Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The weight of the sickle kept Puss grounded. It was as heavy as the waterlogged ropes around his arm and shoulders when he had last dueled Death. A solid reminder of everything he stood to lose.

Puss forced his doubts and worries to the back of his mind as he and Jan Serpent circled each other. There was a rancid smell coming from the net she held in her gloved hand. A glimmering sheen reflected on its twines’ embedded spikes as she approached on the richly carpeted floor.

Poison, Puss realized. She was done playing around. He couldn't let her touch him.

But she was standing in front of the only exit, and with the sickle weighing him down, Puss couldn’t evade her easily.

Puss feinted a stab at her leg. She jumped to dodge, but Puss went for the carpet instead, and pulled it out from under her feet right as she landed. The woman stumbled, and cried out when Puss’ thin blade stabbed her through the side of her knee. She grunted in pain as she leant on her other leg and threw her net at him. Puss used the carpet like a shield, and the poisoned spikes got stuck in the wool.

The cat narrowly avoided two thrown knives as he ran for the door, leapt on the handle, and unlocked it with his claw. When he got it open, Jan let out a sharp whistle. Puss found a dozen armed bandits on the other side.

He threw himself at them sword first with a yowl, sharp claws slashing any hand that came too close to the sickle as he parried their blades. One man grabbed his cape and got a kick to the nose.

Puss used his adversaries’ numbers to his advantage, slipping like an eel between blades that accidentally stabbed their comrades, sliding down their limbs and sinking his claws into any vulnerable spot he could reach. As soon as he touched the ground, the cat snaked in and out between their legs, scratching ankles and grabby hands out of his way.

Puss spotted a cracked window over the shoulders of his staggering enemies. A woman tried to catch him with a neck snare, but Puss passed his blade through the noose and used it to pull his attacker down. When the woman stumbled forward, the cat climbed her arm, and jumped off her shoulder towards the damaged window. He rolled himself into a ball midair, draped himself in his cape, and kicked through the glass with both booted feet.

He fell in a rain of sharp broken glass and landed on all fours in the snow. Puss immediately got up and fled towards the first narrow street he found.

The icy evening wind against his fur was a shock after the stuffy air of the ransacked house and the oppressive smell of sweat and iron. Puss took huge intakes of cold air as he kept close to the walls and raced in the direction of the setting sun. The heavy sickle thumped against his back with every step like a giant heartbeat; or a countdown.

There were guards at the western gate of the village, and no trace of Kitty, Perrito, or their wagon. Puss climbed a pine tree to hide in and scanned the roads through the snow-covered foliage, but the carriages he saw looked nothing like theirs, and were mostly driven by humans.

His fur started to bristle with the first signs of panic, when suddenly, something covered his mouth and muffled his startled scream.

"Shh, Puss!" a familiar voice whispered behind him. "Calm down, it’s me."

Puss turned round as soon as the gloved paws released him.

"What happened? Where are Lobo and the Bug?" Kitty asked him, eyes narrow with worry as she looked between him and the sickle.

Puss grabbed her shoulders.

"They took him, Kitty," he said in a hoarse voice. "They ambushed him, trapped him underground, his leg turned to gold, he couldn’t get out and I couldn’t do anything…!" he trailed off with a fearful shudder when he realized that Kitty was alone. "Where’s Perrito?!"

"Perrito is safe," she rushed to reassure him, and put her gloved paws over his. "What about the Bug?"

"He stayed behind," Puss hung his head in shame. "He didn’t want to leave Lobo’s side. I didn’t want to run either, but…" his eyes moved to the sharp curved blade that peeked out of his cape. The steel glinted a striking blood red where the last rays of sunlight hit it through the pine needles.

Kitty clenched his paws firmly:

"We’ll get them back," she promised. "The guards seized our wagon, but Perrito and I got away with the horses. We still have our magical items. It’ll be okay, Puss. Trust me."

Puss breathed heavily as she talked. Before he knew what he was doing, his face was buried in the crook of her neck. He breathed in the familiar scent of her warm fur like it could shield him from the cold and the descending darkness. Her arms closed around him in a light embrace.

"Come on, let’s get back to Perrito," she whispered against his fur. "You can tell me everything on the way."

Death did not have much sense of time left. But even underground, he could feel the night falling outside, as the full moon rose higher and brighter, lighting up the sky and bathing the earth in ancient magic.

The wolf might not get to see it, in the end. He could not even raise his head to look up at the dusty cobwebs that covered the ceiling.

Infuriatingly degrading as his current state was, Death still took some grim satisfaction from the raw anger in the voices of his jailers, and the thick smell of their fear. He could practically taste it in the stifling atmosphere of the tunnel, dripping from the stone ceiling, down the moldy walls, to the gold littering the floor. It was the perfect accompaniment to the smell of fresh blood and its iron taste in Death’s mouth.

The heady taste was a cold comfort, however, when the wolf could barely savor it: the bandits had wrapped the makeshift muzzle around his maw so tight that even his tongue was immobilized.

He had not made it easy for them, as evidenced by the humans nursing their bite wounds in the furthest corner. It would be months before they could regain the use of their limbs, and the scars would never fade. These people would carry their marks and terror for the rest of their lives, and when the time to reap their souls finally came, the wolf would take great care to remind them precisely why they should never have crossed him.

…If he got the chance, that was. As resourceful as Puss in Boots and his friends were, the odds were stacked against them.

At least the cat had escaped with the sickle, the wolf’s hearing was good enough for him to catch that much. All he could do now was wait and see what Puss in Boots’ next course of action would be. Death could only hope that the cat would prioritize the safety of his weapon.

For their part, his jailers clearly didn’t want to take any chances, and prepared accordingly. In addition to the leather bands and chains keeping the wolf’s mouth shut, they had tied up the rest of his cursed body as solidly as they could, and locked the chains together with the sturdiest padlocks at their disposal. Currently, the able-bodied bandits of the group were hammering iron stakes in the ground to secure the ends of the long chains with. From their hushed conversation, they planned to steal the sickle back, but their priority was to keep Death prisoner.

The wolf got distracted by a ripple in his cloak. The cloth was still immaterial, and none of the bandits who tried could search it or remove it. But now, a tiny intruder was crawling his way through the opaque mist of the enchanted fabric, climbing up the wolf’s golden tail and back underneath, hidden from view. Death couldn’t feel the tiny feet crawling up his cursed body, but he could still perceive the shape of the insect through his connection to the magical cloak: the cricket was shaking like a leaf as he climbed, antennae twitching every which way in anticipation of danger, wings stuck to his back to avoid detection.

Even if he did make a sound, there was little chance that anyone would notice among the ruckus of the men’s hammers, chains and testy words, but Death couldn’t fault the cricket for being vigilant.

"Lobo?"

The wolf tilted his left ear in acknowledgement. The Ethical Bug had just reached his shoulder: his teeny voice came from under Death’s hood, which gave him a partial view of the wolf’s hidden features. Death could not answer him verbally, and he wouldn’t risk looking directly in the insect’s direction in case his jailers got suspicious, but at least the insect would know that Death was listening.

