Grom

Grom sat on the counter watching his new lodger pacing restlessly outside the shop. There was something about her that he didn’t trust; the need on her bony face and the hunger in her flaming eyes went beyond simple desire for food and comfort. In fact, there was an air of wild cruelty about her that made his skin crawl with distaste.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the mouse emerge from its usual hiding place. He knew its favourite food, the exact course it would take to find it and precisely how long it would sit nibbling before scuttling back to safety. He gave a contented sigh that startled the mouse. Knowledge was such a beautiful thing; it was the basis of all routines, and routines were vital to cosmic peace. Having seen so much death in his own time, Grom appreciated the peaceful life. But, could he persuade the newcomer to share this view? Would she even understand?

The mouse was three-quarters of the way across the room when she spotted it. Before he knew what was happening, she’d already pounced and ripped its head off. That was my friend, he hissed at her in anger and disgust. ‘Now, now, Grom,’ the human said disapprovingly, ‘this just goes to prove that if you don’t do your job properly there’s always somebody out there who will.’