The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Chapter 218: The Perils of Catching Cats

(An extra chapter for Elder '金小衙内'’s reward!)

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Bare feet, a leather vest covered in scratches, coarse linen trousers, short hair a mess like a chicken coop, hands as dirty as a little beggar, face also filthy, only her eyes bright and lively.

Before her was a black cat with its back arched, chased half the city by the ‘little beggar’ with outstretched hands, finally cornered in this small alley.

It was a dead end, the alley walls steep, with no exit, all three sides smooth stone walls, very high.

The black cat's darting eyes already held fear.

King's Landing had more cats than anything else, and the cats were most concentrated in the Red Keep, the power center of the Seven Kingdoms.

The King and the Hand, the courtiers and nobles lived there, and their leftovers were delicacies for the wild cats. No one had ever counted just how many wild cats and pet cats lived in the Red Keep, only that there were countless.

Now, the cats had met their nemesis, the little beggar who would chase this black cat halfway across the city to catch it—Arya Stark.

Still as water!

Arya calmed herself, her hands outstretched, blocking the black cat's path on both sides. Based on experience, the black cat would slip between her legs and escape again.

But Arya knew she was ready to trap this cat.

Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!

The black cat bared its fangs, threatening Arya, its arched back gathering strength, ready to explode with lightning speed.

Agile as the wind!

Arya warned herself!

Steady as a mountain!

She had to remain calm!

Whoosh!

The cat moved, first to the left, then suddenly to the right, but these were feints. The black cat suddenly burst forth, like a black shadow, shooting between Arya's legs like an arrow.

Arya shifted her legs left and right, but the black cat didn't retreat, its sharp claws fiercely raking at Arya's calf. Suddenly, her scalp tightened as Arya's right hand grabbed it, lifting the cat up.

The black cat struggled desperately. It had been free for too long, and being caught felt like it was about to be killed, its roars terrifying, its sharp claws flailing wildly.

Arya suddenly bent down, planting a kiss between the black cat's eyes, quickly retreating before the black cat's claws could scratch her face, leaving its claws grasping at empty air.

“You black devil, you made me get punished by Syrio for three days! Hehe, you can't escape now!”

Arya now had to catch a cat every day for Syrio Forel; this was a task she had to complete before her lessons.

One cat every day, and it had to be a different type and color.

Anyway, the Red Keep had no shortage of cats of all kinds.

Syrio Forel was Arya's dancing master, he came from across the Narrow Sea, and claimed to have been the First Sword of the Sealord of Braavos for nine years.

Arya's daily dance lessons were actually sword training.

Because in Syrio's eyes, swordsmanship was like beautiful art, like music and dance, so Arya didn't call learning the sword 'learning the sword,' but 'dancing.'

To dance with Syrio, she had to first catch a cat and give it to him.

Arya happily carried the black cat, but she had only taken a few steps before she had to stop.

In the alley, there were at least three people standing.

These three people were looking at her with ill intentions. It was obvious that none of them intended to make way.

Arya couldn't tell if these three people were servants of some family or something else.

None of them wore family emblems.

They also didn't carry weapons.

The person in front looked like a dwarf, but slightly taller than a dwarf, with a hideous, crudely made mask on his face, revealing only his eyes and mouth, whistling a light tune, looking at Arya with a playful gaze.

Behind him, several meters away, was a very tall and stout woman, looking at her with gentle eyes, without any malice.

At the very back was a little girl, leaning against the wall. Arya could see her well by keeping her gaze close to the wall. This girl was not much taller than Arya, equally thin, and her eyes occasionally revealed a very strong intention to attack.

The three people, spaced out in the alley, blocked Arya's path.

The three had no common markings, but Arya could tell they were together.

“Little sister, you caught my family’s cat, you have to pay us money,” the masked kid said with a grin.

“Get out of the way, this is a wild cat from the Red Keep, it doesn't belong to anyone,” Arya snapped.

“If you don't compensate us, you have to come with us,” the masked kid said, walking towards Arya with outstretched hands.

The tall, stout woman in the middle began to move, coming to surround her, while the thin girl leaning against the wall at the back remained motionless, but her eyes suddenly became very fierce, as if Arya had some deep-seated hatred with her.

“My father is the Hand, if you don't want to be beheaded, get out of here!” Arya shouted.

Move like a rabbit, fierce as a tiger, fast as the wind.

Arya silently recited the mantra her dance teacher taught her, suddenly waving her hand, sending the black cat, which she had been holding against her chest and which had been scratching at her leather jacket, flying out, pouncing towards the masked kid.

The black cat hissed, baring its fangs, extending its claws, pouncing fiercely at the masked kid.

The masked kid was startled, dodging hastily, instinctively raising his hands to block his face. The black cat twisted in the air, landing on its feet, and darted away from him. At the same time, another shadow flashed past, that was Arya.

A pair of large hands reached out to grab Arya. —The stout woman rushed up to attack.

Arya tilted her body to the side, quickly lowering herself, as agile as a kitten. She slipped between the tall, stout woman's legs, and by the time the tall, stout woman turned around, Arya was already ten meters away, facing the girl leaning against the wall.

Arya was fast as the wind!

The girl watched Arya run over, still leaning against the wall, but Arya's heart leaped. The girl had no sword, but Arya could feel the sharpness and chill of a sword.

This feeling came from the girl's eyes.

“Get out of the way!” Arya shouted, “I am Arya Stark, do you want to die?”

The girl's lips curled up, unmoved by the name of House Stark.

“Don't look at their movements, look at their eyes. Their eyes will tell you what they are thinking, and you will know what their next move will be. Of course, don't look with your eyes, look with your heart!” Syrio's voice echoed in her ears.

But there was no movement in this girl's eyes, only a chilling coldness, or rather, a murderous aura.

This girl wanted to kill her.

This made Arya's heart race wildly.

The girl suddenly moved, not blocking Arya's path head-on, but suddenly using the wall to propel herself, fiercely kicking at Arya's abdomen.

Arya flashed to the right, almost hitting the wall, barely avoiding this incredibly swift kick.

It was because of this kick that she noticed the other girl's boots were military boots.

She had been too nervous just now, only paying attention to the girl's eyes, those eyes had suddenly become too terrifying, attracting all of Arya's attention.

This girl was a warrior.

Whoosh!

The girl slid forward in pursuit, her right fist striking fiercely at Arya's face.

Arya ducked her head, taking advantage of the momentum to charge forward: Slippery as a shadow!

The other girl's fist grazed over her head with a gust of wind, stirring the air.

Thank you to the reward from the book friend Zero-Degree Thinking, thank you, handshake!