"I am sorry I couldn’t stop this," the cricket murmured dejectedly. "You’re not hurt, are you?"

Death could only roll his eyes in mild exasperation.

"Sorry, I know you can’t answer…" he could feel the bug’s four legs trembling against his fur as he kneeled down on the wolf’s neck. "You don’t look hurt… It seems that they are too scared to attack you outright. Instead, they probably intend to wait until the curse has spread completely."

Loathe as Death was to admit it, that plan was likely to work. But as long as they couldn’t get their hands on the sickle, it would not change their fate.

There was a faint tinkle, and for a second Death feared that another hourglass was breaking, but the cricket’s next words reassured him:

"I found a couple of brooches in a jewel box," the Ethical Bug whispered. "They should be sharp enough to pick the padlocks they put on your chains. I will try to be as discreet as possible. It’s not much, but that will make one less obstacle when Team Friendship comes to rescue you."

The wolf could barely hold back a snort, both at the mawkish name and the Ethical Bug’s open faith in the trio of outlaws. It was a shame that Death couldn’t point out the irony of his conscience helping him with skills he had learnt from a professional thief.

"But before I do that, I need to talk to you."

Death sighed through his nose. There was no avoiding the topic this time, was there?

The bug gave an answering doleful sigh:

"I think you already know what I’m about to tell you. And you probably don’t want to hear it from me… But as your conscience - no. As your friend, I can no longer let you ignore it. Not when there is still hope!"

The cricket suddenly realized his wings had started to chirp in agitation, and interrupted his monologue with a frightened gulp. When the bandits around them just kept hammering at the stakes, the bug spoke again in a morose tone:

"I should have told you earlier… But when you said that you had found a solution to end your curse, and that you would need Puss in Boots’ help… I thought we were both thinking of the same thing. And you told me not to say anything, so all I could do was encourage you. I never imagined you were planning on sacrificing yourself instead…"

The insect sniffled. When he spoke next, his voice was firmer:

"But it’s not too late. And in light of what you told me about the true nature of your curse, I do believe there is a counter spell that could save you."

The bug took a long inspiration. Death braced himself.

"I tried to tell you about it when we first met, then on the boat, and on the wagon," the cricket said. "The Pactolus river might be the only cure created specifically for Midas’ Touch, but alternate cure-alls exist, and a precious few may be powerful enough to break your curse."

"From the beginning, I thought of a specific remedy, which has proven especially effective against metamorphosis, sleeping spells or frozen hearts, all very similar curses to Midas’ Touch," the bug went on. "This counter-spell is even more potent if the cause of the curse is connected to another person. When you first asked me if I knew of a cure for your curse, I merely thought to mention it in theory. It’s common enough to be considered a folk remedy, but at the time, I really wasn’t sure it could work for you."

"But now… I believe it would," the bug’s thin legs were still shaking from nerves, but the longer he talked, the steadier his voice got, until there was barely a stammer left:

"I told you that time was one of the most powerful magical catalysts and limiters in the world. This is another. Fairies, witches and sorcerers alike have been trying to replicate it for millennia. The Fairy Godmother came close, but even she could only recreate the most basic ingredients, and her potion needed to be drunk regularly for lasting effect. No matter what she advertised, it could never compare to the real thing. People under the effects of her potion could never break a curse as powerful as yours. Because, you see, she neglected the most important part: it doesn’t matter how strong the feeling is, whether or not it is the first, or the only one. All that matters is that it is true."

The Ethical Bug told him the name of the counter spell, and how to invoke its power. The wolf’s ears flattened against his head.

"I knew you wouldn’t want to hear about it. But please," the bug’s voice broke on his next words: "If not for you, then for his sake at least: ask yourself how you truly feel."

The insect waited, but the wolf gave no further reaction. Tiny fists clenched around a tuft of his fur, then slowly released it, and the bug resolutely crawled towards the closest padlock.

There was nothing to contemplate. Death knew exactly how he felt. He had been fighting it for the past three days.

It was a losing battle at this point.

But it didn’t change a thing. This kind of counter spell only worked if the feeling was mutual.

Kitty led Puss to a barn on the outskirts of the city. She used her sword handle to knock five times on the window in a precise rhythm. Perrito bobbed up on the other side, pulled out the lock, and opened the window for them.

"Oh cool, you found a pumpkin!" the dog exclaimed as both cats hoisted up the huge vegetable they had stolen on the way, and pushed it over the windowsill.

"That should take care of one problem, at least," Kitty said as the dog helped them lower the pumpkin and rolled it across the hay covered floor.

"Wait, what happened to Lobo and the Bug?" Perrito asked worriedly when Puss closed the window and jumped after them.

"That’s what I need to find out," Puss said. "Where’s the crystal ball?"

The little dog took them to the furthest box stalls, where their two horses were sleeping away the long race of the day. Their travel bags had been hung with the saddles. Puss made a beeline for the round shaped one, and pulled the crystal ball out with both paws:

"Show me Death!" he shook the magical item when it refused to obey. "Please!"

Pink smoke swirled from the middle of the crystal ball and spread outwards. Puss’ stomach dropped when a picture of the hidden treasure room appeared in the curls of smoke: the wolf was tied up in massive chains, tethered to the floor by iron stakes buried deep in the ground. Perrito whimpered, and nestled against Kitty’s bristling fur.

"They muzzled him?!" Puss hissed when he saw the leather straps and thin chains the wolf’s maw was trapped in.

"Looks like they didn’t come out of it unscathed," Kitty pointed at the heavily injured humans laying on the opposite side of the tunnel.

"Is the Bug okay?" Perrito asked in a small voice. Kitty put a comforting gloved paw on his head, and another on the crystal ball, next to Puss’:

"Please show us the Ethical Bug."

Wreaths of pink smoke swallowed the picture of the wolf and swirled until a close up view of his shackled golden hind legs appeared in its place. Mostly hidden from view by the chains that covered the wolf, the Ethical Bug lay flat against one leg cuff with a silver brooch in his hands. After a few careful twists, the shackle clicked open. The cricket kept the unlocked leg cuff loosely closed around the wolf’s ankle to avoid suspicion, and crawled to the next.

"A fast learner, that one," Kitty smiled proudly. "If he weren’t such a stickler for the rules, he would make a good thief."

"I’m glad they’re not injured," Perrito’s ears perked up slightly.

"We need to get them out of there," Puss’ paws clenched around the crystal. "But those bandits won’t let Lobo out of their sight."

"We’ll need to prepare carefully," Kitty nodded. "The crystal ball will come in handy for mapping this place, and we’ll know what to expect from their numbers and weapons."

"Yeah," Puss said. "But first, there’s something else I need to check."

He took a steadying breath, lowered the crystal ball to a small stack of hay on the ground, then pressed his paws flat against it:

"Please show me the Magic Mirror of Far Far Away."

The cricket disappeared in a swirl of white smoke, which solidified into the summoned smiling mask:

"Hello Puss! Nice of you to call back! And hello to you too, it’s a pleasure to meet Puss’ friends in person!"

