Chapter Text
Baby strutted into the living room, fully prepared to take her afternoon nap on her favorite chair, the recliner. But today, something was very wrong. Her cat brother, Tabby, was in the chair. He lay there with his belly up and paws twitching as he dreamed about chasing mice or whatever nonsense filled his brain.
The audacity! The recliner had been Baby’s long before Tabby ever existed in the house.
Tabby was the newest addition to the household. He showed up in the yard about five months ago, completely emaciated. Rose, being a cat lover, fed him and eventually took him in for good.
Baby had been against it from day one. Tabby meowed too much. He played with her toys, slept in her spots, and worst of all, had the fighting spirit of a damp sponge. When she chased him, he ran. When she swatted him, he cowered and hid.
She crouched low, slinking across the rug like a jungle cat. Her pupils narrowed to thin slits. Quietly, she crept to the recliner, placed both paws on the cushion edge, and let out a loud, menacing meow.
Tabby blinked awake just in time to see Baby launch. There was an explosion of fur and startled yowling as she pummeled him with her paws. Tabby tumbled off the recliner in a panicked flail and bolted down the hall.
"Baby! No!"
Rose rushed in, wielding the dreaded water bottle. Baby squeaked indignantly as a fine mist hit her fur. Soaked, Baby darted out of the living room, her ears pinned back and tail fluffed like a bottle brush. She bolted down the basement stairs and leapt onto Rose’s computer chair, seething.
That coward didn’t even fight back as usual.
She spun in a circle on the seat and froze as she glanced at the computer screen. The screen was glowing bright green. The chair started vibrating, and a low humming filled the room. Before Baby could react, the monitor flashed, and she vanished into thin air.
The next thing Baby knew, she found herself standing in the soft grass just outside a massive white stone city. She blinked in confusion. There were pink banners fluttering overhead, plastered with hearts and ribbons. Tents lined the road outside the massive gates, where vendors shouted cheerfully. People wandered around carrying boxes of chocolates and flowers while guards stood nearby awkwardly.
Baby wrinkled her nose at the strong perfume scent in the air. She took a few steps forward, her tail high, weaving between boots. A dropped chocolate truffle caught her eye. She sniffed it and flicked it away with disdain. Definitely not a cat treat.
Then a sharp voice caught her attention.
“HEY! You! Fuzzy!”
Baby turned to see a goblin in a pink and purple Crown Chemical Company coat leaning out of one of the tents. He squinted at her, then grinned.
“Yeah, you. Come over here,” he said.
Baby narrowed her eyes and started to walk away.
“Oh no, you don’t,” the goblin said, hopping down and scurrying over. “C’mon, don’t be like that. We’re swamped.”
He plopped a small satchel on the ground and flipped it open. Inside were stacks of pink envelopes, soaked so thoroughly in perfume that Baby grimaced. The smell was worse than that stuff Rose puts on her once a month to prevent fleas.
“We’re short on couriers, and you look like you could use some adventure,” the goblin explained. He produced a piece of paper from his pocket and angled it down so Baby could see.
CROWN CHEMICAL DELIVERY ROUTE
Gul’dan
Kel’Thuzad
Rommath
Zovaal, the Jailer
Illidan Stormrage
Gallywix
(The list goes on with several more names.)
Baby blinked. She had no idea who any of these people were.
He tucked the paper in the satchel. “All you gotta do is deliver an envelope to each one on the list.”
Baby eyed the satchel warily. “How am I supposed to find all these people? I’m not even from around here.”
The goblin grinned. “Lucky for you, we got upgrades! Here-” He fished a strange, glowing stone from his pocket and shoved it at her. “It’s a teleportation device. One little boop and poof, you’ll be whisked right to their location. Drop off the card and get back here, and you’ll be rewarded. Also, please, PLEASE don’t eat the cards this time. The last animal courier did, and if it happens again I’ll get fired.”
Baby thought about turning him down, but she had nothing better to do, so why not? “Fine,” she said, sweeping her tail around her feet.
“Deal,” the goblin said, grinning even wider. “Happy Love Is in the Air! Now get out there and spread the joy!”
Baby grumbled as the goblin slung the satchel across her shoulders. Hopefully, none of these people had access to a spray bottle.
She checked the list and jabbed at the teleport stone. There was a pop of green light, and suddenly BAM! Baby landed smack in the middle of a sickly, misty forest, face-to-face with a hunched, scowling orc warlock with a beard.
