The scene of the failed summoning quickly developed into what could only be described as whatever a group of people are before they become a mob, complete with chaos, screaming, and panic. From what I could gather, I was supposed to be in the body on the table instead of being a small cat, but something had evidently gone wrong, and it was a big problem that I wasn’t there. Not my fault though. I did feel bad for whatever had gone wrong, but I didn’t particularly feel like sticking around the scene. It’s not like I had a way to let anyone know who I was or that I particularly cared to go through the trouble of doing so, so I slipped away silently and unnoticed. Who’s gonna be suspicious of a cat when their god just seemingly abandoned them?

On that topic, why was I a cat? Did the goddess, Radia, mess something up, or was it the summoning ritual the people here did that went wrong? Was there a way back to being human? Did I still have to do my whole quest thing? I didn’t particularly want to, but it would be a whole lot harder now.

The questions and worries faded for the moment as I made my way into the city that seemed to be my new home. It was rather nice, although there wasn’t much technology about. There were plenty of stalls open with foods both familiar and new. Some shops even appeared to be selling magical and enchanted items, with what appeared to be adventurers going in and out of them! The city appeared to be mostly populated by humans, probably about 85% of the population at least. So far I had seen a few elves, one or two dwarves (or perhaps just short people, how am I supposed to know the difference), and an assortment of nearly human people with varying animal ears and tails.

All in all, it was a completely foreign place with new fantastical things to see everywhere, mysteries to be uncovered around every corner. The world itself operated on a completely different system than what I was used to with magic, heroics, and multiple races and species of wildlife. Such a sight would easily inspire awe in just about anyone, making them realize just how small their world was before.

I, however, was hungry, tired, and really could not care less at the moment. Wow, cool, a large place with varied cultures and a diverse set of people that come together to make a unique society. That’s every city. Literally every single one. And magic doesn’t help. At all. I cannot do magic, and even if I could, it wouldn’t be as convenient as having a phone to order food from.

How am I supposed to get food anyway? I can’t speak and I have no money, both of which are pretty essential to the process of buying food. So that leaves me the more non-traditional options. Begging for it, stealing from a vendor, and hunting my own food. Stealing and hunting both require effort, finesse, and experience, all of which I lacked, but anyone down on their luck can beg.

I wandered around until I came across a relatively busy street. Lots of foot traffic meant it was more likely for someone to take pity on me, right? I curled myself up in a small nook between the sidewalk and a building, fitting snugly in place. Being a cat made me far more flexible obviously, and being curled up in a perfectly me-sized place was quite comfortable. I looked up at the people passing by, hoping at least one would notice me and hopefully part with some of their food.

Around 30 minutes passed, and not a single person had taken pity on me. I had gotten a few people to pet me, which was quite nice as it turns out, and a few children had tugged on their parent’s sleeves and pointed at me excitedly when they saw me, but no one had even thought to give the poor starving street cat a bite of bread. I was putting on my very best puppy-dog eyes (despite the unfitting name), but the problem was obvious to me. I was simply a cat in a mildly cute position that was completely normal for a cat, no one knew I was trying to get food. I needed a sign if I was going to make this work, but that would require knowing how to write without opposable thumbs, and it’s not like I had paper just lying around anyway. No, my harsh and fruitless half hour of sitting around had taught me a lesson. If I wanted food, I had to do something for it.

That something would have to be stealing. Hunting seemed far harder, but that wasn’t even the biggest problem with it. If I stole something from a restaurant or a market stall, it would be prepared. Cooked to perfection on a slow fire, perhaps seasoned with the finest of salts and spices. And if I hunted for mice, if this world has them, what would I get? Unprepared meat, no extra flavor from seasonings, filled with bones and organs, and probably less food overall.

I refused to stoop to that level, I’d steal the finest steak this city had to offer.

I walked down the streets towards the sunset, trying to ignore my growing hunger. Eventually I came across a market I had seen earlier, quite a few merchants had left or were packing up their stands, but there were plenty of stalls still open. Fresh fruits, arcane books, assorted pies, gemstones, ornate knives, potions, fancy dresses, and so much more. But no gourmet steak. That was distinctly not there, along with non-gourmet steak, or any cooked meat in general. There was a fishmonger and a butcher, but I was here to avoid eating cold, raw meat anyway.

Eventually, I decided on someone’s bakery stand. Everything was neatly arranged in baskets upon a tablecloth with prices in front of each basket, really quite a nice setup. There was an almost unreasonable amount of warm, fresh-baked bread, so one roll or brioche bun wouldn’t be missed. Probably.

The baker manning the stand had some bread in the oven right now. Or what I assumed was this world’s equivalent of an oven. Looked more like a box with some weird drawings, similar to runes, with a clear face to show the dough slowly rising from the outside. The loaf currently in there was almost done, I just needed to wait for the baker to turn around to take it out, and I’d put my genius plan into action. As soon as his back was turned, I’d leap up onto the table, grab a piece of bread small enough that it wouldn’t be missed, but big enough to be filling, and I’d run off before anyone even noticed what I was doing with dinner successfully obtained.

There were no customers around to notice or stop me. The instant the baker looked towards the oven, I was moving. I bundled up on my back legs to jump as I’d seen cats do back home, and springboarded myself up to the top of the table, my front paws triumphantly touching down on the surface.

My back paws, however, were still flailing wildly in the air below me. I dug my front claws into the tablecloth, desperately kicking the air in an attempt to boost myself up. The baker wasn't done with the oven yet, I could still do this! If I could dig my rear claws into the cloth, maybe I could claw my way up to the delicious, tantalizingly close breads.

I pierced the cloth with my claws, no longer holding on just with my front limbs. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief, and began to push with my back legs to bring my body up the table.

This, of course, was too much for the poor tablecloth, as it quickly slid off the table, taking me, the baskets, and the bread inside the baskets with it on it’s short yet swift journey to the ground. The impact wasn’t terribly noisy at least, more of a cascade of thuds than the clanging crash I had been expecting.

“HEY!!” Rang out the voice of the baker, carrying all the justified annoyance of someone who’s entire day of work had been wiped out by an incredibly incompetent cat. I heard the oven slam shut, and footsteps fast approaching me.

I tried to ignore the pain that comes with falling twice one’s body height onto a stone surface as I struggled to untangle myself from the tablecloth that had enveloped me. Stupid claws pierced through it way too well. My final claw came out of the fabric with a satisfying little twik moments before the cloth was lifted, revealing a very understandably pissed off baker.

The right thing to do in this situation would be to take accountability for my actions, acknowledge that I was in the wrong both when I tried to steal and when I ruined everything, and help in whatever way I could to pay back the damages I just caused.

The right thing to do required a whole lot more effort than trying to run away though.

I looked up at the baker, my eyes as wide and the pupils big, a look of shining innocence designed to pierce even the most hardened of hearts. A look that said that the whole mess behind me was but a mere coincidence that I, the most pure and adorable of cats, could never have caused, and even if I did it was an accident that I was deeply sorry for. Please put the rolling pin down.

The baker’s scowl faded a bit, replaced more by a sadness for his ruined goods as he looked around the scene. A sigh of exhaustion left him, and he crouched down to give my head a scritch before going about slowly picking up the scattered bread. It seemed I was off the hook for my crimes, but I was still hungry. This was all just gonna get thrown out now, right? Some of the stuff on the ground was awfully tempting…

“OH YOU ABSOLUTE--”

The baker’s cry faded into the background as I scampered away on my little criminal paws with his croissant.