Kitty and Perrito greeted the Mirror with a nod and a wave respectively, but Puss didn’t bother with salutations:

"Mirror, did the Queen find anything about Midas’ Touch?"

"She found plenty! Not a cure, though, or we would have contacted you right away."

"Can I talk to her?"

"She is still confined to her room, so I’m afraid not," the mask tilted in thought. "But Fiona is right next door, cooking for her children - the royal cooks are all sick and can’t really be trusted to make suitable food for ailing ogre children, as you can imagine. Anyway, she’s the one taking care of her mother most of the time, so she has all of her information. You could talk to her instead, if you want."

"Yes!"

"Very well! Please hold."

With those words, the white mask whirled and dissolved into smoke to the sound of a staticky cheery tune. The two cats pulled their ears back and gritted their teeth until the sound finally subsided, and the ogre princess appeared in the curls of smoke inside the crystal. She looked haggard, with dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and stacks of papers shoved under her elbow as she carried a steaming pot inside the empty dining room.

"Puss!" she slammed the pot on the table and ran to the mirror while holding her stack of papers to her chest. They were old letters, each stamped with an identical royal seal bearing the Kingdom of Lydia’s coat of arms. Fiona straightened up when she noticed Kitty and Perrito, long-ingrained years of etiquette lessons making her fix her posture in front of strangers by pure reflex: "Are they your friends?"

"Your Majesty," Kitty bowed to the princess, shortly followed by Perrito. "I’m Kitty Softpaws, and this is Perrito. Thank you for your help."

"I should be the one thanking you," Fiona returned the bow. "How are you? Did you reach the river?"

"No," the weight on Puss’ chest grew twice as heavy when Fiona’s hopeful expression fell. "I’m sorry… How are the kids?"

"They’re not getting any sleep," she answered in a ragged voice as she rubbed the fatigue out of her eyes. "Shrek is watching over them. We’re still looking for a cure for them, and for Death’s curse, but so far, there’s nothing…"

"The Mirror told me that the Queen found information on King Midas," Puss said tensely. "Please, tell us everything!"

"Yes, of course!" Fiona clutched the letters. "My mother found the letters that mentioned what King Midas called the ‘Golden Touch,’ and the two of us have been looking through them together. The king did write about the Pactolus river: Rumpel Stiltskin was the one who advised King Midas to bathe in the river to get rid of the Golden Touch. And it worked, the river did absorb his power! This is why the king used to trust Rumpel Stiltskin so much, and recommended him to my parents in his letters," she added somberly. "King Midas knew they were looking for an alternate counter spell for my curse, and he honestly thought Rumpel Stiltskin could help them…"

"Wait…" Puss frowned. "Wasn’t Rumpel Whatsit the guy who tricked Shrek into dooming the Kingdom with a reality-altering contract?"

"Yes. Shrek told me all about it," Fiona’s scowl deepened. "My parents almost sold the Kingdom over to Rumpel Stiltskin so he would use his magic to make their problems disappear, but Shrek rescued me before they signed the contract. After that, my parents eventually found out about the true nature of Rumpel Stiltskin’s reality-altering contracts, and the reason he helped King Midas in the first place: it was because he needed the Pactolus river’s enchanted waters as the final ingredient for his magic ink."

"So it’s the same magic…" Puss’ voice grew frantic: "And the Pactolus river really has the power to reverse Midas’ Touch, right? It can free Lobo of his curse, right?!"

"Lobo?" Fiona blinked in confusion.

"That’s Death’s name," Perrito explained. "Puss gave it to him."

"Oh! Gingy did say that Death looked like a wolf…" the princess’ eyes narrowed as she looked between the three animals. "Is he not with you?"

"He got captured," Puss said through gritted teeth as he glanced back at the sickle. "I couldn’t get him out… So he told me to keep his powers safe, in case…"

He shook his head and turned back to Fiona’s paling face:

"Jan Serpent trapped him. She’s an assassin, and she knew about Midas’ Touch because the same curse killed her sister," Puss explained hastily. "She told me… She said the Pactolus river couldn’t save her sister. That its powers only worked on objects."

The princess and Perrito let out alarmed gasps at the news. Fiona’s shocked reaction told Puss that she couldn’t give him the definitive answer he wanted, but he had to ask:

"Fiona, please. Do you know if the river ever cured a living being of Midas’ Touch? Did the queen tell you that?"

"Of course not," the Mirror’s voice chimed in before Fiona could answer. Puss’ blood froze in his veins. "The Pactolus river has never reversed Midas’ Touch for a living creature before."

"What?!" all the others exclaimed at the same time.

"You knew!" Puss bared his claws. "Why didn’t you tell us?!"

"I thought you already knew!" the Mirror answered in honest surprise. "I thought that was why you wanted to use the Fairy Godmother’s magic wand or potions instead!"

"Why would we travel all the way to this country if we knew the river wouldn’t work?!" Kitty hissed.

"Because it might work for Death," the Mirror said like it was obvious. "Judging by their actions, Jan Serpent and her accomplices are also afraid of that possibility. After all, even if the river doesn’t work on mortals, the cure has never been attempted on a deity before."

"He’s not an object!" Puss yelled.

"Hey! What’s wrong with being an object?!" the Mirror protested.

"This is useless! I am useless!" Puss threw his hat on the floor and grabbed his ears in impotent fury. "Some hero I make! What good am I if I can’t even save the one I…!"

His voice broke when his thoughts caught up with his mouth.

"I…"

He couldn’t finish the sentence, staring wide-eyed into space.

How did this happen? When? When had his respect turned to admiration? When had he started to trust the wolf and seek out his company for the sake of it? Started to hunt and fight for him, not just to help, but to impress him, to feel the heart-racing excitement when they dueled or teamed up in battle, to see that secretly pleased look in Lobo’s eyes, and all the subtle signs of happiness the wolf could never hide completely, each of them more precious than any jewel Puss had ever stolen…

"Oh, Puss…" Fiona put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with sudden understanding and tearful sympathy.

Puss had to look away. He held his chest, heart thumping madly, breath accelerating uncontrollably.

It was too late, Death as he knew him would cease to exist, the wolf would be imprisoned forever, Puss couldn’t do anything…!

Perrito was there in an instant, warm head pressed against Puss’ belly with a soft whine. The cat clung to him like a lifeline and pressed his forehead against the dog’s. He forced himself to take deep, halting breaths as he stroked Perrito’s short shaggy fur.

Gradually, everything came back into focus. He could feel Kitty’s gloved paw drawing soothing circles on the nape of his neck. The sickle’s weight was crushing against his back.

"Don’t give up, Puss."

Puss raised his head slowly to meet Fiona’s feverish green eyes. In spite of the fear in them, they shone with determination:

"I think… No. I know you can save him."

"No, you don’t," Puss’ voice cracked. "Even if I take him to the river in time…!"

"There might be another way!" Fiona spoke over him. "I just realized it!"

"Really?!" Puss stood up straight and slammed his paw back on the crystal next to Kitty’s, still clutching Perrito with his other arm. "What is it? What can I do?!"

"The same thing that saved me from my curse," Fiona said earnestly. "It also saved Shrek from disappearing after he signed Rumpel Stiltskin’s contract. And since the Golden Touch was an ingredient for the magic ink, it might have the same weakness!"