Gul’dan was stirring a bubbling green cauldron with his cane. He did not look like he wanted visitors, especially not the furry kind. Hopefully Baby wouldn’t become soup.
Baby carefully walked right up to him and dropped the satchel at his feet.
He glared at her. “What is this?”
She sat, tail curled neatly, and reached in to drag out his Valentine. He took it with two claws, squinting at the pink handwriting before reading it aloud.
“Roses are red, demons are green,
I think you’re hot… for an infernal machine.”
A fel imp nearby started snickering. Gul’dan’s eye twitched, and the Valentine burst into flames in his palm, showering Baby with a cloud of perfumed smoke.
Baby’s fur stood on end. “Oh, nope. Nope, nope, not today!” she squeaked, scrambling to grab the satchel with her teeth.
She bolted away, paws thumping through the moss. She hid behind a rock and pawed frantically at the next rune on the teleport stone. She vanished thankfully, before Gul’dan could decide if cats made good cauldron seasoning.
The next thing Baby knew was she was in a very cold and lightly dim place with greenish lighting. She crept forward, tail puffed, peering around. Bones littered the halls, and flickering candles cast weird shadows across walls lined with cobwebs.
She padded down one long corridor, then another, and another. Every room looked the same: too many bones, too many skulls, not enough cozy chairs. She poked her head into a room filled with shelves of magical tomes but saw no sign of her quarry.
Baby scowled. “Who builds a place this big and doesn’t put up any signs?”
After a few more circles, frustration growing, she spotted a fluffy cat bed in the corner, miraculously unoccupied. Her paws ached. The bed looked soft, and she decided to take a short nap. She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, a chilly voice echoed above her head:
“Excuse me. Why are you in my bed?”
Baby snapped awake and nearly rolled off the cushion. Hovering beside her was a ghostly Siamese cat with glowing blue eyes.
She blinked. “Are you… Kel’Thuzad?”
The ghost cat gave a soft huff. “No, I’m Mr. Bigglesworth. Kel’Thuzad is my master. This is my bed. Who are you?”
Baby sat up, slightly embarrassed. “I’m Baby. I have a job. I’m supposed to deliver a card to Kel’Thuzad. It’s for Love Is in the Air, I think. Don’t bite me; I’m just the messenger.”
Mr. Bigglesworth’s eyes widened. “A card? For my master? That’s unheard of. No one ever sends him anything except death threats.”
Baby snorted. “He’s not going to turn me into a skeleton, is he? The last guy burned my card and almost cooked me!”
The ghost cat shook his head. “I don’t think so. My master likes cats. Come on. He’s in his laboratory.”
Baby scooped up her satchel and followed Mr. Bigglesworth down the eeriest hallway she’d ever seen. Shadows stretched and twisted along the walls, every corner packed with more bones than a butcher’s nightmare. If not for her ghostly guide, she’d have gotten lost at least five times.
Eventually, they reached a heavy iron door, etched with runes. Mr. Bigglesworth gave it a gentle headbutt, and it creaked open on its own.
Inside, Kel’Thuzad hovered in the center of a vast laboratory, swirling runes circling his skeletal frame. He was deep in thought, muttering to himself as a book hovered obediently nearby, flipping its own pages. Magical crystals cast a sickly blue glow over the room.
“Master,” Mr. Bigglesworth announced in his best regal-cat voice, “You have a visitor.”
Kel’Thuzad looked up, eye sockets glowing, and stared at Baby. “A cat? In my sanctum?”
Baby swallowed. “I have a delivery for Love Is in the Air.” She rooted through the satchel, pulled out the envelope with “Kel’Thuzad” scribbled in pink, and pushed it forward with a shaky paw.
The lich stared at the card. “For… me?”
Mr. Bigglesworth nodded. “It’s true. No one ever sends you cards. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
Kel’Thuzad carefully took the envelope and read aloud:
“You’re bone-chillingly beautiful,
Be my unholy valentine.”
The lich was quiet for a long time. Then, almost shyly, he said, “No one’s sent me a Valentine… ever. This is… oddly pleasant. Even if it does smell like my grandma.” As he looked at Baby, he didn’t seem quite so scary anymore. “Thank you. Would you perhaps like some fish?”
