lives."

“It's all yours,” Aaba set the dish onto the floor, and Luther pounced on the spot.

She sat back and watch him eat the tasty mush she'd prepared. She didn't mind giving up a little bit of food to a stray, so long as that stray was helpful.

When they'd first met, Aaba thought he was a familiar that had been lost. Or escaped, not all magic users were kind. But Luther is apparently a magic user himself. He was a witch, and after one bad spell he was stuck in the body of a cat. 

“You don't need to feel bad for me.” He said. Being a cat was actually much better, and he felt more like himself than ever. He spoke so highly of the cat life that sometimes Aaba would wonder if the spell really was a mistake. 

Delga was probably still fast asleep up in the attic, no need to go and wake her up.

She'll just make sure that they're both awake and ready by sunrise.