Puss’ mouth went dry.

What had saved Fiona from her curse…

"You don’t mean…?"

"True Love’s Kiss."

Puss staggered back, head spinning.

"That… That’s not… We are talking about Death here, Fiona!" Puss said in a breathless voice. "The embodiment of Death! He doesn’t feel love, let alone true love!"

"That’s what I was taught to believe about ogres and dragons, too," Fiona said with a wry smile. "Look where I am now. Look where Donkey is now."

He was not hearing this, it couldn’t possibly work, Death couldn’t…

Could he?

Puss had been prejudiced against ogres in his early lives. Puss in Boots fought for the people, and the people saw ogres as monsters. That was why he never saw anything wrong with hunting them down, tricking and slaughtering them. Until he was hired to assassinate Shrek, and in spite of Puss’ failed attempt on his life, the ogre spared his.

To this day, it was Puss’ greatest shame, something he could never atone for. How many more innocent ogres would Puss have massacred, if he had never realized the errors of his ways?

Of course ogres could love. More strongly than anyone Puss had ever met.

And Death…

Puss had seen him comfort a little girl in her last moments. Seen the gentle way he treated Perrito when they bathed together. The wolf’s grudging but genuine care for the Ethical Bug when he protected him from the cold. The underlying playfulness of his banter with Kitty.

And the way he smiled at Puss sometimes…

"I read the notes the Fairy Godmother wrote about love, and how to replicate it with a potion," Fiona said bitterly. "It was horrible. She had no idea what she was talking about. It was just another way for her to manipulate people by playing with their emotions."

"True love doesn’t happen by magic," she went on in a steadier voice. "It’s a bond you build with another person. It doesn’t matter if you are meant to be or not. When my alternate self first tried to kiss Shrek to break his contract and bring the world back to normal, it didn’t work - because she hadn’t fallen in love with him yet. Their second kiss worked because they had finally rebuilt the bond we share."

A bond…

Death had accepted Puss’ oath to lift his curse. Had relied on him in battle. Taken the name Puss had given him as his own. Entrusted him with the task to keep his weapon and powers safe. In spite of all his pride and resentment for the way Puss had wasted his own lives, Death had still…

"What I’m saying, Puss," Fiona said gently. "Is that I can tell you really care about this wolf. And he really trusts you," she added with a meaningful glance towards the sickle at his back. "I think you can both rely on those feelings."

"I know it’s scary," she added softly. "But you’ve become so brave, Puss. More than you ever were. And I believe in you."

She was… She couldn’t be serious… But…

"I’m sorry," she said sadly. "I wish I could help you more. But… Please think on it?"

But Fiona would never joke about this. Not after everything she had been through.

"…I will," Puss forced out. "Gracias, Fiona."

"You know, I hadn’t even thought about it, but Fiona is right, this might actually work," the Mirror gave a thoughtful hum. "Midas’ Touch usually spreads too fast for this kind of counter spell, so it has never been attempted on a conscious victim before. But since Death has been slowing down the curse’s progress, this could be your chance to try!"

Puss gulped. Could it work…?

"There’s still time," Kitty said with a comforting pat on his shoulder. "First, we get Lobo back. Then we take him to the river. If it doesn’t work, well…" she gave him an encouraging smile. "The two of you have my blessing."

"You have my blessing too, Puss!" Perrito grinned up at him. "Lobo is a member of the team, of course we’ll help you! And the Bug, too!"

"…Yeah," Puss smiled. "Thanks, amigos."

He took one last calming breath, picked up his hat, and got to his feet:

"Alright, team," he cracked his neck, and put on his hat. "Ready for our next heist?"

"I thought you’d never ask," Kitty smirked. "Let’s steal some gold."

Death forced his ears to stay down under his hood by sheer force of will when he felt his sickle’s dormant powers draw closer. He sniffed, and a distant scent reached his nostrils.

Puss in Boots.

The wolf had spent such a long time tracking that scent that it was instantly recognizable. The distraction made his blood freeze when he forgot to regulate its circulation in the veins of his head and throat - his heart and lung had both been lost to the gold. Death chased the numbness away with a steady flow of magic, and kept smelling the air as quietly as possible to try and locate the cat without arousing the bandits’ suspicion.

His efforts turned out to be pointless: a series of pained and outraged screams resounded from the side room at the end of the tunnel, and all the able-bodied bandits guarding Death immediately pointed their weapons in that direction.

Puss in Boots burst into the scene with a maniacal cackle, twirling the sparkling magic wand in one paw while he fenced off his pursuers with the other - at least those of his pursuers who weren't tripping on the long glittery evening dresses and high heels their clothes had been turned into.

The second of stupefied gawking was enough for Puss to point the wand at the nearest bandits standing between him and Death. Those who didn’t duck in time got caged in frilly crinoline dresses.

"Aha! Get ready to dance, damas y caballeros!" the cat clamored as he jumped from treasure chests to gold statues and sceptres to evade his adversaries’ clumsy attacks. "And pray for mercy from Puss in Boots!"

Death growled at the extravagant display. What was this infuriating cat thinking? He couldn’t be stupid enough to barge in and provoke their enemies like this without a plan. The sickle was still tied to his back, both a heavy burden and a clear target. And skillful as he was, Puss in Boots was outnumbered: Death could hear a stampede of boots as the bandits left their post on the floor above, and used ropes to jump down the goods’ lift and join the fight.

"What is he doing?" the Ethical Bug whispered anxiously from his perch atop the wolf’s head. He had managed to pick all of the padlocks save for the one trapping Death’s muzzle, as that would have immediately drawn the bandits’ attention. Instead, he had resolved to hide in Death’s hood and bide his time until reinforcements arrived. But now that Puss in Boots had made his entrance, the bug was at a loss. "Where are the others?"

The wolf narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air. Now that the bandits had deserted the upper floor, the wolf could smell another cat, and sulfur… Puss in Boots and his wild antics were likely a diversion, but…

Death’s thoughts ground to a horrified halt when Puss got overwhelmed by sheer numbers: he narrowly avoided a shimmering, visibly enchanted net, but the sickle got caught in it. The magical mesh repelled the cat’s blade in a shower of sparks when he tried to cut it. The limping tattooed woman holding the net grinned as she pulled the entangled sickle towards herself, and her comrades’ knives all came for the cat when he was dragged along.

Puss in Boots let the sickle slide off his belt to get away.

Death wanted to howl, but the muzzle trapped the sound. He tried to buck against his restraints, but all he could do was shake the chains off his head as the loose padlocks were sent flying; the rest of his cursed body refused to move.

"Whoa, take it easy!"

The wolf snarled at Puss in Boots as the cat took advantage of his restored agility to break the bandits’ lines of defense with a few parries and well-aimed stabs, then joined Death’s side in a slide across scattered gold coins. Puss’ fur bristled at his glare, but the cat leapt on his shoulder regardless:

"Hold this, Bug!" Puss held out the wand to the hidden cricket, and pointed his blade at the fast approaching bandits. "Use the levitation spell!"