Baby, shocked to still have all her fur attached, nodded. “Of course! I love fish!”
Mr. Bigglesworth looked smug. “Told you. My master likes cats.”
Kel’Thuzad floated over to a silver dish on the counter and conjured some fish on it. Then he placed it in front of the cats. “I’d offer caviar, but the finest delicacy in these halls is frozen Nettlefish, straight from the wastes of Northrend.”
Mr. Bigglesworth purred, and Baby, not one to turn down a free meal, ate gratefully. The Nettlefish was cold, a little spiky, but surprisingly tasty, like salmon with a side of frostbite.
After a contented tongue bath and a thorough whisker cleaning, Baby flicked her ear. “Thanks for the snack, but I’ve got more cards to deliver.”
Mr. Bigglesworth purred. “You’re welcome here anytime, as long as you don’t take over my bed.”
Kel’Thuzad gave her a small wave. “Travel safely, small courier.”
Baby flicked her tail in response and grabbed her satchel. She jabbed the rune on her teleport stone, bracing herself. The world spun, and she found herself in the heart of Silvermoon City.
A pair of Blood Elf guards blinked in shock as a tabby cat materialized out of thin air.
Baby paused, eyeing their shiny boots, and meowed, “Hey, you two. I’m looking for Rommath. Where can I find him?”
One guard glanced at the other, then pointed toward an impressive building just behind them. “Grand Magister is in the Hall, straight ahead. Try not to knock anything over, cat.”
Baby gave them a dignified tail flick. “Like I’d ever knock anything over on purpose...” She thought as she made her way to the grand building they’d indicated.
Inside, Grand Magister Rommath was hunched over an ornate desk, deeply engrossed in paperwork and a mug of tea that was definitely not his first of the day. His expression looked like he didn’t want to be bothered by dimension-hopping animals.
When Baby approached, he glanced up, his brow furrowing. “What is this? Did Aethas send another complaint about my security protocols?”
Baby dropped the envelope on his desk and meowed, “Nope. Special delivery!”
Rommath hesitated, then picked up the card. His eyes narrowed at the sender’s name scrawled in bold, inky script: “FROM: Umbric.”
He muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” and flipped it open.
Inside was a drawing of two male elves in mage robes kissing. One was wearing crimson, the other was wearing purple. There was a heart in the middle and a doodle of a mana wyrm at the top looking confused.
Rommath began to read aloud, his voice growing more incredulous with each line:
“Rommath,
Admit it; you only exiled me because you couldn’t handle your feelings.
I miss you like mana addicts miss the Sunwell.
Let’s fight or make out soon.
Love, Umbric.”
Rommath’s eye twitched. He sighed softly and pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, as if trying to stave off an oncoming migraine.
“If he thinks this counts as an olive branch, he’s as delusional as ever.” He glared down at Baby. “I hope you’re not expecting a tip for this delivery.”
Baby, sensing that Silvermoon’s top mage was about two seconds from incinerating the nearest piece of furniture, wisely kept her mouth shut and shook her head.
Rommath tossed the card onto his desk, muttering, “Tell Umbric the only thing I’m embracing this year is a restraining order. Now shoo.”
Baby, more than happy to escape without being turned into a polymorphed frog, pawed at her teleport stone and vanished.
This time Baby found herself in a realm that felt like a prison. As she padded through the dark stone corridors of Torghast, she passed dozens of iron cages, each one holding a glowing, miserable soul.
“Help! Save us!”
“Please, little cat! Free me!”
Baby flattened her ears as she scurried by. Oh no, nope, nope. I do not want to end up in one of those.
She picked up speed and slipped into the next room. Inside, the Jailer was sitting on his throne. His bare torso was on full display along with those infamous nipples and a huge gaping hole right through his chest.
Baby stared. Why did he have a giant hole? Was he missing a piece? Was something supposed to go there? She almost wanted to stick her paw through just to see if it went all the way out the back.
The Jailer watched as Baby entered, his gaze following her every move. Baby set the card gingerly at his feet and looked up at him expectantly. Her green eyes drifted back to his bare torso, and curiosity got the better of her.
“How come you’ve got a big hole right there?” she asked. “Is that where your snacks go?”
The Jailer seemed genuinely taken aback by the question. He glanced down at the empty space in his chest, then back at Baby. “No. It is not for snacks. It is a mark of what was lost when I was the Arbiter.”
