One moment Torakh was prowling solitary through the gardens. Then he turned aside into a niche, and found that he was no longer alone.

The man slumped against the oak's trunk, eyes shut, breathing regular enough that Tor knew he slept. His appearance was indistinguishable from the others of this land, forgettable, especially to someone from the North - only his scent was richer, musky with new sweat, with exertion that most in this palace never saw. His breath, too, was soft enough that Tor doubted he'd have heard it in human form. Curious.

But not particularly so, and Tor stepped backward, intending to leave him undisturbed. As he did so one paw brushed against a fallen leaf, rustling it, not a loud or obtrusive noise. But... the man tensed, just a little, nostrils flaring, the movement slight enough that if he hadn't been watching he wouldn't have noticed, and Tor hesitated. For a moment nothing else changed, even the rhythm of breathing; Tor approved of the training that must have taken, even while wondering at the human's apparent youth. Then the man opened his eyes and stared directly into Torakh's own.

He stared back, expecting the startlement and fright he normally received when in a strange land. Sure enough, the man's eyes widened, but only for a moment, and then he was standing.

"My lord," he murmured, bowing. "Anything I can do for you?"

Well now, that was interesting. It was rare indeed for someone to immediately connect tiger with Northern ambassador - having just woken, no less! - and rarer still for one such to be so apparently comfortable standing near the predator. But there was no tell-tale spike of fear in his nostrils, and Tor's ears flicked forward in curiosity before he could stop them.

A few moments later, having apparently concluded that the tiger was not going to become human in order to place demands on him, the human straightened. "All right then, my lord. I'll leave you to the gardens in peace."

And with that, the man strode past him through the exit, almost brushing the tiger's side as he passed, and still without a trace of the fear or discomfort Tor was used to. Tor watched him go, tail flicking, more curious than he really had a right to be. Then he realized that he hadn't obtained any information with which to satisfy that itch, and went to memorize the scent from where the strange man had lain, lowering his head to breathe it in deeply. On a whim he dropped to the ground and rolled in it, righting himself once the muskiness coated his fur. He'd track him down later for some questions, a name - request him as a personal servant for his stay, perhaps; it was always useful to have a resident of the area who wasn't petrified of tigers as an aide.

Tor lashed his tail. He had time enough in this country. The curiosity would be dealt with soon.

In the rush of establishing his staff within Ilirnand's capitol, it was some time before Torakh had the leisure to investigate the mystery posed by the man in the garden. But eventually, over the space of several weeks, and after no little exasperation, his staff were all more-or-less settled, and he made his return to the palace gardens, searching for that scent.

--To no avail: the man seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Not only were there no traces of him in the gardens, but Tor could find nothing of him in the castle proper or the nearby areas. Asking after his face was no use, either, his features too far from distinctive for anyone to remember, least of all him, unfamiliar as he was with the country and its inhabitants. So while he normally considered himself a very patient weretiger, he was beginning to get frustrated; and by the time two months had come and gone without any evidence that the odd human had been more than just a dream, he was irritable enough that most of his staff avoided him. Recognizing his own ill temperament did very little to improve it, however, and Tor took to spending most of his time in the seclusion of the gardens, prowling through the canopied avenues, exercising his claws on the gnarled oaks, or simply resting in the little groves in feline form.

He was there now, resting against the same tree the human had been nearly three months back. Fall had finally given over to winter, and there was a light layer of snow upon the ground. The cool weather soothed him, reminding him of home, though there was certainly far more snow there by now. Even his winter coat was late growing in, his body not recognizing these temperatures as heralding anything but a particularly mild fall. Regardless, the snow muffled sound and scent, and Tor was startled when a shape turned from the avenue into the alcove. He gave a surprised huff, lifting his head, and the human stopped.

"My lord! Sorry, hadn't thought anyone else would be out here." He bowed, straightened, and turned to go - and Tor shifted without thinking and stood, because the voice was familiar and he caught a sudden scent on the wind. The motion apparently caught the man's eye: he turned back and cocked his head to the side. "Sir?"