"Y-Yes!"

In his peripheral vision, Death saw the bug catch the wand’s handle with both hands as the cat fenced off their adversaries. A rain of warm sparks fell from the wand’s star-shaped tip towards his golden body, and his hind paws left the ground. Puss slashed the hands of the bandits who tried to hang on to the chains around Death’s frozen arms, then used his claws to pick the remaining padlock and cut off the leather bands muzzling the wolf.

"I told you to keep the sickle safe!" Death roared as soon as he could move his mouth.

"You mean this sickle?"

Startled by the new voice, the wolf looked down, and found Kitty Softpaws grinning up at him, hanging by a hand to the chains around his golden leg, with Death’s sickle dangling from her other gloveless paw. Behind her, the tattooed woman was looking from the black cat to the golden scepter in her own hands, face slack from stunned shock at the swift switcheroo.

"Did you forget?" Puss mirrored Kitty’s grin as he helped her up onto the wolf’s shoulder with one paw while fending off her pursuers with the other. "We have the best thief on our team."

"Ha! Got you to admit it," Kitty kicked off a man who tried to grab the wolf’s rising legs, slid the enchanted net off the sickle, tied it to her belt, and unsheathed her own sword as she inched closer to Death’s head: "Open up, Lobo."

The wolf huffed at her in irritation, but did take the sickle’s handle in his mouth as soon as it came within reach, and used the flat of the blade to throw the two remaining bandits off his front and send them tumbling to the ground.

"I should have known," Death said around the handle, not sure himself if he was being chastising or congratulatory. "You never do things halfway."

"That’s right," Puss said as he and Kitty swung their swords at the knives that were thrown at them. "Like I told you: I will never stop fighting for this life. And you," he threw the wolf a pointed side-glance. "You’re a part of my life. And I want you to stay a part of it."

Death forgot to breathe again. Even when he forced his air and blood to flow once more, he still felt lightheaded watching the cat cut the hanging ropes from the goods’ lift before the bandits could use them to climb back up.

An explosion shook the upper floor right before the levitating wolf reached its level.

"Oh yeah, thanks for the explosives!" Kitty yelled at the humans down below, who had just been knocked off their feet by the shake.

"Since when does Puss in Boots have teammates?!" the woman who had almost snatched the sickle shouted in English.

"Since we became Team Friendship!"

The cheerful answer came from the destroyed wall, where Perrito emerged from the smoke and debris on horseback, leading a second horse inside by the reins, with a huge pumpkin tied to the front of his saddle.

"Team what?"

"We did not agree to that name," Puss and Kitty grumbled at the same time. The unrepentant chihuahua brought the two horses to them, and held out the pumpkin.

The Ethical Bug wasted no time casting the preset metamorphosis spell, and the magic engulfed all five animals as the vegetable was cut open and its fleshy insides grew around them as curved wooden planks. It sprouted iron vines that curled into four high wheels.

"By the way," Puss shouted over the grinding noise of the growing carriage. "You must have misheard, Señorita: Puss in Boots doesn’t laugh at Death. Puss in Boots laughs with Death!"

Then the cat threw back his head and bellowed an uproarious laughter above his baffled human audience. The pumpkin shaped carriage closed around the animals, cutting them from view. Puss’ laughter echoed inside the coach until he glanced at Death, and it dissolved into nervous snickers as the Ethical Bug lowered the wolf to the carriage floor with careful waves of the glowing magical wand.

Puss cleared his throat with a self-conscious smile:

"Too much?"

Death snorted:

"I’ll let it slide," he said out of the corner of his mouth, teeth still clenched around his sickle.

He didn’t want to encourage him too much, but the open joy on Puss’ face at his response made it difficult to regret his words. Especially with Perrito bouncing and yapping around them and the cricket happily chirping on top of his head.

"They’ve got grappling hooks," Kitty said while peering out of the carriage window. "Time to go!"

Perrito barked in agreement and leaped to the front of the carriage, where more vines were sprouting. They turned into harnesses and tied themselves to the two horses. The dog grabbed the reins, and off they went, high wheels bumping on the stone debris from the destroyed wall. The cats and cricket hung on to Death’s cursed body as the magical carriage lurched forward so the jolts wouldn’t throw them off.

The bumps lessened when the carriage hit the village roads. The cats took advantage of the brief respite to push the loose chains off Death’s body.

"Thank you for saving us!" the Ethical Bug blubbered atop his head. "I knew you would come!"

"Thank us when we get to the river," Kitty threw him a small smile as she slid her gloves back on. "We still need to get past the guards at the western gate."

The bug nodded with an affirmative hum and a loud sniffle. He dried most of his tears, and flew to check the back window:

"The bandits are not pursuing us!" he reported.

"I freed their horses before I lit the explosives," Kitty smirked, kicked the last chain off the wolf’s shoulder, and jumped off to join Perrito.

"This was quite the daring rescue," the cricket said between hiccups, bulging eyes gleaming but skin pale from stress. "Is it always like this for your group…?"

"Pretty much," Puss chuckled. "But hey, how else would we get the thrill of adventure?"

"I could have done without the part where you almost lost my weapon," Death grunted. "Take it out of my mouth, will you?"

The cat threw him an uncertain look:

"…You still trust me with it?"

"Don’t make me regret it," the wolf scowled at him.

Puss fidgeted on his shoulder, looking flustered. He gave a jerky nod, sheathed his sword, and took the sickle with barely a shudder of disgust for the saliva on the handle. He jumped off with the weapon held in both paws, wiped it clean on the bright orange carriage cushions, slid it back in his belt, and threw his cape over it. When he turned back to the wolf, his eyes were immediately drawn to the gold crawling up his neck.

"The gold," Puss murmured, eyes wide with dread. "Isn’t it spreading faster?"

"The curse is getting harder to contain," Death admitted. "I lost too much magic."

"How long do you have?"

"An hour, maybe less," the wolf answered through clenched teeth.

The other animals flinched. Puss took a staggering step towards him:

"Lobo, we… The Magic Mirror just told us that the Pactolus river never cured a living person, only objects."

The Ethical Bug let out a horrified shriek:

"Are you certain?!"

"I thought that might be the case," Death grunted.

"You did?!" Puss and the bug exclaimed at the same time.

"We have to try anyway," the wolf said. "I am no living being, and my curse is contained by the golden hourglass. The river might reverse Midas’ Touch if we cleanse the hourglass with its waters."

"Will that really work?" Puss asked warily.

"It’s our best chance," Death answered.

"…Yeah," the cat gulped with difficulty, suddenly unable to look the wolf in the eyes. But at least his expression was resolute when he turned towards the front of the carriage:

"Kitty! Can we make it to the river in less than an hour?"

"Yeah, the crystal ball showed me a shortcut," Kitty said over her shoulder as they raced through a long straight road. "The gate is at the next turn! Guard our rear, Puss: they have fire arrows, and they’ll probably start shooting as soon as we leave the village. I’ll watch out for highway robbers. Bug, come here, the levitation spell will come in handy."

"Understood!" the cricket flew to her and clung to the straps of her cape, magic wand pointed over her shoulder.