Baby blinked. “Huh. Well, it looks like you could fit a lot of snacks in there, if you wanted.”
He stared at her for a little while longer, then, perhaps deciding he’d rather not continue this line of questioning, turned his attention to the perfumed card at his feet and picked it up to read.
“You locked away your heart…
But left your nipples exposed.
Be my beefy bald Valentine.
P.S. Do those things get cold, or are they just for show? Asking for a friend.”
The Jailer stared at the card, then down at his chest. He frowned, poked one nipple experimentally, and muttered, “These are not… for mortal concern.”
“So what are they for? Do you make milk? Because when I was a kitten, my siblings would fight over the best nipples because they had the good milk. Is yours, like, special?” Baby asked.
The Jailer’s eyes widened, looking completely at a loss. “I… I do not… dispense milk.”
A few Mawsworn standing nearby started cackling.
Baby snorted. “Weird design choice. I guess not everybody’s built for snacks.”
The Jailer, undaunted, put the card aside. “Is your task complete?”
Baby gave the cages a nervous glance. “Yep! All done here, sir! Good luck with your… uh… chest stuff.”
She ran out of the room as fast as her paws could carry her. When she was far enough away, she pawed her teleport stone and went off to the next location.
Next, she found herself on the rooftop of a large temple, the sky overhead swirling a sickly fel green. She glanced down at her list and saw her next delivery was for someone named Illidan Stormrage. Even the name sounded scary, like something you’d hiss from under the bed to spook your siblings.
She looked up, and her stomach dropped. Yup, he was standing right in front of her. His massive wings spread out behind him, and fel tattoos glowed on his bare, nipple-less chest. He was every bit as terrifying as his name promised.
“What are you doing here, little creature?” he demanded.
Baby’s tail swished low. She took a cautious step forward, her ears flat. “Are… are you Illidan Stormrage? Because I, uh, have a delivery for you.” She nosed her satchel as if to prove it, hoping he wouldn’t turn her into a snack.
Illidan nodded. “I am. State your business.”
Baby fished out the perfumed envelope and placed it in front of him. She couldn’t help it. Her eyes immediately drifted to his bare, tattooed chest. She squinted. Her head tilted one way, then the other.
“Um… why don’t you have nipples? The last guy had huge ones, and you don’t have any. How do you get milk?” she blurted, still staring at his perfectly smooth pectorals.
Illidan’s eyebrow twitched. He glanced down at his own chest and then back at her. “I sacrificed everything,” he muttered, “and apparently that included basic anatomy.”
Baby blinked, unimpressed. “So… no milk? Not even a drop? Huh.” Her tail flicked in bewilderment. “Guess that’s why you’re so cranky.”
Illidan shot her a look like he was considering throwing her off the temple roof. He stooped, picked up the envelope, and sniffed cautiously. “What is this?”
“Love Is In The Air delivery,” Baby said, perking up. “I didn’t write it, and I have no idea who did, but it smells awful.”
He eyed the card suspiciously, then opened it and read aloud:
“Dear Illidan,
You’re not prepared for this kind of love.
Did your nipples get lost in Outland?
It’s okay; not everyone can pull off the shirtless look.”
Illidan let out a frustrated sigh. “If this is some new form of psychological warfare from Kil’jaeden, it is regrettably effective.”
Baby purred. “If you ever find your nipples, let me know. My research is ongoing.”
Illidan’s wings twitched with annoyance. “Leave me to my brooding, feline.”
“Gladly,” Baby chirped, already pawing at her teleport stone.
With a swish of magic, Baby appeared outside a goblin style mansion, surrounded by metal palm trees and neon lights. As she was checking her list, a pair of goblin security guards in suits and sunglasses blocked her path.
“Whoa there, fuzzball! No pets allowed,” one barked.
Baby plopped her satchel at her paws and meowed, “I have a delivery for Gallywix. It’s a love letter from the Crown Chemical Company.”
The guards exchanged a look, shrugged, and led her inside through a hall lined with portraits of Gallywix until they reached a set of double doors.
“Boss is in the sauna,” one announced, pushing open the door and waving her in.