"Your name," Tor demanded, frustration making him speak without consideration.

The man raised an eyebrow. "Cay."

"No family name?"

"...Can't give it to you, sorry, sir."

Torakh very nearly growled before recalling some measure of self-control. The man had said can't, so there might actually be valid reason behind it, but that also meant it would be difficult to track him down again. Well, then - he would get at least some of his answers now.

"Cay, then. You are not engaged at present?"

"No."

"Good," Tor said. "I would like to speak with you."

Cay eyed him for a moment before nodding. "Can't think why, but if you say so, my lord." He turned, went to a boulder near the tree, brushed the snow from it, and settled himself there; Tor wondered why he didn't choose a tree to lean against like he had the last time, then decided he could find that out later.

"You aren't afraid of me," he said, slowly, tasting the words as he said them. They left a strange taste in his mouth.

"No," Cay said. His eyebrow had gone down; now it went back up. "Should I be?"

"No." Tor watched him carefully; the man seemed to be more uncomfortable with this human shape than he had been when Tor was a tiger. "It is only curious."

"Ahh..." Except that now the human seemed to be amused, and Tor wasn't sure why. "Got it." He shook his head quickly, then met Tor's eyes. "I love cats, my lord. Easier to read than humans, don't lie with their bodies. You weren't something to be afraid of then."

"Most humans aren't comfortable with cats quite that large," Tor said dryly. "Have you been around others?"

"Weres, you mean? No, just mountain cats and leopards."

The way Cay said it, casually, as if it were a normal occurrence, surprised him. At least Tor had been practicing control for most of his life, and most of the humans he ran into could reassure themselves with that. But this man was used to wild cats - not as big as Torakh, true, but also not as restrained. Cay would have to be incredibly skilled at watching their body language and predicting their movements in order to survive enough close contact to make him say just. It intrigued him, and he hadn't had any luck getting an Ilirnish local as an aide yet...

"If I were to make a request that you be assigned to my service for the rest of my stay," he said slowly, "what would I receive as an answer?"

Cay tilted his head. "You're fairly important, but probably a no. Royals generally want me available, wouldn't be if I were attached to your household." He hesitated. "Yes if it were just me. Never met a cat were before, and you're polite."

Tor raised his eyebrows, wondering what exactly such high-ranking personages would want with one young man. Then he remembered the way he moved, that he'd trained himself to silence and stillness and alertness past what most humans could master, and decided that perhaps he shouldn't ask. It might wind up too similar to what he occasionally did, and then he'd have to send the information back home, even though there really wasn't any need to do so at this point in time.

"I haven't met anyone who was not afraid of me before, save for those from my home," Tor said. "It is fascinating. Refreshing, really."

Cay nodded. "Like new things much, sir?"

"Rather," he said, watching the human seated across from him. It was worth trying, at the least. "And if I were instead to make a request of you, that you help me to learn your country better in exchange for learning of my kind... what would I receive as an answer?"

"Disappear sometimes, can't help it. But when I can - then yes," Cay answered. "Here?"

"Yes." There wasn't, in Tor's mind, another option, and to illustrate his point he shifted out of his human body, stretching out at the foot of the tree.

"No-one else to frighten," Cay said, nodding again. "Makes sense. Want me to leave now?"

Tor grumbled - not particularly, but if Cay wanted to go he wasn't going to get up and stalk him or something ridiculous like that. Cay smiled, slowly.

"Right. My time or yours?"

A valid question, but after the frustrations of the past few months Torahk felt like curling up in tiger form and staying that way. Yawning, he stared at the human, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. Cay's body had relaxed again as soon as Tor had changed shapes, and he wondered idly whether the human would be quite so calm if Tor were doing anything other than lying there.

--That was a thought, actually, and his tail lashed against the ground, ears pricking forward. Cay tilted his head to the side and gave a soft laugh.

"Normal cat would be playful. Weres any different?"

In answer he stretched and stood up, stalking Cay as if he were a deer. Cay laughed again as he neared, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them, eyes never leaving Tor's own. "Not so much, then."