"Alright," with a last backwards glance at Death, Puss climbed out of the back window, hung on to the side of the carriage, and drew his sword.

Perrito urged the two horses into a wild gallop through the torches lit roads, and made a V-turn to reach the gate. The startled guards had no time to react as the horses barreled through their defenses and kicked the doors open. Kitty took over the reins and used her night vision to guide the horses off the main road, straight across the snowy fields.

Flamed arrows flew after them, but the zigzagging carriage was a difficult target to reach even in the clear night, and Puss’ swift blade took care of the ones that flew true. Death spotted a fast-approaching ravine over the horses’s heads.

"The river is just down there!" Kitty yelled over the clatter of hooves as she pulled on the reins to slow the horses down. "If we use the levitation spell…"

There was a sudden bump, and the earth exploded in a geyser of snow.

The animals screamed as their right wheels and side door were blown off the carriage. The coach was thrown onto its side with its remaining wheels in the air. Death’s golden body slid down the tilted floor towards the destroyed entrance. The horses fled in a panic and dragged the broken tilted carriage along the ravine.

The wolf fell.

"Lobo!"

Death caught a glimpse of Puss in Boots’ silhouette against the full moon when the cat jumped after him with a broken curved plank in his paw. Then the wolf’s vision was swallowed by a black and white storm as his golden body slid down the slope in an avalanche of rocks and snow.

A huge rock shattered under his weight when he landed at the bottom of the ravine, and his vision was engulfed in a cloud of snow and debris. With the gold trapping his entire neck, the wolf couldn’t even shake his head to get rid of it. Even through the icy blanket, his ears picked up the distant sounds of clattering wheels, distressed neighs, shouts, and a sliding noise rushing in his direction.

Death peered through the holes in the snow covering his head, and saw Puss in Boots use his wooden plank as a sled, slaloming between sharp rocks as he slid down the slope. The cat ground to a halt next to the wolf and dug him out hurriedly:

"You okay?" Puss asked when the wolf’s head was fully emerged. His eyes shone a striking green in the dark.

"I’ve been better," Death flicked his ears to get rid of the leftover snow, then raised his gaze skyward: "Can you see the others?"

The cat raised his head to squint at the horizon:

"They got pretty far, but they stopped the carriage. I can see the wand glow above the horses from here, must be the Bug flying… Yeah, he just landed on Perrito’s head, Kitty is riding a horse with him," he said with a heavy sigh of relief. "What was that?"

"A landmine," Death answered somberly. "Looks like those bandits took extra precautions to block the road to the river."

"The river!" Puss exclaimed, and turned round.

They could both see its running waters glimmering in the moonlight, just a few feet away. On a pointless impulse, Puss tried to push the wolf in its direction, but his golden body wouldn’t budge. With a frustrated hiss, the cat pulled Death’s sickle out of his belt to rid himself of the extra weight, left it at the wolf’s feet, then ran for the river. When he reached its bank, he held his rapier underwater, filled its cup hilt to the brim, then ran back to the wolf with his prize.

Puss climbed the high rocks to reach Death’s head, and tilted the cup hilt rapier to let the water trickle down the wolf’s neck. It ran in rivulets from his fur to the spreading gold, and disappeared under his cloak. The gold kept crawling up the back of the wolf’s head, unobstructed. Death swore under his breath.

"No…" the half empty cup hilt shook in Puss’ paw. "No no no, come on!" In desperation, he spilled more water on Death’s shoulder, arm and wrist. As soon as it touched the wolf’s wrist guards, the gold melted into leather. Puss only grew more frantic at the sight:

"It does work on objects! The hourglass!" he turned a wild-eyed gaze towards Death. "Give me the golden hourglass, quick!"

"Search my cloak," Death instructed, and returned the cloth to its material shape. "It should come to you on its own. Just feel around, and take the heaviest of the nine hourglasses."

The cat had already pulled down his hood and plunged his entire arm under the cloak, toe pads reaching for the enchanted objects. Death felt a tingle spread through the link he shared with the magical cloak as the nine hourglasses slid out of the darkness, drawn to the soul they belonged to. Puss started when they found his paw, but he was quick to recover, and felt for the heaviest.

He let out a distressed meow when he pulled the golden hourglass into the moonlight: most of the sand was in the lower bulb, and the thin line that remained was sinking rapidly.

Puss jumped down, rushed back to the river with the hourglass clutched in his paw, and immersed it. He looked between the submerged magical object and the wolf, waiting for a change with batted breath. The cat did a double take when he glanced back at the hourglass. He pulled it out of the water.

The hourglass had turned from bright gold to a dull gray. But inside, the golden sand continued its descent, unreachable by the enchanted water.

"What the hell!" Puss grabbed the top of the hourglass, but Death stopped him:

"Don’t open it. If you do, the sand will escape, and the curse will spread even faster."

"Then what do I do?!" Puss tried to turn the hourglass, but the sand kept falling up, unaffected by gravity. The cat bared his claws as he shook it furiously: "Stop! Stop falling!"

"Easy, Puss," Death sighed as the gold crawled up his chin. "Just because it’s yours doesn’t mean you should handle it carelessly."

The cat whirled around:

"What do you mean, it’s mine…?"

"Your first hourglass," Death answered. When everything began. "Cats have nine of them, remember? I don’t have a hourglass of my own, so I used yours to slow down the curse and preserve my time."

Puss looked at him with wide disbelieving eyes, clawed paw clenching around the hourglass:

"You mean… All this time…?"

The cat trailed off when he saw the gold slither around the base of the wolf’s ears and crawl down his forehead.

"Thank you for taking me this far," Death gave him a bitter smile. "But I think we’ve reached the end, this time."

"No!" Puss dropped his hourglass and sword in the snow and leapt back on the rock. He grabbed the wolf’s muzzle with both paws and hissed at the spreading gold like he could repel it with the ferocity of his glare. "I won’t let it end like this! I promised!"

"You did more than enough. More than anyone would."

"I am not done!" Puss shouted. "I will save you no matter what! And I won’t do it out of duty, but because it’s what I want! Because I…!"

The gold blocked the wolf’s ears. Puss’ words were cut off.

"Sorry," Death couldn’t imagine how his own voice must sound in this moment. "I can’t hear you anymore."

Puss’ whole face scrunched up in distress as he clung to the wolf’s jaw with one clawed paw and gestured wildly at his own mouth with the other, talking fast. Death could guess what he was saying:

‘You can read my lips, can’t you?!’

Of course he could. It was only two words.

Still…he wished he could have heard what Puss in Boots’ voice had sounded like, when he said them. Death could scarcely believe them as it was.

His resolve strengthened when the gold reached his brows. Whether the cat meant those words or not, it didn’t matter. If the wolf was going to lose his eyesight forever, he wanted to see Puss’ expression when Death said them back:

"I love you."

Puss froze. Only his tears kept rolling down his cheeks in thin transparent trails. A few drops hung on his whiskers like morning dew. His wide green eyes glimmered from them like a forest canopy set alight by the sun after the rain.