Baby trotted into the steam-filled room and was immediately assaulted by the thick, musky scent of sweat and cigar smoke. Gallywix was sitting on a bench on the other side of the room. His towel barely covered his bulging green gut and the amount of fat rolls on him suggested he’d spent more time in the buffet line than at a gym. He reeked of cigar smoke and that sour undertone of unwashed goblin. She’d sniffed litter boxes that smelled fresher.
Who would ever send this goblin a love letter? She tried, really tried, to picture Gallywix in a relationship with someone actually snuggling up to him, listening to his wheezing laugh, and willingly inhaling that aroma. It was impossible. She didn’t even know how his staff could stand to be around him.
“Eh? What’s this room service? Or is this one of them weird resort amenities I didn’t order?” He asked, watching her approach him.
Baby did her best not to gag. She plopped the envelope at his disgusting looking feet. “Delivery. Try not to sweat on it.”
Gallywix snatched up the card, his eyes lighting up. “Heh! A love note, huh? Bet it’s from one of my secret admirers. Can't blame ‘em! Who wouldn’t want a piece of all this?” He gave his belly a proud slap.
Baby stared, unimpressed, hoping he’d hurry up and read the card so she could get on to the next delivery.
Gallywix placed his cigar in the ashtray. He peeled open the card and grinned wider, completely convinced he was about to read the most flattering Valentine in Azeroth.
“To Gallywix,
You may be rich, but no amount of gold can buy you a decent personality or a better smell.
Here’s hoping you find someone who can love you for your money because nothing else about you is appealing.
Your Secret Admirer (definitely not paid to write this)”
The grin slid right off Gallywix’s face. His eyes bulged, and his ears turned a deep shade of red. “WHAT?! Who sent this?!” he roared, waving the card angrily at Baby.
Baby took a cautious step back. “Hey, don’t look at me. I just deliver them; I don’t write them.”
Gallywix sputtered. “I oughta sue for emotional damages! Get back here, you-!”
But Baby was already out the door, calling over her shoulder, “Enjoy your sauna, Moneybags. Try not to take it too personally!”
Before Gallywix could catch up to her, she smacked her paw against her teleport stone and vanished.
The world spun, and Baby’s paws landed on icy black stone. The air was chilly, and everything smelled faintly of death. Everywhere she looked, she saw banners decorated with skulls or weird undead creatures walking around.
As she padded forward, she thought about all the strange deliveries she had today. The only person so far who hadn’t made her fur crawl was that cranky blood elf in Silvermoon. Well, okay, Kel’Thuzad had been nice even if he looked like a Halloween decoration. Everyone else was a parade of creeps, weirdos, and walking health code violations. No wonder Crown Chemical had a courier shortage.
A skeletal horse rattled past and let out a ghostly whinny that made her fur stand on end.
“Okay,” Baby muttered, “this is officially creepier than the one with the cages.”
She checked her delivery list and saw she was supposed to deliver to a guy named Darion Mograine. Next to his name were the words in bold red ink: VERY SERIOUS GUY.
“Oh great…”
Soon she found herself in a chilly hall decorated with swords and more banners. At the far end stood a tall, armored figure with glowing blue eyes and a perpetually grim expression: Darion Mograine, leader of the Four Horsemen.
He turned his attention to her, his voice as cold as the room: “You do not belong here, mortal.”
Baby paused, her tail tip twitching, and looked up at the imposing knight. “Uh… are you Darion Mograine?” she asked, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.
He nodded. “I am. State your purpose.”
She fished in her satchel and set the perfumed envelope on the icy stone before him. “Special delivery. Love Is in the Air. Please don’t stab the messenger.”
Darion reached down and picked it up in his gauntleted hand. Baby craned her neck to watch him open the card.
“I admire a man who keeps his armor shiny and his horse even shinier.
Wanna trade shampoo tips?
Stay frosty, death knight.”
Darion stared at the card with a bewildered look. Then he let out a breath that fogged the air. “…This is the strangest piece of correspondence I have received.”
Baby shifted her paws. “So… you’re not mad?”
He shook his head. “No. I suppose after everything I’ve seen, it would take more than a weird letter to rattle me. At least it wasn’t cursed.”
She relaxed a little, then tilted her head, studying him. “Okay,” she said, genuinely curious, “but how do you breathe in that thing?”
Darion blinked. “I… don’t. Not in the traditional sense.”
Baby frowned. “Huh. Seems inconvenient.”
“It is,” he admitted flatly.
