The winds howled through the ancient abbey ruins, sending leaves spiraling and the long-forgotten bells creaking mournfully in the distance. The Church Grim, having barely recovered from his dramatic race with his beloved Cat-Sìth, now found himself in a new predicament.
He stood, shivering slightly, as his furry black ears drooped with defeat. His tail flicked behind him nervously, its usual exuberant wagging a far-off memory.
"Aw, come on!" he whimpered, looking at the Cat-Sìth with big, pleading eyes. "I won the race. You promised me cuddles!"
She stood a few steps away, her tail flicking in playful amusement, a smug look spread across her feline face. "Oh, sweetie. I did promise cuddles, but..." she paused, raising one dainty paw and sniffing the air theatrically, "You smell like old church incense and... dust. Not exactly the fragrance of someone I want curled up beside me."
"W-What?!" The Grim's ears shot straight up, his voice as desperate as a lost puppy's. "I—! I... I've been running, okay?!"
"And I've been telling you," she said, flicking her tail to emphasize her point, "You need to bathe, love. You can't expect me to cuddle with you looking like that. You're, like, the walking embodiment of a dust storm."
His fur fluffed up like a balloon, the tips of his ears twitching in embarrassment. "But I hate baths! Why do I have to take one now?! I... I mean, I'm fine! Really! I—!"
"Oh, no, no, no. It's non-negotiable," she purred, crossing her arms and looking away with an air of stubbornness that matched his own. "Race rules. You're going to get a bath, whether you like it or not."
The Grim huffed out a breath, his fluffy tail deflating slightly as he hunched over, curling himself into a miserable little bundle. He really hated baths. The very idea of having to get soaked with water sent a shiver of dread down his spine. The cold! The wetness! The scrubbing! Ugh! He felt his whole body tremble just thinking about it.
"Please, please... don't make me do this," he muttered, feeling a low whine rise from his chest. "It's cold tonight... the wind's going to freeze me—"
"Hey!" The Cat-Sìth's eyes narrowed, suddenly serious. "You promised cuddles, didn't you? A deal's a deal."
The Church Grim grumbled and pouted, watching his beloved feline with those big, sorrowful eyes of his. The moonlight shimmered on her fur, making her look even more ethereal than usual. She was so perfect, and here he was, like a big, sad, grumpy ball of fur that reeked of old incense and abandoned graveyards.
"Why do you have to be so... cute?" he muttered to himself, ears sagging.
"Oh, hush. You're lucky I love you, you big oaf," she said, nudging him gently with her tail. "Now get yourself to the river, scrub up, and then maybe—just maybe—you'll get those cuddles you crave."
The Grim sighed, his shoulders drooping with the weight of his misfortune. "Fine... fine... But it's not going to be fun."
With an exaggerated shuffle, he trudged away from the ruined church and toward the nearby riverbank. The wind picked up again, whipping the leaves around him like little icy daggers. It was chilly. It was way too chilly. And the thought of immersing himself in the river's cold, swift current made him shudder. But he had no choice. He needed those cuddles. He needed them.
"Alright, alright..." he muttered, trying to pump himself up. "It's just a little bath... Just a little... Maybe I can pretend to enjoy it? Maybe... Just maybe... I can do this quickly!"
But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, the cold air nipped at his fur and the dark, rushing water made him more and more reluctant. He stepped closer to the edge, peering down at the river, the waves crashing against the rocks below. He let out a miserable sigh.
"I should've just let her win the race. At least she wouldn't make me bathe," he groaned, glancing at his reflection in the water. "Why did I even agree to this?"
His reflection stared back at him—a haggard Church Grim with fur matted from running, with large, pitiful eyes that made him look more like a lost puppy than a fierce, supernatural creature of the church.
Suddenly, he heard a soft meow from behind him.
Turning quickly, he found the Cat-Sìth standing on the edge of the riverbank, watching him with an amused but soft expression. Her tail twitched in curiosity as she tilted her head. "I'm watching. Don't you dare think you can skip out on this, mister."
He rolled his eyes. "I hate you... but I love you, so I'll do it..."
With a resigned sigh, the Church Grim waded into the river. The cold water lapped at his fur, sending a chill straight through his bones. He shuddered visibly, but continued to trudge through the current. "I'm... I'm doing this for her..." he mumbled, trying to convince himself as much as he could.
The Cat-Sìth sat on a nearby rock, watching him, her green eyes glimmering with amusement as she saw his discomfort. Her tail flicked side to side like a metronome, calm but patient.
"Good boy," she teased. "I knew you'd do it."
The Grim, soaked and shivering, grumbled under his breath, but he couldn't suppress the smallest grin at her playful attitude. "If I get those cuddles tonight, it'll be worth it," he muttered.
"I'll be here waiting," she said, her voice softening a little. "But you'd better scrub yourself properly! Or you'll be sleeping in the cold again."
Baths might be cold, but the warmth of a loved one's affection is worth the effort.