"I love the person you have become," Death whispered. "And I almost killed you before you got a chance to become that person. This is why I got cursed. This is how I knew that only your first hourglass could slow the curse."

Now that the dam was down, he could no longer stop the words from flowing out:

"I should have warned you about your disregard for your deaths a long time ago. The very first time you died. Instead, I lay in wait, while you kept wasting your lives, pretending I wasn’t there. I refused to confront you while you still had more of them to taunt me with. So I treated you like prey, and waited for my chance to hunt down your last life."

"I was unfair to you," he murmured. "I am sorry, Puss in Boots."

Were those to be his last words?

It might be fitting. Death had no grave to take this secret to. And he owed Puss in Boots the truth:

"But I don’t regret meeting you, or getting the chance to see you change," he smiled, eyelids heavy from the spreading gold. "I don’t regret falling in love with you."

The gold closed his eyes.

Silence and darkness. Death’s natural form. It was almost comforting in its familiarity.

But he could still smell the bittersweet scent of Puss in Boots’ fear and sorrow, still feel soft padded paws on his muzzle, claws prickling his skin as the cat refused to let go.

Soon, Death would lose this, too.

He committed it to memory, the way these paws clung to him, claws retracting as they guided his muzzle down. Soft, damp fur pushed against it, right under his nose. Quivering whiskers tickled him as thin lips pressed against his.

The gold froze the pull of the wolf’s smile as he kissed Puss in Boots back.

Instead of claiming the wolf’s lips, the curse thawed around his mouth like so much snow. Slowly, the weight of it drew back. The gold was melting right off his fur.

When his eyes were released, Death opened them wide to Puss in Boots’ tear stained face, eyes screwed shut as he kept kissing the wolf with enough desperation to breathe life into his mouth. The sight added to the passionate press of those lips wiped out all coherent thought from Death’s brain. He groaned into the kiss and strained against the gold still trapping most of his body in a desperate attempt to get closer.

Puss’ eyes started open at the noise. He drew back with a silent gasp, watery eyes widening in dazed wonder. The claws on either side of the wolf’s snout prickled him again as the cat tightened his grip, like he was worried Death might slip right through them. When the gold finally withdrew from his ears, he could hear Puss panting heavily around a clogged throat.

"It worked…" the cat murmured in a hoarse voice. Fresh tears appeared when his eyes crinkled from a trembling, fast growing incredulous smile. "It worked…! Yes!"

Puss jumped on him and wrapped his entire body around the wolf’s head in a tight embrace, forehead to forehead, limbs and tail curled around his long muzzle. The cat was shaking all over with relieved sobs and hysterical laughter, purring with abandon. The wolf’s ears swiveled wildly to better catch the sounds, which only made Puss laugh harder when he looked at Death through his tears.

Behind him, the golden sand inside the hourglass had succumbed to gravity’s pull. Puss followed Death’s gaze to the glittering trickle inside the small object. Instead of gathering at the bottom, the golden grains of sand evaporated on their way down like snowflakes falling into a fire. Puss’ expression became solemn at the sight.

"…I’m sorry too, Lobo," he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead harder against the wolf’s. "I shouldn’t have wasted my lives. Or mocked you. I was blind, and stupid. I became so obsessed with my legend, I lost sight of everything I valued. I hurt innocents, abandoned the ones I loved most… There are so many things I can never atone for… I’m not saying you were right to hunt me down, but… I know I never would have realized all this if it weren’t for you. Not only that…"

The cat took a shaky breath:

"I wasn’t thinking straight, when you came to me in Del Mar, but… I know my limits. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, and I had drunk that last glass of heavy cream… I wouldn’t be here now."

There was a heavy silence that neither of them dared to break. There was only the gurgle of the river, the wind in the trees, and their heavy breathing. The gold freed Death’s throat, but somehow, it felt just as tight as before.

"What I’m trying to say is," Puss whispered at last. "No matter how messed up things got… I’m glad I met you, too."

He raised himself slowly:

"And since you didn’t hear me the first time…"

In a distractingly impressive demonstration of flexibility, Puss curved his back so he could straddle the wolf’s maw with his booted knees, crossed his arms on top of the wolf’s muzzle, and leaned his head on them until his hooded eyes were level with Death’s:

"Yo también te amo, Lobo."

Death’s heart leapt out of its golden cage. It hammered in his chest like it was trying to chase the curse away faster, or to burst out of his ribs. His freed lungs pumped erratically as the wolf panted under the cat’s magnetic stare and heady scent, and he still couldn’t move…!

"What’s the matter?" Puss in Boots grinned, then slowly stretched as he dragged his rough tongue up the wolf’s muzzle and forehead in a languorous lick, all the way to the base of his ear. His deep raspy voice dropped several octaves as he scratched Death’s ear and whispered right against it: "¿Te ha comido la lengua el gato?"

That smug little…!

"Do you want me to eat you?" Death growled in a strained voice and shook his released shoulders, but the gold was still trapping his elbows, why was this taking so long…!

"Depends," the cat slid back into his field of vision, waggled his brows, and drummed his deceptively soft toe pads up and down the wolf’s long snout. "Do you mean it metaphorically? Because if that’s the case, I could be convinced…"

Damn it, how did mortals live like this? The wolf was feeling so much at once that he couldn’t process the emotions constricting his chest and boiling his entrails. It was maddening, exquisite torture. He wanted more.

Finally, his front paws were released.

Ignoring the weight of the lingering gold on his claws and the back of his hand, the wolf raised his stiff arm, brought a thumb to the cat’s face, and stroked his warm downy cheek. It was still damp from his earlier tears. Death’s toe pad traced a black line of running mascara across ginger fur.

"You sure act confident for someone who was bawling his eyes out a minute ago," he taunted with a wolfish grin, in a low growly voice. "Never thought I’d see the day when Puss in Boots would weep for Death."

Death expected a rebuttal, more teasing, or at least a vexed pout. Instead, the cat’s eyes closed to blissed-out slits as he leaned into his touch, then pressed his entire face into the wolf’s palm:

"It’s good to have you back, Lobo," he murmured against his skin.

Just like that, Death’s turmoil of chaotic emotions got engulfed into an overwhelming surge of aching tenderness. Slowly, the wolf let go of the engraved sickle to slide his other paw under Puss’ cape and wrap it around the cat’s back, just to feel him there; soft, pliant, warm and alive.

He didn’t ever want to let go.

But as the gold retreated, he could feel the pull of the souls that called for him, imperative and inescapable.

"You know I can’t stay with you," he whispered.

"I know," Puss rubbed his cheek against his padded palm. "I’ll miss you."

Death kept petting him, still amazed that he could, and the cat kept purring as he looked at the vanishing gold at the tips of the wolf’s front claws, then into his eyes:

"Still. You know where to find me," Puss gave him a tentative smile. "You did tell me you could come and go as you pleased. Perrito and the Bug will always be happy to see you, and I’m pretty sure even Kitty would."

"It’s not that simple," Death’s ears pulled back. "I am free to wander the mortal realm, but I can’t linger for too long where I am not needed. And above all, I can’t neglect my duties or abuse my powers. I can’t let the dead pay for my mistakes again."