She stood on her hind legs with her paws on his thighs, peering up at the helmet. “So no sneezing? No choking on perfume?” She shuddered. “Because these cards smell bad.”
Darion glanced at the envelope and nodded. “Yes. That much I can still sense.”
Baby sat back, satisfied. “Good. Because if you did breathe, this one might’ve killed you for real.”
“Your delivery is complete,” he said. “You may go. And… thank you. I suppose.”
Baby flicked her tail proudly. “You’re welcome. You’re officially less creepy than most of the people on my route,” she said.
She tapped her teleport stone and materialized in the middle of a busy tavern in Boralas. Laughter and music echoed around her. It was a nice change from the previous places she’s been.
She checked her list: Flynn Fairwind. He sounded like a normal guy. Except there were a lot of people in the bar, and Baby had no idea what he looked like. Baby glanced around, completely at a loss. Which one was Flynn? Was he the guy arm-wrestling a dwarf or the one passed out under the table?
Not wanting to waste time, she hopped up onto a stool beside a friendly-looking Kul’Tiran waitress and meowed for attention.
The waitress blinked down. “Well, aren’t you a bold one. Did you lose your owner?”
Baby flicked her tail and pointed her nose at the list. “I’m looking for Flynn Fairwind. I have a delivery for him.”
The waitress grinned and nodded toward the far side of the tavern, where a cluster of sailors were hanging on every word of a dashing man with a perfectly groomed mustache. “That’s him, the loud one with the ponytail and mustache. Good luck.”
Baby wound her way through the crowd until she reached Flynn’s table. She grabbed his envelope in her mouth and placed her front paws on his thigh.
Flynn looked down and grinned. “Well, well! Never thought I’d get mail from a cat. Am I being recruited for a secret feline mission?”
Baby placed the card in his lap. “Delivery. I don’t know what’s in it, but hopefully nothing bad.”
Flynn laughed. “Let’s see what we’ve got, then!”
He broke the seal and read the card aloud to the bar.
“Dear Flynn,
Your charm is legendary, your smile is dangerous,
But let’s talk about that mustache.
Does it have its own personality?
Does it whisper flirting tips to you at night?
Asking because I’m pretty sure it does more work than you do.
Happy Valentine’s Day, you handsome menace!”
Flynn laughed again, twirling the end of said mustache between his fingers. “Ha! See? Even my facial hair’s got admirers.”
She flicked her tail. “I bet you could use it to distract people while you steal their snacks.”
Flynn winked, grinning wide. “You’ve got a sharp eye, little miss. This ‘stache has gotten me into and out of more trouble than I’ll ever admit in public. The key is, you never let ‘em see where the real action is. Keep their eyes on the mustache, and the biscuits are all yours.”
He reached down and gave Baby a gentle scratch behind the ears. “You’ve got the instincts of a proper rogue, you know that? You’d fit right in with my crew.”
Baby purred, leaning into his hand. “I get seasick just sitting in a rocking chair, so I’ll have to pass.”
Flynn chuckled. “Fair enough! Not every adventurer’s meant for the high seas or the high waves.”
Baby hopped down from his thigh and nosed her satchel, checking that it was still closed and no one had stolen her remaining envelopes. “Good luck with the mustache maintenance. I’d better get going. I have more cards to deliver.”
“Safe travels, little courier,” he said, giving her one more scratch behind the ears.
“Goodbye, Flynn Fairwind,” she said. Then she tapped her teleport stone and vanished.
Baby found herself in the middle of a swampy area, the ground muddy and soft under her paws. Nearby, a collection of huts made out of driftwood and shells clustered around a pond.
She checked her list and saw her next recipient was Murky the murloc. What the heck is a murloc? As Baby stared at the paper in confusion, a high-pitched, gurgling noise caught her attention.
From behind a bush, a green, bug-eyed creature sprang into view. He waved his little trident and let out a sound that could have been anything from “hello” to “prepare for doom”:
“Mrrglglglglgl!”
Baby blinked. “Uh… hi?”
Murky hopped in place, waving his webbed hands. “Mrrrggllglll!”
Baby frowned. Wow. He talks exactly like Tabby when he’s hungry. She looked at the card and then set it down in front of him.
Murky sniffed it, stuck out his tongue, and licked the envelope. Satisfied, he opened it. Inside, the card read: “Aaaaaughibbrgubugbugrguburgle!”