The rock that Cay sat on was level with the tiger's back, so when Tor reached it he paused. Then he reared up, setting his front paws on it and leaning in until his face nearly touched the human's, and took in a deep breath, sampling the man's scent. It was sharp with sweat, recent exertion, and carried the smell of the seashore. Was that where he'd been before coming to the palace? He breathed in again and again, re-memorizing it, his eyes drifting half-shut, and only recalled himself when Cay's head fell forward to rest against his own, and Cay blew in his face. For the second time that day he let out a startled chuff, opening his eyes wide.

The human made an amused sound. "Trying to find out where I've been or just like the smell?"

Because of the impertinence, and also because he was still feeling playful, Tor dropped his head and shoved the man hard enough in the chest that he fell over backwards. In the half-second during the fall Cay tucked himself into a tight ball, rolling to his feet as soon as he hit the ground - impressive for a human. Tor made a pleased sound before leaping the rock and landing just to the side, and, incidentally, knocking Cay over again. This time he pinned him with a paw before he could stand back up, then lay down so that his head and paws rested on the man's chest.

Amazingly, he still could not find fear or tension in the human's scent or frame. Instead Cay's hand came up to scratch at his ears, and Torakh's eyes nearly crossed at the sensation. It had been years since anyone had dared that. It felt incredible, and he sighed with pleasure, paws kneading reflexively at the bulky winter clothing beneath them. Cay echoed his sigh.

"Good to be away from them..."

Strange. What reason would Cay have to avoid the crowds of humans? Certainly he seemed comfortable enough - more than comfortable - in Tor's presence. But then, Tor was beginning to suspect that that was only because he was a weretiger, and if that was not the oddest of reversals he didn't know what was. Either way, it didn't matter enough to him right then to interrupt the head scratches, so he only huffed agreement and shut his eyes, luxuriating in the attention.

They might have been there for quite some time had Cay not begun to shiver. The first tremors caught Tor by surprise, and he rumbled, nudging at Cay's chest with his muzzle. The man offered an apologetic smile.

"Get cold easy - not really bred for this sort of weather."

This sort...? Tor wrinkled his muzzle, looking around. The snow was so light it almost seemed to hover above the ground, and he couldn't detect even the smallest bite in the air, even with only his summer coat to warm him. But the human beneath him, even through all of his winter clothing, was shivering, limbs and torso spasming in an effort to keep warm. He grumbled and stood up, changing shapes as he did so.

"This is not cold," he informed the man, noticing that Cay had already drawn back a little.

"For you," Cay said. "But wishing won't give me your coat or heat."

"I suppose not," Torakh replied, looking him over with a critical eye. Standing had not, apparently, done him any good, as he was still shivering. He shook his head and turned to go back inside; Cay dropped in to walk beside him, arms tucked about his torso and head bent low into his coat. "Where do you live?"

"Castle when I'm not working," Cay said. "Come here at nights, when I want to get away. Not hard to find me, sir."

The word made Tor wonder again at the man's seeming withdrawal from other humans - Cay hadn't used it when Tor was in tiger-shape, aside from that first surprised greeting. He had a suspicion that Cay would bolt if he mentioned it, however, and had no desire to try another fruitless hunt, so stored it away as a question to be answered later. "Not when you want to be," he said. It came out more sarcastic than he'd intended.

Cay turned his head and actually looked at him, then grinned. "Try to find me in the last couple months? Different when I'm working, but I'm not now. You shouldn't have any problems."

"Good."

Then they were in the castle proper, and Tor turned to go to his rooms as Cay went down a different corridor. Normally he would have walked there as a human, but the gardens had left him in a strange sort of mood, and he meandered his way through in tiger shape. The burning frustration was gone, and he suspected his staff would be grateful for it, but it had left behind a deeper curiosity that he entirely intended to fulfil over the next months - regardless of whether Cay disappeared again.

His scent was fresh now, after all. And given that, trailing him would be kitten's play.