"Yeah…" Puss lowered his head with a sorrowful frown, and Death knew they were both thinking about the lost souls at the port town. "So you never stick around? No exceptions?"

"The only exceptions are near death experiences," Death answered. "Whenever people have a brush in with me, but get away with their lives. Some notice, others don’t, but I never stray far until the danger to their life is gone."

"You stay after near death experiences…" Puss’ frown deepened. He looked up with a sudden glint in his eyes: "In other words, you get more free time when people escape you."

It was Death’s turn to scowl: "What are you saying?"

"What if I gave you less work to do?" the cat tilted his head with a growing grin. "You know, I may not look it, but I have a bit of a reputation as a legendary hero. So how about this? For every life I save, I get a date with you."

Death could only stare back at him with round eyes as his thoughts screeched to a halt.

Emboldened by his reaction, Puss rubbed himself against the wolf’s paws, then leaned fully against his muzzle like a purring muffler:

"Or maybe a few group outings, if the rest of the team helps? Can’t keep you all to myself. Then again, if you are that dedicated to your work, dates on the job could be nice too," this close, his husky voice made the wolf’s entire maw vibrate until his tongue tingled from it. "There are still plenty of rats and birds out there for me to catch, after all. If you’re up for dinner?" Puss asked with a coy smile. "You like wine, right?"

The main reason Death liked the beverage was its similarity to blood, and the only reason he had drunk it in front of the cat was to spite him, back in Del Mar. Trust Puss in Boots to throw even his most petty taunts back at the wolf and turn them on their head, outright suggesting to wine and dine Death himself.

It was horribly tempting.

"…I won’t be able to stay for long," Death answered in a mortifyingly strangled voice.

"That’s okay," the cat gave a full-body purr that made the wolf shiver to the tips of his claws. "I can be quick."

"Be serious."

"I am." The flirtatious smile remained, but the cat’s luminous eyes were clear and unwavering as they stared into his own. "I know how much your role means to you. I won’t hold you back. But if you’re able to take some time for yourself, you might as well make the most of it. It’s not like you got cursed right away for chasing me. Even Death can have some respite. Right?"

Even with his lungs fully healed, Death found that he still had trouble breathing.

Of course only Puss in Boots would make such outrageous claims. That he would keep defying Death by rescuing as many lives as he could, like he always had; only this time, instead of mocking him, the cat wanted to share those victories with him. Bold enough to think that, instead of gambling with his last life like he had done for all the others, Puss in Boots could buy time for Death, time with Death, by saving people.

"I meant what I said," Puss went on. "No matter what you decide, you’re a part of my life. You will be there at the end, but you can be part of the journey, too. If you want."

The cat’s eyes only left his when a soft swish caught his attention: the gold had just melted off the wolf’s tail, and the traitorous appendage was wagging away. Puss beamed at the sight, purring louder than ever.

Death hesitated.

"When I leave," he said haltingly. "I’m not sure what it will do to me. I have stayed in this body for so long, I was starting to forget what it feels like to be Death and nothing else. It might erase everything."

Puss’ expression fell. He opened his mouth to say something, but bit his lip, eyes furrowed in visible conflict.

"…Would you prefer it that way?" the cat asked cautiously.

Death’s snout shook with a sour laugh. It would be so much easier if he did.

"I mean," Puss darted a glance at the hourglass laying next to their weapons in the snow. "I’m not immortal."

The wolf laughed again, and this one tasted even sourer than the last. He had waited so long for Puss to finally face this truth. Death had never imagined that these words would be so painful to hear.

Yes… Puss in Boots was mortal.

He was like a fire sprite. He could be fierce, and prickly, but exuded warmth and magnetic charm, as dazzling and cheerful as he was mischievous, always dancing just shy of reach, igniting hearts with fiery love or blazing fury. Unbelievably chaotic and destructive, with a bleeding heart underneath, burning with an insatiable passion and an unshakable resolve to help those in need.

He was full of life. Ephemeral. And all the more precious for it.

"No," Death held the cat tight against his muzzle. "I don’t want to forget."

The cat shivered under his touch. He tried to answer, but his voice was too choked up. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the wolf’s chin in a tight embrace.

They both looked down at the gold melting around the wolf’s knees. But Puss’ gaze drifted further. A spark lit them up.

Puss slipped out of the wolf’s grasp and slid off his head like he was made of liquid. He landed soundlessly next to the engraved sickle laying at Death’s feet. The cat’s tail whipped as he neared the weapon.

"In that case," he tapped a claw on the sickle’s blade, right under the eighth crossed out cat life, and looked up at Death with a twinkle in his eye. "Do you still want my autograph?"

The wolf gaped at him. Puss tilted his head encouragingly, fuzzy muzzle pulled up in a knowing smile.

Death pressed his lips together, kneeled down to be level with him, and nodded.

Puss preened. He bent down to retrieve his sword, and with three well-practiced slashes, he drew a ‘P’ on the blade.

"There," he sheathed his rapier, then brought his paw under the wolf’s chin for a half teasing, half sensual scratch. "Now you will never forget me."

Death’s throat shook with helpless laughter. He gave the cat’s face a vengeful lick for his impertinence, which did earn him a pouty scowl, but Puss’ eyes still shone with mirth. He didn’t even give a taken protest when the wolf bent to nip at the back of his head, right under the long brim of his hat. Death drew back with a soft chuckle.

"Honestly," he shook his head at Puss as the cat tried to rub his sticky fur clean with the back of his paw. "I don’t think I could if I wanted to."

Maybe Puss in Boots picked on the slight uncertainty in his voice. When the cat looked back at him, his face softened with a reassuring smile.

"Even if you did," Puss hefted the two sickles in his arms, and held them out to the wolf. "You know we will meet again. Right?"

Death smiled back as he took the sickles from Puss’ outstretched paws. He rubbed a thumb against the single engraved letter, then put both blades in their sheaths. The last stains of gold melted off his hind claws.

"We will," the wolf collected the empty hourglass, and leaned in for a parting kiss. "This, I can promise you."

Epilogue

Over the years, the legend of Puss in Boots got contradictory.

Some people said that Puss in Boots walked alone; others, that he was never seen without the peerless cat burglar Kitty Softpaws. There was also mention of a dog in a sweater. No two sources agreed whether he accompanied the cats to impart great wisdom, for his extraordinary resilience, or just because the dog was very fond of them and impossible to shake off, even for master cat thieves.

Everyone knew that Puss in Boots had never been touched by a blade; yet some people swore that, on the rare occasions when the cat took off his hat, you could see a single scar on his brow. There was a rumor that Death himself put it there.

In fact, there were a lot of strange rumors about Puss in Boots and Death; the different versions were difficult to keep track of. Had Puss in Boots really faced Death in a duel and survived? Was it two duels, or more? Did Puss in Boots laugh at Death, or with Death?

Some said the two of them were archenemies. Others claimed to have seen them fight together, and that they made an unstoppable team.

People even overheard someone tearfully say that Puss in Boots and Death were lovers, and that the two of them were never apart for long.

But no one really listens to crickets.