Murky let out a delighted “Mrggglllrr!” and started jumping in circles. Other murlocs popped up and joined the celebration with a group “Mrggglllrr!”
Baby sat back, dazed, as a dozen little murlocs paraded past singing and dancing. “I bet Tabby wishes he could party like this,” Baby muttered, flicking mud off her paw. “Still wish I knew what he was saying, though.”
She checked her list. Only two names left. Almost done. She tapped her teleport stone and then found herself in what looked like a machine factory. Sparks flew overhead, and whirring gears and steam vents lined the cavernous room.
Baby looked around with wide eyes. “Where am I, a toaster factory?” she mumbled, just as a high-pitched, mechanical voice echoed across the room.
“Ah! Fascinating! Is this a feline subject or an autonomous delivery mechanism?”
She turned to see a small, gnome-shaped figure made of metal approaching her. “This must be Mimiron,” she thought. Her list said he was a legendary mechagnome inventor.
“I’m not a robot, if that’s what you’re wondering. I have a delivery for you.” She dropped the envelope at his feet.
Mimiron’s eyes lit up, literally. “Ah! Biological mail courier! Improbable but effective. I must take notes!” He scribbled in a floating notepad, then snatched up the envelope and examined it closely.
He sniffed. “Hmm. Olfactory profile: overwhelmingly floral. Possible chemical hazard. Delightful!”
He opened the card and read:
“To Mimiron,
You’re the only genius who could invent romance and then forget where he put it.
If love had gears, you’d still make it overly complicated.
Happy Love Is in the Air, you magnificent nerd.”
Mimiron beamed. “A mechanical mystery and a compliment in one package! Splendid! Would you care for a demonstration of my latest invention? It dispenses exactly 1.4 fish treats per minute.”
Baby’s ears perked up instantly. “Wait, did you say fish treats?”
Mimiron’s eyes lit up in delight. “Indeed! The Treat-O-Matic 9000! Would you like to test the beta cycle? There is only a 17% chance of mild static discharge.”
“Eh, worth it,” Baby said, already inching closer.
Mimiron pressed a button. With a happy ding!, the machine whirred, a little tray extended, and a perfectly crunchy fish treat dropped out. Baby snatched it up and crunched loudly. Delicious! This was much better than those Temptations treats Rose buys her.
A minute later, another treat appeared, then a third, though the third one came out slightly toasted and shot a tiny spark onto her whiskers.
She shook her head, unfazed. “Not bad! Kinda smoky. You should market these to cats. They would be a huge hit.”
Mimiron was delighted, furiously jotting down notes. “Excellent feedback! Shall I adjust the treat-browning algorithm or increase output speed to two per minute?”
Baby purred, “If you make it rain treats, you’ll be the most popular inventor in the world.”
Mimiron’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll begin the upgrade immediately!”
With a happy tummy, Baby finally stepped back. “Thanks for the snack and the science, but I got one last delivery to make.”
Baby checked her list one last time. Only one name remained. She blinked in surprise at who it was: her brother Tabby. Before she could even process that twist, her teleport stone lit up, and she was whisked away.
She appeared right back in her own living room. The afternoon sun slanted through the bay window, and there was her old rival Tabby, curled up on the recliner (her recliner!) with his paws twitching in some silly dream.
Baby approached, eyeing him suspiciously. It felt weird to be delivering a Valentine to the cat she spent most of her day plotting against. She dropped the final envelope in front of him. Tabby blinked awake, saw her, and flinched automatically. Then he caught sight of the card. He sniffed it, gave Baby a wary look, and pawed it open.
Inside, written in big, silly letters and decorated with heart stickers and a cartoon fish, it read:
“To Tabby,
You might be a wimp, a toy-stealer, and a nap spot thief,
but you’re still family, even if you never fight back.
Maybe you’re not so bad for a little brother.
Happy Love Is in the Air!
From: Baby”
Tabby stared at the card in disbelief. Then, with a rumbling purr, he nudged Baby in the shoulder and settled right back into the recliner, leaving just enough room for her to jump up beside him.
Baby hesitated, then leapt up and curled next to him, pretending it was just for the sunbeam and definitely not because it was nice to be home. As the two cats drifted off for a much-deserved nap, Baby decided that maybe, just maybe, delivering Valentines wasn’t so bad after all, especially when it brought her right back to where she belonged.